Chapter Nine #2
He has me there. Every time I’m around Melanie, everything I think I’ve decided turns sideways.
It’s no wonder she shied away from me last night.
I’ve been taking steps forward and backward, as if I’m dancing my own private waltz on the head of a pin.
Who could follow it when even I’m not sure I know the steps?
“Exactly,” Liam says, correctly interpreting my silence. “You’re a fresh disaster these days, Nat.”
“Well, the scrutiny isn’t helping,” I snap. I take a breath, immediately regretting my tone. “Sorry. It’s just…been hard.”
“Sorry,” Liam says, wincing. “That came out harsher than I meant it to. I just want you to be happy. And to be fair to yourself.”
I stare out at the horizon. The water stretches on seemingly forever.
The thought of floating here, in something so vast, is oddly comforting.
It hits the same spot of my heart that loves thinking about how far back humanity—with all our quirks—stretches into history.
I’m a little part of that like I’m a little part of floating in this endless water.
Struggling with romance, making sense of love—I know from the stories I’ve studied that I’m hardly the first to deal with this.
It doesn’t make it easier. But it does help a little. If even the gods messed it up, how can I expect my fifteen-year-old self to get it right at every turn?
“I want the same thing for you,” I say, eyeing Liam. “So, where are your romantic prospects?”
Liam snorts. “I have none.”
“So…”
“Not having any is different from running away from real feelings you actually have because you’re projecting your made-up fears onto real situations.”
Ouch.
“That actually sounds super similar,” I tease, and he splashes me again.
We’re interrupted by Melanie herself, who floats over to us with eager eyes.
“Natalie,” she says, and my name sounds thrilling on her lips, “I just had the greatest idea. Aren’t you doing your project on Artemis?”
“Yeah,” I say, though doing is perhaps an exaggeration.
“Delos isn’t far from here,” she says. After a beat, she bobs her head. “Well. It’s sort of far, but we could totally do a day trip there. I’d be so down to come with you, and I’m sure Ms. Barlowe would say yes to an excursion if I was acting as a guide.”
Delos is the mythic birthplace of Artemis and her twin brother, Apollo. Going there might be just the thing to jump-start my project. It needs the help—badly.
Of course, it’s yet another thing that Liam and I said we would do together. But when I glance at him, he’s nodding.
“That’s such a good idea. Nat, you should go ask Ms. Barlowe right now.”
I grit my teeth. He just wants me to go with Melanie because he’s hoping I’ll succumb to my feelings. No such luck for him. I’m going for my project and my project only.
Still, I agree. Because, like, I do need to go.
“Okay, I’ll pitch it to her,” I agree. “Thanks, Melanie.”
She smiles. “I’m just here to make the most out of this trip, to be honest. I’ll take a free trip to Delos any day.”
We wade out of the water and back onto the sand, finding that Ms. Barlowe and Ms. Galanis have just returned from their morning of touring the island to let us have our beachy freedom. The itinerary for tomorrow is much the same, so a day trip away will have to be okay on those grounds.
But before I can pitch it to her, Ms. Barlowe calls us all to her.
She’s met with a few half-hearted groans as everyone shifts off their sun-soaked blankets to stand in a circle around her.
I join the cohort, wrapping my towel tight around me.
My hair drips salt onto my shoulders, and sand clings to my wet legs.
“We’re going to have what I think is my favorite of the decathlon events,” Ms. Barlowe says. “The beach games! We’ll need you in two teams that Ms. Galanis and I have formed.”
I end up on a team with Liam, George, and Lucy. Bodhi, Amalia, and Henry face off opposite us, with Melanie joining their team to round out the numbers.
“How will this work for the points system?” Amalia asks.
“Everyone on the winning team will get five points,” Ms. Barlowe tells her. “But try to just have fun with it.”
If the goal was fun, they shouldn’t have put Amalia and George on opposing teams. Our first game of cornhole is quickly declared a wash after the beanbags get thrown too aggressively by both sides, resulting in a 100-percent miss rate and sand sprayed on everyone’s shins.
We move on to potato-sack relay-racing along the waterline. I’m facing off against Melanie, and the two of us share wry grins as Ms. Galanis counts down the start of the race.
“May the best potato win,” Melanie says, then takes off when Ms. Galanis shouts “Go.”
I hop after Melanie, my legs hampered by the rough material of the sack.
Losing a race is not something I do often, and the finish line feels far away, firing up my competitive instincts.
Thighs burning from the effort, I heave my body forward with each leap, throwing myself as far as I can against the hot sand until I pull ahead of Melanie.
The sun lands hard against me, and sweat streaks down the back of my neck, smelling like sunscreen and salt, but I’m determined to maintain my lead.
We hop around the cones Ms. Barlowe placed a few yards away from the starting line and race our way back.
I miscalculate a hop, and the effort sends me flying across the sand.
I collide with the ground, a mouthful of sand for my troubles.
But no way I’m letting Melanie win. I heave myself back to my feet and compensate for the lost time by throwing myself forward to the finish line, inches before she reaches it.
Done with my part of the race, I collapse onto the ground and wriggle out of the sack so that Liam can take over the next leg. The wet sand beneath me clings to the sweat running down my back, but I don’t care. Melanie flops onto the ground next to me, patting my shoulder with a sandy hand.
“You’re a worthy opponent,” she tells me, breaths heaving.
My returned compliment is interrupted by a particularly large wave, which rushes forward enough to meet our bodies. I let it rinse the sand off me, relishing in the wave’s surprising warmth. As it recedes, I climb to my feet.
“Let’s ask about Delos before beach volleyball inevitably puts Ms. Barlowe in a bad mood,” I say.
“Does she not like volleyball or something?” Melanie asks as she follows me across the sand.
I eye George and Amalia, who are moments away from physically pushing each other into the water to win. “I just have a feeling the volleyball is going to hit someone in the face at some point.”
Putting five thousand dollars and a prestigious prize on the line has brought out the inner academic in all of us.
Or at least, the part of academia that’s less about nerding out over our field and more about standing out in it—at any cost. As if to prove my point, George collides with the sand, and Amalia hops neatly over him to claim the win.
I swoop over to Ms. Barlowe before she can process the race, and I explain Melanie’s idea to her. She nods as she listens, her eyes flicking between the two of us.
“Okay,” she says. “I’m going to have to get in touch with your parents and get some permission slip signatures, but that sounds fine as long as Melanie stays with you.”
I nod, meeting Melanie’s eye. “Definitely.”
Melanie cheers. “It’s going to be amazing.”
It’s as she says this, as it becomes too late to change my mind, that the reality sinks in. A whole day away from the cohort, just Melanie and me, island-hopping together.
I can’t tell if I’m excited or if I’m scared out of my wits.