26. Tension
TENSION
I stand on the beach and the wet sand. My feet sink as if in quicksand, and it sucks me under while the water laps at my ankles. The sound of peaceful, slumbering waves crashes through my eardrums.
I want it to stay like this. Listen to the sweet sound, but the world doesn’t work like that for me.
The water sucks up into the ocean, and as I stand there, I overlook the enormous tsunami that grows larger by the moment. Stuck here, I can’t run while everyone else can. They break towards the land, hoping to get out of there before the roaring wave crashes down.
The tsunami rises, and angry growls tear out like a drunken fool stumbling through the front door. And when the wave is over the top of me, and as I raise my arms to shield myself, the water crashes down, drowning me in a surge of pain that swells across my stomach and legs.
I open my mouth, wanting to scream, but the water slips down my throat, clamping my mouth shut like a hand resting over it and suppressing the echoes of my screams. Nearby, there’s a bruised woman with a busted lip. She floats in the water with her body not struggling. No sign of movement.
No signs of life.
Why did the tsunami come? It was a wonderful day, and that night, I spent it in the car, listening to music and talking to a guy who made my heart flutter. Everything was going so smoothly until it hit. The tsunami wondered why the card declined when they wanted one last beer before the drive home.
It was hard to reason with the tsunami as it crashed into me. It didn’t understand that money comes in weekly, and it spent it all before I could work again. But the tsunami had one agenda: to crash into me. And this time, as I lay in the sand after it passed, I wished I were dead.
Pain shudders across my legs as I squat down at recess.
A hiss of breath seethes through clenched teeth, and a sigh mixed with a grunt comes out as I lean against the bricks.
It’s too hot today, but the cold bricks against my back help.
I wish I could have worn shorts, but the bruises are noticeable across my thighs and knees.
Wylan and Dylan hop over the fence and head to the supermarket behind the school to grab snacks. Samantha leans against the wall beside me and starts writing a list of things she needs for this all-girls camping trip. As she prattles on, she helps me mentally note what I need to bring with me.
“Are you excited?” Andy asks as he sits beside me.
“Huh? Oh…yeah. I’ve never been camping before,” I murmur.
“I meant for tonight,” he says, his voice smaller. “I’m taking you to work.”
“You are?” Samantha asks as she raises her perfectly waxed brows. Her dark eyes settle onto me. “No Conner?”
Andy’s hands flex, and his jaw locks.
“No, he will pick me up after work,” I say.
“Of course,” Andy scoffs. “He’s such a gentleman.”
I eye Andy before I look away and ignore his snide, bitter remark.
The thought reminds me of how Andy acted after I joined his group.
Wylan handed me a cigarette, and Andy didn’t like that.
And before that, when we were in primary school, a boy sent me a note.
A harmless note, but Andy thought the guy would do something manipulative, so he prevented the guy from talking to me again.
Now that I think about it, there were many instances when Andy shouldn’t have pushed them away.
After meeting Conner, I know not everyone is evil or corrupt.
Not every boy I meet wants to hurt me. But I overlooked this because I relied on someone for protection.
Yet, now I see his protective motives are unclear in these moments.
Clouded about his reasons from the beginning.
“What are we doing this afternoon?” I ask.
“Well, you don’t start until six, right?” I nod my response. “So, I have a few things I need to do beforehand. You can tag along.”
My hands tighten on my jeans, but the smile on my face is the focus. “Sure.”
Andy smiles as he leans his head back against the wall. “We used to do those drives all the time when I first got my license. I don’t remember why they stopped.”
“Neither,” I lie.
The bell rings when Dylan and Wylan return from the supermarket. Samantha goes to Dylan’s side, and Andy and I walk to Creative Arts. He speaks about the assignment he finally handed in, but senses he won’t be marked highly for it.
Conner is already in class. He sits at the back, notices me, smiles, and gestures to the chair beside him. Andy notices, and his grunting noise of irritation comes through loud and clear as he sits at the table we always sit at.
I’m torn, but after grabbing my art book, I sit beside Andy because I don’t want to change what I’ve done for the past year. A moment later, Conner drags his seat to our desk and slumps beside me with his wide grin and wink. Heat burns against my cheeks as I look away.
“Today is free work,” Mr Rogers announces. “Draw, paint, write, read—do whatever you want today because our lesson tomorrow will be a lot to take in.”
“What’s it about?” Poppie asks.
“Now, why would I spoil the assignment ahead of time?”
“An assignment?” Andy groans. “Why can’t they fuck off for a week?”
I dart a quick look at Andy and grimace.
“Noya,” Conner whispers as he leans towards me. “Is there something wrong with your legs?”
“Why?”
“You looked like an old lady with a bad hip trying to sit.” He chuckles.
“Um…” My hand tightens on my pencil. Andy’s glaring look also makes me nervous to talk. “I exercised last night, so my legs are sore.”
“Why were you exercising?”
Andy lifts his head higher. “Hey, back off, mate.”
“It was only a question,” Conner responds, his brow twitching.
“Squats,” I answer. “Can I study, please?”
Andy smirks. “You heard her.”
“Both of you,” I snap. Then, with an exhaled breath, I grab my pencil case and bag. “Leave me alone.”
I sit at the back, where Conner initially sat, and bury my head into an assignment I need to rewrite after Dad ruined the first one. During study break, I will use the library printer so I can hand in my Ancient History assignment tomorrow.
They don’t bother me for the entire lesson, nor do they seem to have spoken to each other.
Conner and Andy lean as far away from each other as they can.
There is history between them. If I were in their year and in the classes they had together, I could piece together the reason they don’t get along.
From afar, it seems Andy is driven by rivalry and jealousy. However, Conner curls his lips, and from what I remember, his friends cringed when Conner mentioned I hung out at the back of the building with Andy.
By the end of class, Conner heads down the hallway to his next class, and Andy walks me halfway to my health class before making his way to his block.
Samantha leans outside the classroom, chewing her gum. It doesn’t cover her cigarette scent, but she doesn’t care as she plays with her glittery pink lighter with a diamond skull. “Hey,” Samantha says. “How was art?”
“Annoying.”
“Hmm, why? Andy kept talking to you while you were working again?”
“And Conner,” I say. “It wasn’t their fault, though. Mr Rogers gave us a free session, but I just needed to finish some work, and they were bickering the entire time.”
“Did you tell them to fuck off?”
My cheeks turn red, and I look away. “No.”
“You wouldn’t say that to Conner, would you?”
“I wouldn’t say that to either of them.”
Samantha frowns. “I’m surprised Conner kept going. Usually, he’s…you know,”—she waves her hand in front of me—“better at understanding you than anyone else.”
“I think he wanted to irritate Andy.” I shrug. “They don’t like each other that much.”
She pockets her lighter when Mrs Kennedy opens the door and gestures for us to come in. A diagram on the board shows male and female anatomy, and the boys snigger.
“Wylan told me some time back that Andy and Conner got into an argument while they were doing a group assignment.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“Supposedly, Andy didn’t want to take part. Wylan didn’t really say much about it.”
I can see that. I can picture Andy not doing his work, being difficult to work with, and getting Conner to pick up the slack. Honestly, it would have pissed me off. The thought that I would have had to do everything and Andy would get a free ride wouldn’t bode well for me.
“Anyway, I doubt that’s why Andy is a dick to Conner,” he says.
I lower my focus and go back to work.
The rest of the day goes by quickly, and as I walk towards the car park, I head to Conner’s car, only to notice that it’s not there, and Andy is waiting for me in his car with a smile.
I open the car and inhale the scent of mowed grass. He throws a few shirts and a bottle of water into the back seat, where his sports bag, worn-out socks, three pairs of sneakers, and a takeaway bag are already resting.
The passenger seat has a cigarette burn from a past incident. Andy often talks with his hands, and when he holds his cigarette and flicks the ash, part of it burns, and a hole forms in the passenger seat.
“Sorry about the mess,” he laughs awkwardly.
I smile tightly as I ease myself into the seat and snap the belt buckle across my chest. Andy’s car rumbles to life, causing it to vibrate until he drives off. Slowly, as the car keeps driving, the rumbling stops.
I don’t ask where we are going, and by the first stop outside of this shady-looking home with a broken fence, dogs barking behind the second gate, a lawn barely touched, I remember this drop-off.
Andy even confirms it by reaching into his glove box, taking out a tin, grabbing a foil packet, and going to the house.
I look ahead as the door opens, and Andy hands a woman a foil packet. And when he returns and slides into the car, he says, “All right, three stops left, then we can park near your work and talk.”
“Sure,” I murmur.
As Andy parks outside the third house and on the wealthier side of the city, I flip my phone over and smile at the message from Conner.
Conner: I miss driving with you
Me: I will see you after work!
I bite my lip as my thumb hovers over the touch keypad, but Andy opens the door before I can send another message. I flip the phone over, slot it between my thighs, and give Andy a tight-lipped smile.
He drives me to the supermarket parking lot. We didn’t talk the entire way, and whenever I opened my mouth to fill the silence, I noticed the nervous look on his face and decided to let it go.
Andy appears to be deep in thought, and I don’t want to pry. However, being in the car with Andy makes me yearn to see Conner. His energy differs from Andy’s, and it’s hard not to notice.
As we park, he takes a deep breath while I scan the parking lot. People walk past in groups. It’s a Thursday night, and the shops are open for an extra two hours on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. These three days are when workers shop after work, and students hang out before the shops close.
Perhaps I can leave Andy’s car earlier and let him know that I need to prepare for the influx of people entering the supermarket. I’m sure he will understand.
I open my mouth, ready to speak, but Andy blurts, “I love you, Noya.”