Notes: Angst warning plus some mention of/allusion to bullying and underage drinking.
Part one
"Come out, Myka," a muffled and exasperated voice filtered through the dressing room door.
Myka Bering sighed at her reflection and tugged on the hem of her dress one more time. She regarded herself critically in the mirror. Her long, dark curls, almost always impossible to tame, were pulled back tightly. She still thought her limbs looked too long for the rest of her body, but she had to admit she had grown a bit more proportional in the past year or so. Her face was... fine, she supposed. Nothing special.
The dress currently clinging to her body, however, was certainly something. Her friend, H.G., had picked it out for her, downright insisting that she try it on. Strapless, bright red and, because of the length of Myka's legs, very short- it certainly wasn't the type of thing she would ever have selected for herself.
"I- I don't think it really fits," Myka called back finally, "but it's okay- I can just come back with my mom next week."
"Please," the other girl whined, her accented voice sounding closer than before, "just come out and let me see it."
Myka smiled. She could picture the annoyed, and probably pitiful, expression H.G. was surely wearing. It sounded like the girl was leaning right up against the door.
"Alright, fine," the smile slipped off Myka's face, "but you can't laugh."
She wasn't even sure why she was so nervous. Sure, the dress was a bit tight and pretty short, but she had worn a bathing suit in front of H.G. lots of times. Myka nodded to herself, gathering her courage.
"Cross my heart," H.G. offered excitedly from outside the door, "Though, I suppose, being a devout atheist, that idiom probably doesn't-"
The words died on H.G.'s lips as the dressing room door swung open. A foreign burn hummed inside Myka's belly as H.G.'s eyes widened ever so slightly. Her friend didn't say anything for a long beat, just looked Myka up and down with an unreadable expression.
"You hate it," Myka felt her face flush as she turned quickly to re-enter the safety of the dressing room. H.G. grabbed the edge of the door before it could close.
"Myka, wait," she said finally, "I don't hate it, you just took me by surprise. Now turn 'round so I can judge it properly. Please?"
Myka sighed, feeling foolish and more than a little confused at her reaction.
"Sorry," she breathed, back still to the other girl, "I just- getting dressed up makes me so uncomfortable."
"I know," H.G. replied quickly, "I'm sorry- I hate to think I've added to your discomfort."
Myka nodded, knowing how true those words were. Since moving from England to South Dakota five years ago, H.G. had become her closest friend- though she would never tell that to Pete, her BFF (his choice of phrase, not hers) since first grade. Myka closed her eyes for just a moment, willing the blush to fade, before she turned around.
"You look quite beautiful, Myka," H.G. said quietly, sincerely, and it did nothing to quell the warmth in Myka's cheeks.
"It's not too short?" She checked, self-consciously tugging the dress as far down as she could. H.G. merely shook her head in response.
"You really like it?" Myka crossed her arms in front of her body, "I feel like I'm not even me."
"Nonsense, you're definitely you. Besides, it's prom," H.G. declared with finality, "When else in this godforsaken town can we get dressed to the nines?"
"You're really sure you don't mind going without a date?" she checked, not for the first time, "I'm sure one of Pete's friends would love to take you."
It had been sweet, the way that Pete had insisted they go together. It was glaringly obvious that no one would ask Myka; H.G. and Pete were her only friends. She knew he could have had his pick of girls, being captain of the football and wrestling teams, but he had shrugged it off. He claimed it was a BFF necessity, and, if she said "no," it would break his heart.
"Those neanderthals?" H.G. scoffed, "No, thank you. I'm perfectly capable of attending a dance on my own. I refuse to lower my standards just because there are no suitable, available options."
"Available?" Myka felt her face light up as she decided to tease her friend a bit, "Why, Ms. Wells, do you have a crush? Actual feelings for a boy? I'm scandalized!"
Helena made a face that was part grimace and part scowl before dropping her gaze.
"I didn't mean it like that, Myka," she shook her head.
Myka's chest tightened at the sight of the girl in front of her. She was such an idiot sometimes- why had she even said that?
"Helena," Myka tried awkwardly, reaching out to gently grasp her friend's upper arm, "I- I'm sorry. I didn't- that was-"
"It's fine," she said with a shaky inhale, "I just- Sometimes, I feel like a bit of a freak-"
"You're not," Myka interrupted with conviction, stepping closer as she brought both hands up to H.G.'s shoulders, "Cross my heart."
She quirked up one side of her mouth, hoping the familiar gesture would reassure the other girl. Helena held her gaze a few moments more, her eyes pained, before she looked down and stepped away.
"Come, then, let's get that dress paid for," Myka detected false brightness in her friend's tone, "And then, I believe you owe me some chips."
"Fries," Myka muttered at her friend's retreating form before heading back to the changing room to take off the dress.
/
The night of the prom came much faster than Myka would've liked - school days were steadily slipping away, marching all the seniors ever closer to graduation. She had taken to practically begging teachers for assignments, but, to her, it still didn't seem like very much work.
The sharp ring of the doorbell pulled Myka from her thoughts and she hopped up from her place on the couch.
"I got it!" She called over her shoulder, knowing her attempt at keeping her parents away was very likely futile.
She pulled open the heavy door to reveal a grinning Pete Lattimer standing alongside Trevor Ross. Trevor Ross? What the hell was he doing here?
"Pete?" She narrowed her eyes and drew out the 'e' in his name, the same way she always did when he was being an idiot.
"Woah, Mykes," his eyes wide, "you're hot!"
She tried to ignore the way he said it- like the notion that she could be attractive had taken him by complete surprise. She grabbed him by the collar of his tux, sparing a tight smile for Trevor before pulling him into the living room.
"What the hell is Trevor doing here?" The words came out as a whispered hiss.
"Take it easy, Mykes," he shrugged out of her grasp, smoothing his lapel, "His date got sick at the last minute and I figured he could go with H.G." Pete looked pleased with himself.
"And did you think to ask H.G. if she wanted a date?" Myka asked, glancing back at Trevor, who had let himself in and was awkwardly hovering by the door.
"Didn't think it would be a big deal," Pete shrugged, "I figured she'd be happy to not be a third wheel."
"She wasn't going to be a third wheel," Myka felt her voice raising and willed herself to calm down. She sighed and shook her head as her mother came bustling into the room, camera around her neck.
"If she kicks your ass," Myka jabbed a finger at Pete's chest, "I'm not going to stop her."
"Fair," Pete nodded, "Oh, hey! I brought you a corsage!"
Myka grinned begrudgingly and punched him in the arm.
"You clean up alright, Lattimer," she told him fondly, ignoring his protest at being hit, before walking over to Trevor.
"Sorry, Trevor, come on in," she tried to be polite, but the boy's presence was still bothering her, "I didn't mean to be rude, I just didn't know you were coming."
"Pete told me he asked," Trevor sulked, glaring at his buddy, "Sorry."
Pete, meanwhile, had picked up Myka's mom in a crushing bearhug, and was spinning her in a circle.
"Don't worry about it," Myka offered, ushering Trevor over to a chair.
"I'll be right back with those cookies, dear, you just make yourself comfortable," she heard her mother say as she made her way back to the kitchen.
"I always do!" Pete called back, hopping over the back of the couch and landing in a casual, reclined position with practiced ease. Myka shook her head at him.
"You're going to wrinkle your tux," she chided gently. Pete merely shrugged in response.
"Knock, knock," Myka smiled broadly as soon as she heard H.G.'s voice drift across the room.
She spun around quickly to greet her friend, hoping the addition of Trevor wouldn't spoil their night. She apparently hadn't been prepared for the sight of H.G. dressed up, and her stomach dropped uncomfortably.
Helena was stunning (literally stunning, it seemed, as Myka realized she hadn't moved or said anything) in a little black dress. Myka felt something she couldn't place, probably jealousy, as she studied the girl in front of her. The dress wasn't quite as short as Myka's, but a well-placed slit exposed her thigh impossibly high. The neckline dipped low and Myka wondered how she had gotten it to drape so perfectly.
"Are you alright?" H.G. asked, striding toward her.
"Yeah," she sputtered, grabbing at the base of her neck as she stepped back to put some distance between herself and her friend, "I'm fine. That dress is… really awesome. I, um, I'm jealous."
Why was she being so weird? She tried to swallow down the butterflies that had suddenly taken up residence in her belly.
"Thank you, Myka," Helena beamed, "and you look as lovely as ever."
"Damn, Trevor," Pete said loudly, sitting up on the couch, "I'm pretty sure we're going to have the hottest dates at the prom. Glad I invited you, huh?"
Myka rolled her eyes, but didn't turn away from H.G. She watched as her friend finally noticed the two boys waiting by the couch. When Helena's face tightened, registering her obvious displeasure at the site of Trevor, Myka found herself smiling perversely.
Trevor was a good-looking guy, she had to admit, and part of her assumed immediately that Helena would be happy to have him as a date. So why was she pleased that H.G. seemed as put off by him as she did? Myka sighed, trying to clear her thoughts with a shake of her head.
"Mom," she called, walking back to the couch, "we want to get going. Let's take these pictures, I guess."
The night already wasn't going the way she hoped it would, and she was anxious to get it over with.
"Alright, alright," her mother replied, carrying a plate of cookies into the room, "we'll just take a few, honey. You all look so grown up."
Mrs. Bering smiled fondly at Pete, who was offering a corsage awkwardly toward Myka. She rolled her eyes again and thrust out her arm. Pete grinned and slipped the flower around her wrist.
"I, uh, got you one, too," she whipped her head around as she heard Trevor's deep voice boom behind her.
Trevor looked hopeful as he, like Pete, held a corsage out toward his date. However, unlike Pete, Trevor had opted for the pin-able type of flower. She almost laughed out loud as she saw H.G. almost imperceptibly snarl before sighing, seemingly resigned to her fate.
"I went for the wrist option," Pete whispered in her ear, "I figured you'd punch me if I got anywhere near your chestal region."
Myka gave him a little shove before registering the full weight of his words and turning her attention back to the scene in front of her.
If Trevor made any moves, she would do… something. She pursed her lips, not knowing what she would actually do. Luckily for her (and Trevor), she didn't have to figure it out because the boy pinned the corsage quickly and without any obvious incident.
"Lattimer," Myka flinched as she heard her father's voice.
"Hey, Mr. Bering," Pete waved happily, "how's it going?"
Pete was convinced that Myka's parents thought of him as the son they never had. While that was probably true for her mother, her father often seemed to barely tolerate his shenanigans.
"I shouldn't even have to say this," he growled, walking over, "but if anything happens to my daughter, don't bother coming back. Got it?"
"10-4, sir," Pete nodded, "Oh hey, this is my buddy Trevor. He's gonna be H.G.'s date."
Myka watched nervously as her father nodded his acknowledgement of the other boy.
"Hello, Trevor," the boy held out his hand and her father took it, "Just so we're clear, the same goes for you, son."
Myka knew she should be embarrassed by her father's behavior, most teenage girls probably would be, but it mostly just made her happy to know her dad cared about her friend so much.
Her father had been charmed by Helena from the very first time he met her. Even as a thirteen year old, H.G. had been all grace and sophistication. The pair had discussed 18th century literature while Myka awkwardly tried to get a word in edgewise.
"My white knight," H.G. faux-swooned and Mr. Bering, usually a mask of gruffness, actually cracked a genuine smile.
"Ok, kids," her mother clasped the camera around her neck, "go over by the mantle."
"Where's Trace?" Pete wondered as they walked across the room.
"Oh, she actually left a little while ago," Myka explained, "She's going with Bradford Dawson."
"Seriously?" Pete's eyebrows shot up, "Your sister is a freshman and Brad's even more popular than me."
Myka just shrugged her response, not really wanting to talk about Tracy. H.G. must have sensed her discomfort, because she was by her side in an instant.
"Come on," she grasped Myka's hand with a squeeze, "let's get a girls photo first, yes? Just us?"
Myka couldn't fight the grin taking over her face as she nodded. Helena's hand snaked around her waist, so Myka brought her arm up around the other girl's shoulders. She was quickly overwhelmed by the feel of smooth skin under her fingertips and the closeness of H.G. at her side. She swallowed and tightened the hold on her friend.
"Ok, now smile, girls," her mother called in a singsong voice.
And, somehow, Myka was able to do just that. She ignored the weirdness she had been feeling more and more lately, and just focused on how great it was to be there with her best friend. How safe and genuinely happy she felt when Helena was around. She was surely beaming like an idiot, but she didn't care.
"Gorgeous," her mom praised and Helena gave her waist an extra squeeze.
The rest of the photos went by as smoothly as could be expected. Her mom seemed to have an endless combination of poses and configurations for them to grit their teeth and smile through.
Soon enough, the foursome found themselves climbing excitedly into a limo. Though she been dreading prom night for weeks, Myka had to admit that this part was kind of fun.
"Ladies first," Trevor said, smoothly producing a flask from his jacket pocket and offering it his date.
If H.G. was surprised at all by his actions, she didn't let it show. She merely smiled her thanks and took a long pull from the metal container. Myka, meanwhile, could feel her eyebrows raising up to her hairline.
"Don't look so shocked, Mykes," Pete nudged her and pulled out a flash of his own, "it's prom! Everyone gets wasted- it's like a coming of age tradition. I seriously think even your dad would approve of this."
"You know that's not true," Myka countered, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Ok, probably not," Pete agreed easily, unscrewing the cap and thrusting the flask into her hands, "but poppa's not here right now."
"Yes, Myka," H.G. piped up from across the limo, "let's loosen up for the evening. You've let your hair down literally, now shall we let it down figuratively?"
Helena lifted the container once more in a mock toast, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Myka studied her for a long beat, before sighing in defeat. She supposed a few sips wouldn't hurt. They both leaned forward to clink their flasks together. Myka held Helena's gaze as she took a few swallows of alcohol. The liquid burned uncomfortably as it traveled down her throat, but she fought the urge to cough.
"Thatta girl," Pete gave her a soft slap on the back before taking the flask and tipping it back for a long pull, "Ow owwww!"
The sound that came out of Pete was sort of a hybrid howl/yell and Myka couldn't help but laugh at him. Maybe prom wouldn't be so terrible after all.
/
Myka sat alone at a large, round table, running her finger around the rim of a water glass. Prom, so far, hadn't been bad, really, but it was starting to get boring. She'd had just enough rum in the limo that she was nervous about seeming drunk in front of the chaperones.
To compensate, she'd tried to act as uptight as possible throughout dinner. She didn't say much, mostly just listened to Helena as the girl made up stories about the couples that surrounded them.
Now, however, the effects of the alcohol seemed to be wearing off and she couldn't find any of the people she came with. A few minutes ago, Pete had come by to check on her. She told him she was perfectly happy, and gladly accepted a glass of spiked punch.
She was in the middle of a long sip when H.G. bonelessly draped her body in the chair next to her. She saw the girl's mouth move, but with the din of the crowd and the way the light was reflecting softly off Helena's hair, Myka realized she had no idea what her friend has said.
"Hmm? What did you say?"
She had found herself doing that a lot lately. She would get distracted by the way Helena's accent sounded pronouncing a certain word or how her eyes would turn fiery when she defended a book she loved, and she would have to ask the girl to repeat herself. It made Myka feel rude, like a bad friend, but it seemed to amuse H.G. endlessly.
"I asked if you'd like to dance," she smirked.
"Helena," Myka giggled, feeling warm as she nudged the girl with her shoulder, "it's a slow song- we can't."
H.G. looked momentarily deterred, but then grinned wickedly and nudged back, "And why ever can't we? Our dates are off getting pissed and I fancy a dance."
Myka realized her friend wasn't kidding and that unnameable pull from deep within her stomach flared up again. She shook her head, looking down.
"You goof," she tried to keep her tone light, "everyone would stare."
"So?" Myka glanced up to find brown eyes staring back at her, challenging her, "Let them. In case you haven't noticed, people have been staring at you all night. You're gorgeous."
Myka dropped her head once more, her cheeks burning.
"If they've looked this way, it's at you- not me," Myka protested, sipping down more of the punch, "And if you want to dance, I bet any of these guys would trip over each other to offer their arm."
"Yes, well, that's the problem, isn't it?" Helena sighed, standing up abruptly, "I don't fancy a dance with any of them, do I?"
With that, the girl strode purposefully toward the bathroom, leaving Myka, and her alcohol-addled brain, to ponder just exactly what had happened.
/
"Are you mad at me or something?" Myka asked, stumbling forward as she leaned in close to Helena to be heard over the noise of the party.
The boys had met them when the dance ended and they had certainly been pissed, as H.G. liked to say. Trevor slurred, inviting them all to Bradford's post-prom party and telling them how awesome it was going to be.
For some strange reason, Myka found herself easily agreeing to the invitation. Helena had been distant- agreeing to the party, but not saying much else. Once they arrived, she split from the group and Myka hadn't seen her for the past hour.
"No, Myka," Helena sighed, taking a sip of beer.
"You seem mad," Myka swayed and grabbed the wall to steady herself. It occurred to her then that perhaps she had had a few too many beers, but it seemed easier to keep drinking from the party's never-ending keg than to think about anything.
"Are you drunk?" H.G. finally turned to look at her.
"Maybe," Myka giggled, taking another swig, "You guys told me to let my hair down, right?"
Helena sighed again, "Not like this."
"Like what?" She asked, tilting her head.
"I intended for us to just loosen up a bit and have an enjoyable evening," Helena studied her, "Are you having fun?"
Myka shrugged.
"I missed you," she answered honestly, swaying once more. H.G. reached out to steady her and Myka found that she couldn't stop staring at the other girl's eyes.
"Myka," Helena started warily, but didn't get any further as Pete chose that very moment to stumble toward them.
"My two favorite ladies," he said loudly, putting an arm around each of them. Myka leaned into the embrace happily- Pete felt wonderfully stable and simple.
"Do me a solid, girls," he continued, leading them slowly into another room, "and come play spin the bottle. People will be mad impressed if I show up with the two hottest chicks at the party."
"Pete," Myka giggled, but didn't respond to his invitation.
"Yes, alright Pete," H.G. piped up from his other side, "let's join the game."
"Yes!" Pete squeezed them tighter and led them toward a group of kids sitting on the ground in a circle. Myka froze when she realized her sister was among them. Pete didn't notice that she had stopped walking, he simply filled in an open spot on the floor.
"Myka, are you alright?" Helena was suddenly at her side, her hand warm around the crook of Myka's elbow, "We don't have to play, you know."
"Come on, guys!" Pete called over his shoulder, "These lips are raring to go!"
"I'm- It's fine," Myka shook her head, trying to smile.
She would be normal tonight, she had decided it somewhere around her third beer. And she was pretty sure normal meant playing spin the bottle and being social with her sister. She walked ahead of H.G., who frowned as she passed, and filled another gap in the circle.
"Woah, Myka," her sister raised an eyebrow at her, "you look different."
"You mean hot," Bradford interjected and most of the guys in the circle laughed.
Myka willed herself not to blush as Tracy leaned across the circle to give Bradford a shove.
"Gross, Brad," she smiled, "that's my sister."
Bradford just shrugged and grinned the grin of a privileged young man. Out of the corner of her eye, Myka noticed H.G. slide wordlessly into the circle across from her.
"Okay, okay," Bradford said, "you all know the rules, I'm sure. If you land on the same person twice, you gotta use tongue."
Myka saw Pete nod emphatically to her right and rolled her eyes at him.
The game began without incident, but Myka felt herself getting increasingly anxious as her turn was approaching. What had she been thinking, playing this game? Finally, a junior boy named Freddie passed her the bottle. She accepted it with a weak smile and took a deep breath.
The bottle seemed to spin for minutes, much longer than anyone else's turn, but it finally slowed to a stop, landing on… Pete. She groaned for show, but was actually very pleased with her luck. Pete was safe.
"Jeez, Mykes," Pete shuffled closer to her, "if I wasn't so good looking, you'd hurt my feelings."
He leaned over and planted a quick peck on her lips before she even knew it was happening. She smiled at him and the game continued.
On the next turn, however, Greg's bottle stopped directly on Freddie. Myka's breath caught as she waited to see what would happen. Both boys made disgusted faces at one another.
"Nah, uh, uh," Pete said jovially, "Rules are rules, boys. Ya gotta kiss."
"Ew, Pete, that's fucking gross," Myka dropped her gaze as she heard her sister's voice.
"Yeah, man," Bradford chimed in. "I don't want any queers at my party."
Myka downed the rest of her beer, feeling uncomfortable and suddenly very sad.
"Okay, dude, take it easy," Pete put his hands up submissively, "It's all good. I think maybe it's time for a drink refill, yeah?" Bradford studied him seriously for a moment more before his expression changed and he chugged his beer.
"Keg stands!" Bradford shouted, hopping up and pulling a giggling Tracy to her feet. The rest of the group either followed or milled around in smaller factions, the game broken up for now.
Myka exhaled a sigh of relief before getting to her feet and stumbling toward the back door. She was in desperate need of some fresh air. She passed a few smokers loitering on the deck and walked out into the yard.
Once Myka got near the tree line, she unceremoniously dropped to the grass. She sprawled out on her back and looked up at the clear sky. Lying in the cool grass made her feel a little better, but she still felt overwhelmed and couldn't figure out why.
"You'll stain your dress," Helena sighed as she gracefully sat a few feet from Myka.
"It's fine- I'm never going to wear it again anyway," she closed her eyes.
"Myka," the girl began tentatively, "are you alright?"
"I don't know," she answered honestly, covering her face with her hands.
"Do you- do you want to talk about it?" She asked after a few moments.
"I'm not even sure how I- I don't know what to say," she mumbled.
"Well, why don't you just start talking, come on then," Helena reclined next to her, close enough so Myka could feel the heat radiating off her arm and it made her shiver.
"Trevor pinned a corsage on you," she stated randomly.
"Yes," Helena replied slowly, and after a long moment, "he did. He was my date, apparently."
"I didn't know he was coming," Myka was fast to explain.
"That's alright," Helena's response came more quickly this time, "it's all worked out just fine."
"I didn't invite him, you know?" She continued, "I didn't ask him to pin you with anything. I wouldn't have done that."
There was another pause before Helena replied, "Is Trevor really the problem here?"
Myka shook her head, which was still covered by her draped arms. She took a deep breath before responding.
"I feel like everything's weird right now, I don't know how to describe it," Myka told her, "And we're going to leave for college really soon, and I know we said it would be fine and that we would keep in touch and visit, but it just doesn't feel fine anymore. I don't know."
Myka groaned at her own rambling and heard Helena shift beside her. She felt a soft hand pull each arm, one at a time, off her face and back down to her sides. She felt that same hand tug gently through her hair. She swallowed down the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat.
"Myka, will you look at me?" Her stomach flopped and she shivered again as the soft voice reached her ears.
Finally, Myka opened her eyes to find her friend much closer than she had been before, propped up on her side. The hand that had been gently playing with her hair was moving to her jaw, as Helena stared into her eyes. Myka was paralyzed, her heart beating erratically, but she couldn't look away.
"I just," Helena whispered, hand sliding around to the back of her neck, "Can I?"
Myka didn't know what she was asking- didn't really know what was happening- but found that she couldn't stop staring at her friend's dark eyes.
Helena inched impossibly closer, her eyes darting to glance at Myka's lips, which Myka then moistened subconsciously. After another long moment, Helena closed her eyes and Myka did the same, still frozen in place. All of a sudden, Myka's breath caught as she felt a delicate, tentative mouth cover her own.
Myka reveled in the softness for a few seconds, feeling something settle in her chest, before jerking away abruptly. She stared at Helena with wide eyes, inching away from the girl to sit up.
"What- what the hell?" Myka stammered, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
"Myka, I-" Helena whispered, "I- what?" The girl was shaking her head, confused.
"H.G.," Myka wiped at a tear that had somehow leaked from her eye, "what the fuck are you doing?"
"What?" Helena narrowed her eyes, still shaking her head.
"You-" Myka realized she was crying now, but didn't really know why, "That's gross. Why did you do that?"
"Myka, stop it," H.G. grit her teeth and Myka tried to ignore the way her friend's voice broke.
"I'm not a freak," Myka spat, wishing she could stop talking, or crying, or both, "I'm not-" She choked on a sob.
"Myka," Helena repeated with disbelief, reaching out toward her.
"No!" she shouted, "Don't touch me. I'm not- I'm… You're disgusting."
Helena's eyes widened with hurt before her jaw clenched angrily. Without another word, she turned away from Myka, got up and half-walked, half-ran back toward the house.
Myka sat there, stunned and crying, fighting against the urge to yell for Helena to wait, to come back. She shook her head, wishing she could think, but all her thoughts were blurring uncomfortably.
The only thing Myka was sure of was that she felt sad. Unbelievably, inconsolably sad. She wiped angrily at her eyes once more, before pushing herself up to unsteady feet. She made her way across the yard and was back inside the house before she realized she hadn't thought of a plan of action.
"Myka?"
She heard her sister's voice over the crowd noise coming from across the room and instinctively turned in the opposite direction. She pushed through groups of people, hoping she didn't look like quite as much of a mess as she felt, before feeling a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Mykes," she blinked and Pete came into focus, "are you okay?" She shook her head.
"I'm going home," she said, refusing to make eye contact with her oldest friend.
"Okay, let me grab my jacket," he told her, "It's right there on the couch."
"No, you stay," she shook her head, "I'll be fine."
Pete grabbed her hand and led her to the couch, quickly grabbing his jacket before steering them toward the front door.
"Pete, I'm serious," she protested as he closed the door behind them, "I don't want to spoil your night." She felt herself starting to cry again and sighed with frustration.
"Nah, it's a lame party anyway," he offered, draping his jacket over her shoulders, "Bradford's a douche."
Something like a laugh escaped from her mouth as she tried hard not to break down.
"I saw H.G. bolt outta here just a few minutes ago," Pete continued, "We might be able to catch up with her. Was somebody a jerk to you guys?"
Myka flinched and shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Pete spoke again.
"Seriously, Mykes," he said, "if one of those assholes said anything or, or did anything to either of you-"
"No, Pete, it's not like that. I don't want to talk about it," Myka interrupted quickly, "and I don't want to see H.G. right now. We- I- I just don't want to see her right now."
Pete's eyes widened with understanding and he nodded.
"Okay," he said simply, putting a warm arm around her shoulders. They walked the rest of the way home in near silence, the only sounds breaking the still night were the clacking of Myka's heels on the pavement and her occasional sniffles.
/
Helena was a ghost over the next few weeks. Myka only saw her in school every now and again, but her absences weren't unusual for a Senior about to graduate. In fact, Myka was pretty sure that she was the only member of her grade that hadn't cut class at all.
Pete attempted to subtly find out what had happened at the party a few times, but every time he did so, Myka would shut down. He gave up after about a week, but didn't stop giving her concerned looks when he thought she wasn't paying attention.
Even Myka's family noticed that something was up, each of them responding in their own way. Her mother started cooking Myka's favorite things for almost every meal. She took to making awkwardly forced offhand comments like, "You know you can tell me anything, right?" Or, "I remember how complicated everything was at your age."
Her sister was being strangely nice to her, going so far as to even acknowledge and talk to her at school. A few times at home, she looked like she wanted to say something important, but would always end up just forcing a smile before asking Myka to "pass the salt" or something equally mundane.
Surprisingly, her father seemed to have the best idea of what was going on in Myka's head. She was helping out in the bookstore her family owned the evening before her last day of high school, when he awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Where has Helena been lately?" he asked, glancing up at her, "There are a few pieces in this shipment that I think she'd be particularly interested in."
"You know, dad," she began in a measured voice, her head down, "there's so much going on lately, graduation and all, and she's been really busy."
"Oh," he grunted, "I thought Tracy mentioned that Helena was going to miss your graduation. Something about going to visit family in England before heading off to college?"
"I, um," Myka's head swam, "You know, I can't remember. I actually have to go do some homework, okay? I'll see you at dinner."
Myka's father raised an eyebrow, but nodded, saying nothing. The both knew that she hadn't had homework assigned in over a week.
She saw Helena only once during the commotion of the last day of school. The other girl was cleaning out her locker down at the opposite end of the hall. They locked eyes for just a moment before Myka turned away, but she felt a deep, empty ache after seeing Helena's pained expression. She wasn't able to shake the image from her head.
Later that evening, Myka lay on her bed, listening to the most depressing CDs she owned and staring up at her ceiling. Her cell phone was trapped tightly in her sweaty grip as she contemplated her options. Before she could decide on anything, however, she felt it buzz within her fingers. She flipped the phone open and her chest tightened; she knew it would be from Helena before she looked at the screen.
Will you meet me at the park? I'd like to talk to you.
Myka willed her pulse to slow down as she typed a quick response.
When?
Myka bit her lip as she waited to see what H.G. would say. She already knew she would go, whatever time Helena said.
Whenever. I'm here already, but I'll wait as long as you need.
Myka's stomach rolled, but she nodded resolutely, sitting up as she replied.
I'm on my way.
Ten minutes later, Myka took a steadying breath as she walked up to the swing set where Helena sat. She hoped she looked more confident than she felt.
"Hey," she said, sitting on the other swing.
"Hello," H.G. replied, not looking up, "thanks for coming."
"Uh, no problem," Myka said, feeling awkward as she began to swing lightly.
"I want to be direct with you, Myka," H.G. told her, taking a deep breath.
"Okay," Myka nodded, feeling extremely shaky.
"I'm leaving," she began quietly, "Tomorrow, actually. And I needed to see if you had anything to say to me before I left."
"So, it's true," Myka breathed, "I heard a rumor that you were leaving early, but I didn't know…"
She trailed off and finally looked over at her friend. Helena was staring back at her, with an expression she couldn't figure out. Neither girl spoke for a long moment.
"Well, my dad got a new shipment of books in," Myka looked away, "and he thought there were a few you would especially like. So, you should really come see before you leave-"
"Myka," H.G. interrupted, "do you have anything to say to me?" The girl looked so broken that Myka had to fight against the urge to reach out to her. She shook her head, trying to clear everything inside it.
"I don't-" Myka started and stopped, "I'm not ready for you to leave, I don't think."
"Why not?" H.G. asked softly.
"Helena, please, just- I'm not," Myka struggled to find the right words.
"Why not, Myka?" Helena asked again, voice shaking, and twisted in her swing so she was facing her friend. She reached a tentative hand out and placed it gently on Myka's thigh.
Myka jumped up as though Helena's hand had burned her. She backed away a couple of steps, heart ready to burst from her chest.
"Don't do that," she begged through gritted teeth, "H.G., I…" Myka trailed off, realizing she had no idea what to say. She had no idea how to explain herself, no clue how to stop feeling things she couldn't figure out.
"Goodbye, Myka," Helena stood abruptly, discretely wiping a tear from her eye, "I'll ask you to kindly not contact me unless you've decided to be honest with yourself."
"Helena," Myka gaped at her, "You can't-"
"I would wish you luck at university," H.G. continued as though Myka hadn't spoken, and picked up her bag from the ground, "but I doubt you will need it."
"Helena," Myka repeated sternly, louder now. The other girl finally looked up at her, eyes glassy with tears.
"I hope you'll be happy, Myka," she said sadly, "I truly wish nothing but the best for you. I'd give you a hug, but I'm not very interested in being called a freak again."
Helena's expression turned icy as she spat the word, and Myka recoiled. Before she could respond, H.G. turned and walked away.
Six years later
"Hang on!" Myka called, rinsing the last bit of soap out of her bowl and depositing it in the rack before drying her hands quickly. She carried the towel with her to the front door, wondering who would possibly be coming by unannounced on a Sunday afternoon.
Assuming that it had to be Pete trying, once again, to get her to watch football with him, Myka didn't bother checking the peep hole. She flung open the door unceremoniously, one hand on her hip, ready to tell him (for the last time) that she just didn't really care about the Broncos.
The sight that greeted her on the other side of her threshold, however, made her stomach drop and her breath catch. Standing there, nervously shifting a backpack on her shoulder, was Helena G. Wells.
"Hello, Myka."