Ocean Blue ✓

chapter thirty

"And then?" Elliot's voice is twice as tight as Neema's, and sounds way deeper than usual. "Neema, do you think the 'authorities' would even care?"

"I don't know, okay? I don't know what a punishment for these girls would look like. If you get the police involved, there might be charges, and their parents are all well-off enough to fight against those. And with the probability of their numbers against you in a 'she said, she said'-kinda case, well."

"Well what?"

"You like The Crucible. These are the village girls, your Winona Ryders."

Elliot makes this small strangled noise. "And I'm Daniel Day Lewis?"

"You're John Proctor, yeah."

"Fuck." Elliot jumps out of bed suddenly, and the sudden intensity of her voice makes me shrink back under the covers. Only half of her face is lit up by the light of the phone screen, but it's a frightened, terrifying half. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How? Why?"

Neema says something, but I don't quite hear it.

"Neema, you know I can't tell them. They don't even know I'm queer. I don't need this to be the first experience they have with my sexuality." It sounds like Neema shouts something at her. Elliot is whispering, but it's just as intense. "I don't care. I can handle this, okay? I can handle it."

Neema says something else, but Elliot must have cut her off. "I need to go," she says coolly. "Thanks for letting me know." She cuts her off again, this time by hanging up.

She keeps running hands through her hair as I roll over to turn on the light of my bedside table. We both blink atway the sudden brightness as our eyes adjust. "Are you okay?" I ask her.

"I'm fine," she says shortly, even though she's obviously so, so not. "I just—I don't get how this could have happened."

"I'm really sorry," I whisper.

"It's okay," she says back. "But, um, I think I might go home."

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of me. And then used to slap me in the face. Hard. "What?"

"I—I need some time to process this. I'm sorry."

I cross my arms, covering my shirtless chest. "Can't you process it here? I'm not going to judge you, Elliot. Please, let me help you." So she gets to be there for me, but I don't get to be there for her?

She shakes her head and sharply inhales. "No, I'm sorry. I just, I can't do this right now. I'll text you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," I say, swinging my legs out of the bed so I can cross over to her. As soon as my feet touch the ground, though, a sharp, searing pain tears through my entire body. I let out a sharp cry before I can stop myself, grabbing the end of my bed to steady my stance.

Elliot is frozen, eyes wide. "Are you okay?" she asks, and I can tell that a 'yes' is the last thing in the world she needs right now.

There's a harsh fizzling in my legs, stabbier and worse than ever before. Somehow, I manage to smile and shake my head. "Just landed on my ankle wrong," I assure her, and suddenly, everything feels gross. Wrong.

"Oh, okay," she says, nodding like she doesn't believe it but desperately wants to. "I'm gonna get going home, okay?"

I give her a tight smile. "Okay."

She doesn't even hug me goodbye. She just tosses on her shirt and leaves.

I don't turn off my lamp right away. Instead, I just stare at my legs and wonder what's making them hurt so bad. What if this is it? What if this is the big one? The one that hurts so much I wish I was dead, and I either make a big ordeal that stresses everyone out like we're living in some Alyssa-driven Hell, or I leave. Just like Mom.