⌚ 4:49 AM
El's mother is crying, blood spilling from her eyes; she's pointing a gun to her own head. Screaming, hyperventilating, nearly pulling her hair out. The dark circles under her eyes are still distinguishable despite the sticky, red liquid flowing down her cheeks. The woman - El refuses that's Lisa Thropp, though her dark hair, pale skin and long nose are clearly her mother's - collapses, and El tries to move her legs to help, but she's stuck there, watching helplessly. The eyes crying blood go black, nearly matching the color of her tears. El watches in horror as her mother - it really is her, undeniably, unfortunately - chokes out a final "I love you" before pulling the trigger.
BANG!
"No no no...don't...no no no no no no no...MOM!"
At first, El isn't sure whether the words came from Grace's mouth or her own. El is roused from her sleep when she hears Grace thrash above her, whimpering (so it was Grace). She leaps from bottom bunk and climbs up to the top.
"Grace!" El shouts, shaking her. "Wake up, wake up, you're just dreaming." At the same time, she tries to convince herself of the same - you're just dreaming, just dreaming, just a dream, just in your head, not real.
Grace elbows El in the stomach, eyes still closed, still muttering incoherent words.
El almost loses her balance and almost topples off top bunk, but she grabs at Grace's leg just in time - she wakes up. Gasping, Grace sobs, clinging onto El suddenly. This takes the latter aback but she holds Grace tight, whispering "it's okays" and "it's fines" and "you're awake nows" into her ear.
"God, I'm pathetic," Grace hiccups after she's calmed down a bit.
"You're not," El says, giving Grace a reassuring squeeze before letting go.
"What time is it?" Grace lets out a shaky sigh, running a hand through her hair (which somehow is still silky and perfect).
El glances at the clock on the wall across from them. "Almost five."
"Well," Grace swipes at her eyes. El tries not to think about her mother's blood tears. Who even dreams of things like that? "No use going back to sleep now." Grace moves past El and climbs down the ladder, landing with a muted thump on the hardwood floor, and heads to the bathroom.
El doesn't find herself wanting to sleep any time soon, either. (Blood tears. Nope.)
⌚ 5:23 AM
When El steps out of the bathroom soaking wet in only a towel, she stops short. Grace looks up from her sandals after slipping her feet into them. What happened to her Prada sneakers? A pink slip hangs loosely from her body, doing very little to cover up the bikini Grace is wearing.
El grips her towel a little tighter and ignores Grace's judging eyes looking her up and down. Yes, she knows the girl is flawless but she doesn't have to remind El that she (being El) really just isn't.
"You do know it's our fifteenth day here, right?" Grace asks lightly.
"Yeah," El replies. "Duh."
"Then why in the name of baby Jesus are you wearing those?" The distaste in Grace's voice is tangible enough to throw at El's face.
"These?" El holds up the sports bra and underwear (patterned with little pink bows) in her hand. Aware how old and disgusting and absolutely embarrassing these are, she immediately hides them behind her back. Her towel nearly slips off because of this - she grabs at it just in time. Laughable, she's sure she looks utterly laughable. And in front of Grace, her former nemesis turned friend, no less. "Yes. They're all I have; I haven't done laundry in so long - "
Why does she feel the constant need to turn all defensive when Grace is in the picture?
"That reminds me, I have to do laundry," Grace says. "But that's not the point, Elizabeth."
"El."
Grace rolls her eyes. "El. What happens on the fifteenth day of camp?"
Something clicks in El's head. Grace is in a bikini. Already? "The mid-summer swim meet?"
Mid-summer. Camp's halfway done. El doesn't know whether this day came too fast or not fast enough. On one hand, she feels like her stay at Camp Ashwood has only begun, since only now does her cabinmate not hate her guts. On the other, it feels like forever ago that her mom woke her up, all cheery and bright and not sobbing.
"Very good!" Grace is obviously mocking her, speaking to El as if she was two years old. "So...?"
El frowns. "So?"
A tired sigh escapes from Grace's mouth. "You're going to wear those rags to a swim meet?"
"They're not rags - !"
"They are."
"Whatever. So what should I wear, then, all-knowing Master Grace?"
"I don't know, a swimsuit maybe? And I like that. Call me that forever."
"No thanks. To both of your statements."
"Why?"
El dumps her sportsbra and underwear back into the drawer which they came from behind her back. She tries to keep the redness coming up her neck from rising any higher. "I - I didn't bring a swimsuit?"
Grace raises an eyebrow, message evident: Really.
El's swimsuit is a bright orange one-piece with little dolphins on it. "Yes, really."
"You can borrow one of mine, then," Grace offers.
"No, no, that won't be necessary!" El curses herself for the squeaky voice she's using. "I won't be swimming."
Grace cackles, plugging in her hairdryer. "I won't be either - god knows my hair would be ruined," she says, flicking the hairdryer's switch on and pointing it at her dripping hair. "But that isn't stopping me from putting on a bathing suit."
"Of course it isn't. You actually have a nice body."
Grace flips her head over, drying her head upside down. "That I do, El, but that's because I know I have a nice body."
"What's that supposed to mean?" El slips into another of her large pajama tee shirts as she isn't sure what she's supposed to wear yet.
"How about you choose a swimsuit first?" Grace effortlessly pries a drawer open with her foot, exposing the bright pink array of bikinis.
"Oh, no. No no no." El steps back, shaking her head. "No way."
Grace huffs, flipping her head back over again, her hair cascading down her back in wavy tendrils. "I know you hate pink."
"Very, very much."
Grace rolls her eyes (again) and strides to the drawer. She digs through all the pink until she finds an olive green two-piece swimsuit that isn't quite a bikini. "I'm guessing this is better than what you have?"
Bright orange with little dolphins. "Not that I have anything...but yes."
"This is just a weird and simultaneously great coincidence. And this was from a dark moment in my life, when I didn't recognize the beauty of pink and had significantly smaller boobs ," Grace says. "So this'll fit you just fine."
Is this what Isaac feels like when people insult his penis? El feels a sliver of empathy for him...except not really. She merely snatches the swimsuit from Grace and puts it on under her tee shirt.
It proves to be harder task than El initially thought, since as she's put it on, Grace is finished curling her hair and doing her make-up.
"Take your shirt off," Grace commands, leaning back in her chair.
El's jaw drops. "What? No."
"I need to see how my swimsuit looks."
The shirt comes off begrudgingly. "Happy?"
"I told you. Nice body."
"I'm like a fucking stick," El says, shifting under Grace's intense stare.
"Yeah, you are," Grace says, "but that doesn't mean you don't have a nice fucking body. It's not like I have a layer of fat on my stomach that will not go away. You just have to tell yourself: I have a nice fucking body then you will have a nice fucking body. Don't fight me on this."
"That is possibly the nicest thing you've ever said." El smiles.
"Don't count on that happening very often."
"Of course not." El's smile grows wider, a warm feeling blooming in her chest. Happiness, perhaps? Most likely. Her smile still playing on her lips, El takes her towel and dries her hair. She puts a huge Camp Ashwood tee shirt on (she may or may not have stolen this from a random pile of clothes in the laundry shed) and ties her hair up, still wet.
"No you're not," Grace says in horror and El's hair tie is tugged off, her hair landing in tangles on her face. "That explains it."
"Explains what?" El sweeps the hair away from her face. (She already knows what Grace is about to say.)
"That birdsnest you call your hair," and Grace is already running her hands through it, magically untangling the knots that El never could.
Funnily enough, El has said the same thing about her hair countless times. "I can't be assed to do anything to it," she shrugs.
"I can," Grace dives for her hairdryer and a wide-toothed comb. "And I might as well jazz your face up."
"This is seeming a little too chicklit romantic comedy..."
"Don't be ridiculous. It'll be fun!" The comb snags on a knot, nearly ripping a lock of hair off El's head.
"You really don't have to do this!" El yelps.
"I know!" Grace says sarcastically. "That's what makes me so nice."
⌚ 7:19 AM
"Who are you and what have you done with El Thropp?" Finn is the first one that meets El by the lake.
(After she's gotten Cabin A under control when she fetched them at their cabin, that is. They went crazy about her "new look" as they called it, that's for sure. She left them with the other )
El raises an eyebrow, hyperaware that Grace's eyebrow pencil had made it look as pristine as hers. Aside from that, gloopy black mascara is weighing her eyelashes down and sticky shiny lipgloss is smeared on her lips. Her hair has been combed and dried and combed again and straightened and combed yet again and then curled and then combed yet again...again. And El feels pretty because her face is "jazzed up" and her hair is actually curly and not frizzy, but she's also exhausted from sitting still for over half an hour.
"It's just...you've been Grace-ified."
This earns him a push. Bad idea. He's shirtless. "Fuck you."
"You look good, though." He grins. "Gotta give props to Grace."
"Yeah." El doesn't grin back. "Thanks to Grace."
"Whoa, El," Isaac whistles. "Lookin' fine!"
"Jesus Christ," El mutters. "Would you be so kind as to throw yourself in the lake, Isaac, or would you want me to do that?"
"And you sound like Grace," Isaac croons. "Hot damn."
It's the second time El has heard Grace's name in the frame of thirty seconds. She suddenly feels that no one cares about her - she's always attached to Grace, a tail of some sort, dead weight. She shakes it off; it's stupid to think that.
"I'll leave you to that, then," she tells Isaac, her voice harder than she expected.
When she storms off, she hears Isaac say to Finn, "What's with her? Just because she's good looking now, and that's because of make up and hair products, she thinks she's the shit?"
El bites her lip, keeping herself from screaming certain profanities at him, since there are children around. She continues striding away, thinking to herself, If no one thinks I'm the shit, then I might as well.
⌚ 12:21 PM
"Here are the stats so far: six wins for the Ashes and fourteen for the Woods! Good job, everyone, how about we take a lunch break then at one, we'll resume the Camp Ashwood Annual Mid-summer Swim Meet?" Lionel's beaming, sure, but the bags under his eyes give away how tired the old man actually is. Really, how he's out of breath after saying "Camp Ashwood Annual Mid-summer Swim Meet" is enough of a sign,
"You did great, girls," El addresses Cabin A, meaning it. "Even if you know...didn't win anything..."
"Can you blame us? They're tiring us out!" Sarah, the smallest in the group, complains.
"Relay? More like relay freaking unfair!" Bianca fumes.
"That's actually pretty good," El says. Before more complains shoot in El's direction, she smiles wider. "How about you have some lunch first, huh? Sound good?"
"I am pretty hungry," Alex grumbles at the same time her stomach does too.
"You're surprisingly calm today." Bianca raises her eyebrows at El when the rest of Cabin A are heading to the Campfeteria. "What happened...aside from this whole makeover thing?"
"Nothing, you idiot," El insists. "Now get some lunch so - so you'll win!"
Bianca rolls her eyes, ruffling her short hair. "Okay, sure, Counselor El."
"Took you long enough to give me the respect I deserve."
Bianca sticks her tongue out at El then runs to follow the rest of her cabinmates. El's about to proceed to the Campfeteria as well, but that's until she hears Grace call her: "El! Over here!"
She turns around to see a huge bright blue picnic blanket laid out by the lake, five baskets lined up along the center, and nine counselors sitting on either side of the baskets. El's legs are aching to run in the other direction immediately but her brain insists she do otherwise.
"Hi," she greets quietly upon sitting between Louise and Will, directly across a basket with club sandwiches inside. Vaguely aware of Isaac staring daggers at her and Grace observing her closely, El keeps her eyes on her lap.
"Hello," Will replies slowly. "How's it going?"
"Great!" El digs into the basket in front of her rather ferociously. "I'm great!"
"Angry isn't a very good look on you, El," Isaac barks.
"Then what is?" she barks back and whatever trace of calm and joy she'd acquired that morning drains out of her body. "Make-up and curled hair? Quiet and smiling and submissive? Lingerie? How about I just flash my boobs, huh? Would that be a good look? Would that satisfy you, sir? That seems to be what society wants from me."
"Damn it, why do you have to always make it about that?"
By now, all the chatter among the counselors has stopped, their attention focused towards the showdown between El and Isaac. What's worse is that she doesn't even know what's gotten her so riled up all of a sudden; sure, she's kinda pissed about how she's basically perceived as Grace's lapdog, and of course Isaac's being a dick as usual. And maybe those quiet thoughts about her mother at the back of her mind were the clincher.
Okay, it turns out she actually does know why she's riled up.
She just doesn't know why she's this riled up.
"About what, Isaac? Sexism? Misogyny? God, educate yourself and maybe I won't have to make everything about that."
Luke murmurs something that sounds like "ooh, burn" which earns him a slap from both Jason and Sky.
"Educate myself? I'm plenty educated, thank. You. Very. Much."
El rolls her eyes and clutches at Louise's wrist, asking her silently to hold El back before she punches the boy. "I'm glad to know that," she forces out. "Good for you. Getting an education. You deserve a round of applause!"
"I'd hit you right now if you weren't a girl."
"God-fucking-damn, you shouldn't hit me anyway! Regardless of gender, surprise, surprise. You shouldn't hit anyone. That's just plain fucking courtesy. The only thing keeping me from punching you."
Isaac raises an eyebrow, smirk on his lips teasing El. "Like you could take me."
"Wanna bet?" El fumes. She's about to get up - fortunately, Louise got her silent message.
"Okay, we're stopping this," Louise says, her turquoise hair the only thing El can see when she tackles her to the picnic blanket.
"Oh no, Louise, you better not do that," even Isaac's voice is smirking, "I can just feel the envy radiating from someone."
"Shut the hell up, Isaac," Louise says, already dragging El away from the chaos. (The chaos, of course, being Isaac and his smirks and his voice and his smirking voice.)
⌚ 1:27 PM
It's been approximately half an hour since El's eyes were last dry. Grace's mascara is staining her cheeks dark and the sounds escaping from her throat are not human. Louise proves to be just as good as Will at that whole back-rubbing thing, pairing her circular strokes with sweet words, advising El don't listen to him, he's stupid, you were right, shhh, calm down. Grace is there, too - she followed them to the pier, where their legs are hanging off now, bringing three sandwiches. Grace agrees with everything Louise is telling El, resulting in a pink-cheeked Louise.
(El kind of figured it works that way. Why, though, she's still trying to fathom.)
El never was a sincere crier. Tears would always be flowing, but they would be paired with sarcastic, bitter words and a wicked smile instead of a frown. "Good thing he didn't even pull out the period card," she hiccups, wiping her tears away, which really only spreads the mascara trail further across her face. "I would've stuffed his ass with my tampon."
"You're still on your period?" Louise says. "Oh, honey." She stops rubbing El's back to wrap her arms around her, keeping El's head at the crook of her neck. El takes a shaky breath, Louise's warmth and flowery scent enveloping her.
"He has no idea what you're going through," Grace says after swallowing a bite of a sandwich. Her eyes are brimming with worry, but that's probably because her precious mascara has gone to waste.
Neither do you, a voice in El's head retorts.
Wait, no. El shouldn't be thinking about Grace this way. It's unfair to her when she's been nothing but nice to El (for the past day or two...she doesn't count the lifetime before that).
"And you do?" Louise raises an eyebrow at Grace, her grip on El tighter.
"Yes," Grace says simply. She shoots El a pointed glance.
"Really?" Louise asks. "I'm guessing you gave her a makeover because of what she's going through?"
"What does that have to do anything?" Grace says and her voice has gotten a bit more shrill. "It made her feel better!"
"You think make-up would - would help her in whatever she's going through?" Louise's voice has, too.
"First of all, Lou, you have no idea what the fuck El is going through. Second, remember the time I gave you a makeover? Tell me that didn't help you through the shit you experienced."
"A makeover? Is that what you call dyeing my hair bright green? Making my lips as pink as yours? Changing me to satisfy your standards?"
"Pink goes good with green!"
El grits her teeth, getting more and more apprehensive the shriller Grace's and Louise's voices get. "Hey!" she yells, prying herself from Louise.
The two freeze mid-scream.
El presses a hand to her cheek, less than shocked that it comes off covered in black. "You two," her eyes flit between them, "don't know what I'm going through." Because I don't, either. "And I don't know what the hell you both went through. I don't think I want to know. I don't think you want me to know."
Louise pales at this slightly.
"You're friends." El chokes at the word. "So act like fucking friends."
Grace glares at Louise, bites her lip, and then puts on a neutral face. "Okay, then. How about we clean you up, El?" she claws at El's arm, tugging her fiercely to stand up. El almost falls into the lake.
"I'll - I'll help you out with that," Louise mutters, rising with them and tucking her arm at El's elbow. She mouths an "I'm sorry" to Grace.
Grace nods.
El smiles, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach.
⌚ 4:16 PM
"You know, El," Jason says, head emerging from the water, "you really haven't shown us what's under that ugly tee shirt yet."
"I'd call you a pervert but you're capital G-A-Y." Luke splashes at him. They both end up chortling on the water.
From Finn's boat, S.S. Taylor, El's lips quirk slightly. That's what cute relationships do to her, she guesses. Weirdly enough, she doesn't feel jealous of Luke and Jason, like she usually would when seeing two people who are cute together and aren't afraid to flaunt it. (She's not naming anyone.) No, she yearns for what they have, even if they don't admit that they have something.
El reminds herself she kind of said she swore off men for the entirety of her college life.
"I'm taking that adorable lil' smile of yours as a yes." Jason raises both his eyebrows.
"God." El rolls her eyes. She drops the smile.
Lionel blows his whistle yet again, signaling the end of another relay race. Honestly, El's done keeping track of what's happening on the other side of the lake - she is only met with disappointment and pitying tired-old-man images. This makes her sound heartless and ignorant, but if anyone was paying attention...she's like this when her hormones are raging.
Instead, she focuses on what's happening in close proximity to her - eight counselors in the water, looking like they're having a blast. The ninth, Finn, on his boat, rowing around with El. She feels slightly sick as the water is slightly more agitated than usual because of the aforementioned counselors in the water. Finn's wet, too though, having taken a short dip in the water and now El is trying her hardest not to stare at him...and his abs.
Really? His abs? El is pathetic, isn't she?
Isaac grins at her and she gives him a small wag of the head.
He apologized earlier - for everything, he claims - and El accepted it, figuring he legitimately didn't know he was this way, and she could probably educate him.
Still, she's on the fence about this. She doubts he'll be any less of a dick slash douchebag slash fuckboy anytime soon.
"You should swim." Finn elbows her and stops rowing.
"I don't swim."
"You also said you don't like boats but here we are."
"I hate boats slightly less than I hate swimming." This isn't true. El actually loves to swim, but only when she's alone and covered up. Even back when she was a camper, she'd sneak out past curfew just to swim around in the lake with no one else there. No girls who tried to impress boys with their tacky swim suits. No boys who tried to impress girls with their scrawny torsos. Just El and the water.
"And Grace said she doesn't swim, too..." he trails off, gesturing to the pink bikini-clad figure perched atop a - you guessed it - pink inner tube. As far as El is concerned, objectively, Grace has a legitimately nice fucking body, whether or not she knows she has a nice fucking body. Where El is flatness, Grace is curves and she should stop thinking about this now before she gets jealous. Again.
It doesn't help, either, that the rest of the counselors are way more attractive than El ever will be. Her mother had to pick the summer camp with the hot counselors, didn't she?
"I don't know, Finnegan, maybe Grace and I are different people," El snaps.
His expression turns solemn at once. "Is this what you're pissed about?"
"I'm not pissed."
Finn rolls his eyes. "Of course you aren't. Now tell me, are you pissed because of this?"
"Because of what, exactly?" A taunt.
"...Grace?"
El just looks at him, her eyes telling him to continue. She disregards the lump that suddenly appears in her throat.
"Are you jealous of Grace?"
"No."
"God," Finn shakes his head. His foot grazes hers. "Can you tell me the truth for once? Since you can't seem to do that for me."
"Are you accusing me of being a liar? Really, Finn?" A threat.
It's a good thing Finn is smart and backs off, or he might have gotten hit upside the head with an oar. He sighs. "So, picking up where Jason left off..."
El raises her eyebrow at the very unsubtle subject change. "Ew."
"Get in the water, El! It's great!" Jason says, holding Will in a full-Nelson while Luke gives him a wet willy.
It does look fun, El decides. But body. But fun. But body. But friends. But body. But swimming. But body.
"Just do it," Finn whispers to her, barely a few inches from her. El's breath hitches in her throat.
She sighs and fumbles with the hem of her shirt. "I'm on my period!" she squeaks triumphantly. "I can't swim!"
"Please," Mari calls from a few feet away, floating on her back. "You have a tampon on. And your period stops when you're in the water."
"God, are we talking about periods now?" Isaac groans and climbs onto S.S. Taylor, dripping wet.
"Isaac," Finn says in a warning tone, sounding too much like a dad for El's taste.
"Right. Periods are fun!" Isaac exclaims with mock enthusiasm, nudging El for good measure. "Blood coming out of your vagina because you aren't pregnant! Great!"
El's eyes widen. A small giggle escapes from her lips before she can stop it. El does not giggle when sober. "Well this just took a gross turn," she says.
"I think you better escape. And get into the water. And swim." Finn wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
"Why do you want me to swim so bad?"
"I don't want you to swim so bad," he replies. "You want to swim so bad. You've had that look the entire day."
"What? The I-want-to-swim-so-bad-look?"
"Exactly."
El rolls her eyes. Finn isn't far from the truth. She actually does really want to swim so bad. The water reflects the blue sky above, fluffy clouds dancing on the surface. As Finn rows around, the water ripples beneath the boat and calls for El to get in you know you want to feel fresh and cool. El plays with the hem of her shirt some more, itching now to jump into the water.
"Is that my shirt?" Isaac asks El, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"I don't know," she says honestly.
"I think it's mine," he insists. "Give it back."
"This is totally a ploy to - " El rolls her eyes. "Ah, fuck it." And in one swift move, she pulls of Isaac's shirt and puts the bundled up thing into his open palm.
Isaac's eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. "I - uh - thanks?" His gaze is trained way lower than El's eyes.
This earns another eyeroll on El's part. "You're welcome. Fuckboy." She stands up and with barely any time to be surprised at the sudden draft that meets her torso, she jumps into the water, about to flip the boat over.
Finn lets out a little wolf whistle, at which El flips him the bird.
Already, whatever second thoughts she's had about swimming trickle out of her mind (that must have been a pun) because the feeling of weightlessness that overcomes her as she submerges herself in the cold lakewater drowns everything else out (that was definitely a pun). El holds her breath and forgets.
⌚ 10:33 PM
"You seemed a bit...off today," Grace says as she squeezes her hair dry.
She and El are settling in for bed now, after an exhausting day of being soaking wet, be it in sweat or tears or lakewater. Grace has just taken her second bath of the day, letting a strawberry scent waft through the cabin. El just skipped that since she really can't be assed to clean herself and so what if she smells fishy (despite there being no fish in Lake Ashwood)? She's exhausted.
"Off how?" El asks.
"Let's see..." Grace switches her pink towel for an even pinker nightgown. "You actually let me fix you up - "
" - against my will - "
" - and you were crazy bipolar; like, one minute you were happy, then angry, then sad, then happy again? And, you didn't give a shit when the Woods won the swim meet which, by the way, added fifty points to their score...so the Ashes are kind of losing. And you hate losing."
"That's off?" El holds out Grace's olive green two-piece.
"Keep it."
"I - what?"
"I clearly don't need it," Grace snorts, gesturing vaguely to the drawer full of her pink swimwear. "And it suits you," she adds as an afterthought.
El wants to protest but Grace's certain tone prevents her from doing so. She keeps the still damp two-piece hanging in her closet and gets in bed. "It...uh - thanks."
"That sounds more like you!" Grace exclaims all of a sudden. "Where did this El go? The one who's all independent and hates me?"
"I don't hate you - "
Grace waves her off. "Tell me." Then Grace is on the bottom bunk, backing El into her pillow.
El is flustered, somehow, and she's rarely flustered. Probably just confused is what she is. Confused at why Grace has taken sudden interest in her. That's it. "What are your dreams like?" El blurts out. This is when she realizes: this is why she's been off today.
Grace looks shocked for only the smallest fraction of a second before she sighs and settles herself beside El. "Why do you want to know?" She doesn't sound defensive per se, just...unsure.
"It's...for science."
Grace scoffs. "It's pretty graphic," she admits. "The dreams - nightmares, more like - they, uh, they vary usually, but they always end the same way. Like last night, my mom and I were talking, blah blah blah, then my dad came in and his mouth opened inhumanly wide, and he spewed out all this shit; purses and shoes and make-up and dresses and we start drowning. But he took my mom and chained her to some kind of post? And he gave her a gun. I think we know where this went. And - and another woman appeared out of nowhere and she and my dad started making out...gross. So picture this: I was drowning in luxury, my dad was making out with a tramp and my mom had to watch both of these happening. Obviously she wouldn't have been able to take it, so, she...you know..."
"I get it," El breathes. "Wow. That's, um - "
"Fucked up," Grace says. "I know. I can be...pretty fucked up."
"So can I," and El describes what her dream had been, also adding an explanation as to why she's not really herself.
"I feel like that's my fault," Grace says sheepishly.
"Don't worry about it." But El has been worrying about it, whether or not she thinks directly about the blood tears.
"I should be telling you that. Whatever conclusions you're arriving at about your mom...don't think about them."
El bites her lip instead of slapping herself, as that's what she wants to do, when she realizes Grace has it figured out even sooner than she has. El is a natural pessimist. Of course she'd think of the worst things possible happening to her mother, including but not limited to screaming, guns, and blood tears.
Blood tears.
"Yeah." El gulps.
Now, Grace surprises El even more than she has the entire day, taking El's head between her soft hands and planting a light kiss on her forehead. El hates herself for being jealous of the good-looking person who's being way too nice to her.
"Thanks," she chokes out. Blinks tears away. "Thank you."
Grace bows her head, a sad, shaky smile on her lips, her eyes glistening with what may also be tears and concern. She releases El and climbs up to top bunk. "Good night, El. Good luck with your dreams."
El lets out a tired laugh. "Funny." Then, "You, too. Good luck."
_______________________________________________
a/n: lol this got a lot more feelsy than i expected and i am trash bUT IVE BEEN WRITING THESE SUPER FAST HAVENT I but not fast enough for camp nano goddamn
the banner (oN TOP WTF WATTPAD) is made by the ever so lovely @flowergardens aka gaia aka earth goddess
dedicated to ayla bC I LOVE HER COMMENTS
((comment cOMMENT COMMENT I WILL LOVE U FOREVER))