sebastian
The quarry is as vibrant as it always is, its practically tropical cerulean waters out of place next to the forest green foliage surrounding it. There's not a cloud in the sky today, so there's no avoiding the harsh summer sun. The warning sign has been knocked down on its front side, probably by last night's storm, but it's not as if you can forget the warnings that are currently laying face down against the earth.
Unless you're Harris, that is.
"Okay, I wanna go swim in there so bad," he says, peering down over the cliff's edge. It's a little more of a drop than the Lake Franz edge, but it's not any more intimidating than a public pool high dive.
Still, diving into toxic waters is an absolute no.
"Harris."
"What?"
"Absolutely not."
He's still shirtless, his red-and-white-striped towel draped over his shoulders. His hair is pushed up against his forehead, and his cheekbones have turned red in the summer sun. With his skin all tan and glistening like that—not to mention some tan and glistening abs, oh lord—I'm caught a little speechless for a second.
Harris notices. Because, of course he does. "What?" he asks, his smile lopsided.
"Nothing." I want to date this boy. I hate myself.
"Sure." He stretches, flexing his arms above his head. Fuck. He knows what he's doing. He's actually the worst. "You scared to go for a little dip in Wetspring Quarry?"
I'm sorry, but he's standing right next to the overturned sign. Has he seriously forgotten the potential consequences of a little dip in Wetspring? Stupid debate team juniors are one thing. Elana Doorsey is one thing. Harris? Harris should know better.
"Harris, absolutely not," I tell him, hoping I sound a little more self-assured than I feel. There's this niggling idea that somehow, it could be fun. But it's got to be too dangerous for us to actually do it. There is a sign for a reason. "You know what could happen. Can you imagine explaining to your mom that you caught some kind of infection thing from the lake?"
Harris shrugs it off. "I'll work it out. C'mon. C'mon, it looks so nice and cool and fuuun. Other people have done it." He looks legitimately excited, but I don't care. I am not going swimming in this god-forsaken quarry. What if I die? What if I jump in and die?
"Besides," Harris continues, "if it's soooo toxic, then what are we going to catch from it?"
"What?"
"Like, if it's too toxic, then how can any kind of bacteria thing survive in there?"
"Harris. No. What? No. That is so inherently flawed. Like, I think that might be the stupidest argument I've ever heard. Ever. And not just on one level, on multiple." Honestly, I cannot believe that he thinks that this would be a good idea. What on earth has gotten into him?
Harris pouts. "But it looks so summer."
"'It looks so summer' is not reason enough for me to go in."
"People go in all the time, and no one has died," he argues. "Some of the track guys went after graduation. A few of them even skinny-dipped. Look at us! We're fully clothed. We're even better off than they are, and they were fine!"
The debate kids from last night. The smiles in their videos. The laughter. The sheer enjoyment. But no. Nope. I can't let myself get caught up in the aesthetics of jumping into a gorgeous yet disgusting pit of standing water. "Harris. It feels kinda stupid."
"Just for a few minutes. To cool off. It's so hot today."
He's not wrong. The summer heat is scalding, even with droplets of lake water still clinging to my skin. I'm sure my shoulders are already starting to burn. It's going to be a rough one for sure.
"Harris, I—"
"Pleeeaaase?"
"Oh my god, are you five years old? What has gotten into you?"
He's still smiling. "It's okay. Just five minutes, Seb. And then maybe we could go home and...."
"Shower together?" The idea of the quarry disgusts me so much, to the point that even a shower with Harris doesn't sound appealing.
"Your idea, not mine." And then he turns, races towards the edge, and jumps.
Fucking godammit. Are you kidding me?
I'm right behind him, peering off the edge of the ledge to make sure he resurfaces. The water bubbles up where he landed, foaming up and sending waves crashing out in a circle around him. His head breaks the surface. He splutters for a moment, coughing up quarry water. He wipes excess water away from his closed eyes with one hand, then pushing back his hair. And, of course, he's laughing.
"It feels amazing!" he shouts up. "Come on!"
"Me finishing your sentence was NOT a yes, Harris!"
"Oh, come on. Pleeeaaaase?"
He's treading water, some fifteen, eighteenish feet beneath me. His smile is wide and infectious, and I hate that he's down there in the quarry, because there's a small part of me that does want to try it, just once, but common sense is telling me not to even dare.
"It's warmer than the lake!" he promises. "Just a few minutes. So we can say we did this together."
I don't know why, but that last part sells me. This stupid, stupid boy and his stupid, stupid, stupid ideas. He's going to be the death of me.
"FINE. Move your flat ass out of my way."
"My ass is bigger than yours, and we both know it." But he obliges me, swimming backward to give me space.
I take a few deep breaths. It's fine. It'll be just a few minutes. No worries. No worries at all. I started off the summer—and this whole thing with Harris—by jumping off a cliff impromptu, just to get out of my own head. This? This is nothing.
And look. He's down there waiting for me. It'll be just a few minutes. Nothing more.
Before I can talk myself out of it, my legs are moving, and the wind is whistling through my wet hair. I hold my body stick-straight and brace for impact.
The quarry water is different than the lake water. As I kick up to the surface, a little too scared to see how deep the quarry goes, the warmth of the water surprises me. I think it's more than being a little more adjusted thanks to the dip in the lake—this water is legitimately warmer.
I breach the surface and try to wipe the water off my face before inhaling. The same goes for my eyes, then my hair. I'm holding my chin back as I tread the water, suddenly terrified I'm going to accidentally ingest something that I shouldn't.
"You did it!" Harris says, gliding towards me with smooth free-style strokes.
"Yeah, I did it," I tell him, even though my stomach is turning. "Can we get out now?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course." He looks a little apologetic. "Sorry. I didn't want to.... I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. Or just jumped like that."
"Well that was a quick introspection turn-around."
His smile is small and thin. "You just look really uncomfortable. I'm sorry. Let's go home and wash off."
"Yeah, I'm down."
We're paddling towards the shore, Harris consistently keeping a little ahead of me despite him obviously trying to swim at my snail's pace. "Why'd you do it?" I ask him, chin still way up to try and avoid the quarry water going up my nose.
"Do what? Jump?"
"Yeah." We're nearing the shore now, but I'm terrified my foot is going to scrape one of those cars the warning sign had mentioned. Or an animal carcass. Excrement, even. Oh lord, am I going to die before I even get out of this quarry?
"I dunno. Sorry. Something came over me, and I just, I wanted to do something fun with you. I thought one jump would be ... memorable. Also, the water is pretty nice, you've gotta admit it."
"Yeah." It really is nice, until you think about how there's a massive sign that basically screams at you not to do this exact thing.
My feet touch the edge of the stony beach, the same one I stood on when I was twelve-years-old and measured the quarry's pH levels with Saanvi. I remember the value now—it was a shocking 10.9, even back then. I'm terrified we're swimming through liquid ammonia right now, something I'm not sure Harris even realizes.
Fuck, why did I let him jump in here? Ew ew ew ew. We are so going to die. Ew ew ew ew ew ew, absolutely fucking disgusting.
"Okay, we gotta go rinse off, asap" I tell him. "Can you smell that?"
Harris gives me a quizzical look. "No?"
"It's the smell of impending doom, because I let you talk me into diving into incredibly toxic water. So, let's go, let's go."
He looks up to the cliff. "What about our towels?"
Ugh. "Fuck. Yeah, let's go grab them." Shit shit shit. My body feels disgusting. I'm going to die. We're going to die. Why did we dive into that fucking quarry?
"Here, don't worry about it," Harris says. "I'll run the long way and grab our stuff. You head back to the truck, okay?"
I try to breathe normally, but oh my god. This was such a stupid risky teen thing. I do not partake in stupid risky teen things. I hate stupid risky teen things. They are literally the bane of my existence.
"Okay, sure. Thanks."
I watch Harris race off along the stony beach, somehow not flinching at the sharp rocks likely cutting into his feet. Oh my gosh, I hope he doesn't get quarry water into a cut. Why did we do this? We are so, so, so going to die. Fuck. Like, actually, fuck.
This was a very, very bad idea.