“And the flirting and the sexual tension and the adorableness?” she asks coyly.
“Yes,” I happily agree. “I’m down with that.”
“Yeah, we’ll see if that’s all it is.” She tosses her head back and soaks her hair in the lake. “Still, you guys are coming by the farm. That’s decided.”
“What would I do with all that produce?”
“Hello? You’re a cook. You’ll cook shit up!”
I laugh. “I’m hardly a cook.”
“Maybe you’re in the egg-and-chicken stage, but I already know you’re a food lover, and you’ll become a home cook, if nothing else. Unless you have an egg fetish? Which would be weird.”
“No, I do not have an egg fetish. It seemed a basic place to start. To learn.” Now, it’s my turn to go silent for a beat. “But I’d like to. Have skills, you know? So, I’m trying with some cooking. Some house stuff. I’m doing as much research and studying as I can. I want to do something right. Besides chicken.”
She clears her throat. “We’ve all heard about the chicken.”
My groan is loud. “Yeah, I know. I’m humiliated. I’ve been teased enough about that. Those butchers will never forget me.”
“What? No. I mean, about the chicken salad that you served. Danny and Paul mentioned it to a few people, and now, everyone in town wants your recipe.” Her voice softens. “Callie, wait. You think people arelaughingat you? Not at all! They’ve been laughing at our butchers, who didn’t know what you were talking about. And they were laughing at themselves for not knowing about thatspatchcock chickenterm. Nobody meant to make you feel badly. Truly.”
“So, I can go back there?” I ask hesitantly. “I haven’t branded myself as a freak in my hometown?”
“You’re fine. Everyone is so proud of you for coming back to Wake. Especially considering how you had to leave.” She pauses. “Or were forced to leave. I know that I wasn’t here then, but I’ve heard.”
In order to hide my stupid, gleaming smile, I roll off the floatie and push myself underwater, and despite the jarring cold, I swim.
I hold my breath and swim a lap and back. And then I stop and sit in this glorious lake. I don’t resist when my body wants to struggle, when my lungs burn, until I sink.
Lake water doesn’t push back the way ocean water does. No salt water or waves to force you to float. It’s so damn calm right now, and I love this feeling. When I’m ready, when I’m fully deficient of air, I let natural buoyancy carry me to the surface.
“It’s a Jamie Oliver recipe that I adapted,” I answer while panting.
Mary Ann’s arms are around my rib cage, hugging me as I paddle.
“The chicken. I’ll send you a link. The recipe.” My thoughts are so hazy. “But you’ll like it.”
“Shit, I thought you were drowning for a sec there.” She hugs me harder before letting go.
“Not at all,” I reassure her through my ragged gasps. I crawl happily toward my sloth floatie and lift myself up. “The total opposite. I couldn’t feel more alive.” Every breath feels brilliant and perfect. Clean. I cannot get enough. “I want to float more. Talk more.”
“I do too.” She slowly spins three times. “I think we both need to talk. So, talk, girl. Go first.”
So, I do. I tell her about my dad, my mom, and my sister. How my sister makes crazy money, posting about makeup, viral products, and about her fake face, fake hair, fake life. About growing up in LA. About my repeated failures, about my nothingness. About how I’m here in Wake as a designated nobody. Someone to do a job that anyone could. And how it’s maybe a way for my mom to get rid of me for the time being. And how I’m starting to think that I could make it about more.
Mary Ann drifts for a bit and clearly thinks before she replies. “The only thing that matters is whatyouthink of yourself. Not what your mom thinks of you.”
“You’re right.” And she is. I can logically see this now, maybe even believe it.
After a long period of silence, she pivots to face me, waves a hand, and sends me a look that makes me relax. “But what I care about most right now is why you asked me to pick up such awesome bread. Is there a meal coming my way? Should we un-float at some point?”
“Yes, and yes, we should. There might be a snack in the near future,” I acknowledge. “Danny basically dared me without knowing it, and so now, I have to win. And you guys are victims to that challenge. Apologies in advance.”
She scoots us toward the dock. “I’m Team Callie. No doubt.”
“And I’m Team Mary Ann.”
It’s a good thing that my dad taught me how to blow a loud whistle with two fingers because I use it now and get the boys to look our way. Danny doesn’t stop hitting tile, but he sees me. And he nudges his friend hard until Slowski also stops.
