Olivia and Hailey are sitting across the island from Hannah and me, with Rowena on the end. We all focus on them, Hannah picking up her mug and resting her elbows on the counter to get comfortable. She shifts just enough that our arms are almost touching.
“As your codirectors for all things publicity and marketing related,” Olivia says, glancing at Hailey, “we feel like it’s time to up the social media game of the festival committee by making an Instagram account.”
“Which we may or may not have already created,” Hailey adds, pretending to look guilty by glancing everywhere but at me for a moment. Then, she explains, “We think it’ll be a great way to get the attention of kids at school who aren’t, like, tuned in to school news, you know? Like, they might not care about the flyers or listen to the announcements—I mean, I ignore that stuff—but we can follow students from the account, and ideally, they’ll follow us back. It’ll be a fun way to engage with our classmates and get everyone hyped for the festival.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” I say, relieved and elated. I honestly didn’t have any expectations for the field hockey team’s involvement in the committee beyond them at least being extra hands when it came time to decorate, their primary function being as a placeholder to have enough students to keep the committee active. But this… goes above and beyond.
“If we get the word out on social media, I think we could have a bigger turnout this year,” I admit.
“Maybe even thebiggestturnout,” Olivia points out, all smiles.
“Well, if you’re on board,” Hailey says, looking between Hannah and me, “we think a picture of our copresidents would make a great post.”
“You mean… a picture of us, like, together?” I ask, self-conscious. My hair is thrown up into loose, frizzy twists, I have no makeup on, and I’m wearing a red sweater, which is undoubtedly washing out my complexion… and in all the time that we spent together at Camp Refuge, Hannah and I never took any pictures together.
And yeah, this picture wouldn’t necessarily capture what we are… But it would still be a picture.
“Yeah, is that cool?” Olivia asks, already holding her phone up.
“As long as you don’t mind that I look like a mess,” I say sheepishly.
“Oh my God, Clarity. You know you’re, like, gorgeous, right?” Rowena asks, reaching over to shake my shoulder like she’s shaking sense into me.
I can’t help but blush a little, from the compliment and because of all the attention.
“Clarity, you always look amazing,” Hannah says beside me, her voice soft. “Besides, people will be torn between your beauty and my red-ass face.”
“Isn’t your face always red?” I ask, looking at her closer.
“OH! Burn,” Hailey erupts, laughing.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” I rush to say when Hannah covers her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. I just mean, like, there’s always these, uh, undertones.”
Hannah pulls her hands away from her face, thankfully laughing and not hiding in embarrassment.
“Well, right now, my face is red because of Rowena,” Hannah says, pointing a finger at her dramatically. “It’s her fault.”
“Oh, come on—”
“No, tell our dear president what you did to me,” Hannah demands, everyone cracking up.
Even though I don’t know what happened, I find myself cracking up too. Maybe it’s the energy in the room, the way that even though they’re all on a team together and I’m not, they still include me. They make mefeelincluded… which is more than Kristen has been doing lately.
Although I can’t say I’ve tried as hard to include her in this new version of my life either. Since camp, we haven’t texted each other as much, and I didn’t ask her if she wanted to be on the festival committee; I didn’t give her a chance to help me save it.
And here I am on a Saturday, hanging out with a group of girls who, before this year—before Hannah—wouldn’t have glanced my way.
For a second, I wonder if this is wrong, me being here. While I could’ve invited Kristen, it’s not like she doesn’t do stuff without me. Plus, her overprotectiveness about the field hockey team joining the committee has turned rude. I wouldn’t want to invite her only to give her more material for mean comments. The field hockey team aren’t random girls she can judge. They’re my friends.
And even though I’m not out to the team, and I have nodesire to be out to them, knowing that they accept Hannah and Rowena and the other teammates who are gay makes me feel less on edge, less like Ihaveto hide.
I listen as Rowena confesses to not reading the ingredients of a face mask that she encouraged Hannah to use during their sleepover last night, which made her break out and has left her face red.
Hannah and I lean closer so that Olivia can take the picture. I try and fail to ignore her warmth, the feeling of her arm wrapped around my back, and the faint smell of her shampoo trying to tease my mind into a flashback of my hands tangled in her hair at the bottom of her stairs yesterday.
“You guys are so cute,” Olivia says, holding her phone out so we can approve the pic.
“We are,” I murmur.