“… paddle shaft even with the keel of the boat…”
You want to make a joke about Silas’s “paddle shaft,” but you don’t know Fran very well yet, and you’re not sure how she’ll react to your fifth-grade sense of humor. She might think you’re harassing her. So instead, you look away and try to speak in a completely neutral voice, saying:
“So maybe I could paddle on this side if you just want to—”
Fran hocks something up and spits it into the lake, which you guess is her response to your suggestion. Then she automatically switches to the other side and stabs her paddle in the water like a murder weapon.
“So,” she says, “what’s with you two anyway?”
She puts her hood back up and doesn’t turn around. Her sweatshirt of choice today is jet black, doubling down on the grim-reaper look, a raised paddle her proxy scythe.
“What?” you say. “Who?”
But she ignores you completely.
“I mean, I get it,” she says. “I thinkImight already be in love with her. The hair alone is grounds. But she hasn’t even looked at me, so I’m guessing she’s not into girls. Or she doesn’t know she’s into girls yet, and I love myself so I will not be taking on that project.”
“Are you talking about Diana?” you ask.
“Um, yeah,” she says, splashing up some water with her paddle. “You guys can’t go thirty seconds without looking at each other. I’m not going to turn around, but you’re probably doing it right now.”
You’re quiet at this. She stops paddling and finally looks at you over her shoulder. There must be a chastened expression on your face, because her voice instantly changes.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’m not great at small talk. We don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to. I guess I’m just jealous you guys are so close already.”
Because she’s not paddling and you are, the canoe is now going sideways.
“Case! Fran!” yells Silas. “Synchronize! C’mon!”
You both plunge your paddles back in the water, on the same side at first, then you alternate again. You look around for the others, but you’re all scattered across the lake now. Diana and Troy are easily forty feet behind you, though Troy actually appears to be paddling, albeit kind of half-heartedly.
“It’s not what you think,” you say.
You’re about to add more, to tell her about Sean. It wouldn’t be hard. The words are so simple.
She dated my brother. He died.
But it’s more complicated than that, so nothing comes out. Then an awkward-enough pause opens up that you feel compelled to fill it.
“She actually kind of hates me right now.”
The wordhatelodges in your throat, and you have to swallow it down.
“Psssht,” says Fran. “That’s no big deal.”
She’s rowing faster now, and it’s hard to keep up.
“What do you mean?”
“Hate you can work with,” she says. “Hate means they care. Indifference is what you have to worry about, my gangly friend. And that’s whatI’mgetting from our lady at present. If she could look through me, she would. I would trade places with you in a minute! Hate is… that’s a possibility.”
You turn around again, and Diana’s canoe has made up some ground. She and Troy are actually announcing their sides out loud.
“Left. Right. Left. Right.”
“I know her. From before,” you say.
“I suspected,” says Fran. “Were you guys close?”
