Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

8

Bennett

Fourteen Years Before

Ruby & Bennett are Sixteen Years Old

“Oh, look. A code of conduct. Your sworn enemy.”

I roll my eyes and lightly swipe the back of my knuckles against Ruby’s pointed finger.

She giggles.

“I’m not gonna pick a fight at Honeywood,” I say, flipping to the next page of the booklet. “This is my work. I know better.”

Ruby traces a finger over the picnic tabletop. “Those words are right out of your mom’s mouth.”

“Hey, I’m a rule follower now. New leaf, okay?”

“Doubtful.”

I glance up at Ruby right as she curls her bottom lip in, and I wonder not for the first time if they get a prettier shade of pink every year.

She sticks out her tongue—even pinker.

I like autumn in Honeywood Fun Park. The slight breeze, the look of the trees shaking off their brown and red leaves, the smell of their all-day pancakes with their limited-time apple-flavored syrup. I’m thrilled to finally be filling out new-hire paperwork, but I can’t focus if my best friend keeps distracting me.

Lorelei and Quinn started working at Honeywood last summer, and this fall, I’m finally joining them. I was supposed to apply this past summer, but school took up most of my time. Turns out, not completing homework for every class, except Shop, lands you in summer school. I understand all the concepts; homework is just a waste of time when I could be building stuff instead. Cedar Cliff High curriculum doesn’t agree.

I change the subject. “How was girls’ day with Miranda?”

Ruby tilts her head to the side, tucking a strand of ginger hair behind her ear, showing off a shimmering gold stud.

“Oh, wow,” I say, placing down my pen. “Look at you. Pierced ears.”

“Miranda let me.”

“She’s really going for the Best Mom award, huh?”

“She’s winning.”

I wince. To her credit, Ruby does too.

“Rubes …”

“What? I’m allowed to be mean,” she mumbles, picking off a loose splinter from the picnic table. “She’s the one who left, so …”

Ruby hasn’t seen her mom since last Christmas. Ms. Sullivan was already scarce due to work travel, but once her dad and Miranda tied the knot in an intimate ceremony in Cedar Cliff’s white chapel, I think that was the final tipping point for her to start a completely separate life from her ex-husband. Now, all Ruby receives are postcards or envelopes with free key chains from work conferences her mom attends.

“It’s fine,” Ruby says quickly, giving a weak smile.

I can tell she’s trying to ignore her feelings because if she discusses her mom too much, then her feelings transform to anger, and even though she gets feisty when she’s angry and I kind of like that, I know she hates the feeling. So, when Ruby gets to this point where she can no longer carry her own emotions, I try to shoulder some for her.

“It’s not fine,” I correct. “On the bright side … I guess my mom can finally give you all her old jewelry now. She’ll love that. And they look great!”

I reach up and trace my thumb over the new gold stud. Ruby sucks in a breath.

“Oh, sorry, does that hurt?” I ask.

“No.”

I pull my hand away anyway. Another one of Mom’s lessons is that if someone looks uncomfortable, you don’t keep doing what you’re doing.

“Dad didn’t like them,” Ruby admits.

“No?”

“No, but when Miranda said it was her idea, he was immediately fine with it.”

“Dang,” I say, heaving an exhale. “Rough day, Parrot. We’ve got the mom and dad double-whammy comments.”

“I’m on a roll.”

“What kind of roll?” I offer because I know it’ll lead to a joking bit, and I love her imagination.

“A sushi roll, obviously. With spicy tuna and cucumbers.”

“You are a little spicy sometimes.”

I smile. She returns the gesture before looking out across the grassy lawn. It’s crowded with Honeywood guests enjoying the nice weather on checkered blankets. Even the parents have their fanny packs tossed to the side and shorts rolled up their thighs.

A breeze whips past, brushing a strand of ginger hair across Ruby’s freckled cheek. It catches on her eyelashes, coated in a layer of black mascara, which she started wearing this past summer—a direct influence from Quinn.

While I miss seeing Ruby’s pretty lighter lashes, there’s also something about this new makeup that gives her an intense quality. It’s as if the ferocity she has bottled up inside is getting time to shine.

Her solemn expression falls. “Oh no. Don’t look now.”

“Why?” I follow Ruby’s line of sight, and the hair on my neck immediately stands up. Every bit of calm I have gets sucked right out of me. “Oh. Him.”

Michael is standing across the midway, holding up his hand in a wave.

Ruby, her face now bright red, waves back. I do not.

Mikey has developed a rhythm when he sees us together. He’ll toss a vicious glare at me, narrow-eyed, and then, like a light switch, he stares at my best friend with some half-raised smile that makes him look like Elvis. Or one of Honeywood’s broken animatronics with a twitching eye and hanging jaw.

It’s absurd.

But Ruby, with her bitten bottom lip, falls for it every time.

Every. Single. Time.

What the hell is the appeal?

Michael is tall, but so am I.

He has black hair, but so do I.

So do I.

It’s not like I want Ruby looking at me or anything. She’s my best friend. But when she stares at Michael like his eyes have the answers to the universe, I want to push him all over again. And I might, too, if I knew my mom wouldn’t ground me for three months afterward, like she had the last time.

Ruby leans her chin on her freckled knees again. Like little wisps of thoughts flow from her mind to mine, I can tell she’s dreaming about his hair or eyes or whatever other heartthrob thing she thinks about.

Why Michael, of all people?

If it were anyone else, I don’t think I’d care. It’s the fact that it’s Michael.

Quinn told us her side of the story when Michael stole her diary in the middle of the hallway. Apparently, Landon—Lorelei’s brother—wasn’t any better in the moment even if he did try to defend her in Shop class. Ruby, being a good friend, listened to Quinn with agreeable nods. But I think something about that story only captivated her more. Michael was no longer the football star, but the bad boy.

But I was the one who got detention, so aren’t I bad too?

I flip open my employee booklet again.

No, I don’t want to be the bad boy. Who cares if my best friend stares at me? I sure don’t.

A hand slaps on the table, and we both jump.

“God, are you almost done with the paperwork yet?” Quinn takes a long slurp through her straw. “We’ve already ridden The Grizzly fifty bajillion times today. I need backup to convince Lorelei to ride something else.”

“That last line was way too long,” Lorelei chimes in. They both take a seat on the table—Lorelei on the seat across from me and Quinn climbing cross-legged on the tabletop. “You know, I think if they had a different queue system …”

Quinn snorts. “Pitch it to Freddy at the next meeting.”

Apparently, the general manager of Honeywood, Fred Louder—my boss now—is very receptive to suggestions. I just wish I could grow a mustache as thick as his. No dice yet.

Quinn bare-hands a single pancake from her black overalls pocket and rips into it with her teeth. “Whar to nehxt?”

Lorelei laughs, and I would, too, but from the corner of my eye, I see Michael walking past us again.

Okay, seriously, is he a stalker or something?

My eyes flash to Ruby, who has already clocked him.

Quinn’s nose scrunches up. “Gross. Don’t think about him, Rubes. He’s trouble.”

“I heard he broke up with Meghan,” Lorelei says.

“So?” Quinn sneers, tearing off another bite of pancake.

“Well”—curiously, Lorelei’s face reddens—“I heard it was because she didn’t have … y’know.”

Ruby blinks. “Didn’t have what?”

Lorelei quickly points at herself. All of us blink at her. Exhaling, she points at herself again. What’s she pointing at? Her Grizzly T-shirt?

Ruby and I exchange a look.

“Boobs,” Quinn blurts out. “She means boobs, guys.”

“Oh!” Ruby and I chorus together.

Oh.

A ball of energy bounces through me, and my face suddenly feels like it’s on fire.

Boobs.

Quinn barks out a laugh. “Embarrassed, Benny?”

“Ha. No.”

I glance to Ruby again, but she’s not looking back this time. Instead, she’s staring down at her own chest.

Oh.

I forget my friends have boobs. We went to the community pool this past summer, and Quinn and Lorelei wore bikinis, and their boobs were just there, moving and just existing as my friends cannonballed into the pool. Ruby was forced to stay at home to finish her summer reading. But now, as I stare at The Beesting or the amphitheater or the Buzzy the Bear statue—literally anywhere but at my best friend—I wonder what she would look like in a bikini.

I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. There are other girls to imagine. Sarah. Stacey. Sadie. Some other S name.

Ruby doesn’t say anything, but she does cross her arms over herself.

Something is wrong. I know my best friend. I also know she won’t talk about her feelings with anyone but me.

“Hey,” I say, folding my paperwork in half and tucking it into my back pocket. “I could use a break. I bet there’s no line for The Canoodler. Let’s go there.”

“Ugh,” Quinn groans. “That’s a boring ride.”

I knew she’d say that.

“Then, just me and Ruby will go. Right, Rubes?”

Ruby looks like she’s fallen out of a dream, blinking up at me. “Huh? Yeah, sure.”

“Well, I’d like to ride The Grizzly again,” Lorelei says. “Quinn?”

Quinn groans but hops off the picnic table. “Fine, fine. One more time. But that’s it! Then no more. Promise me.”

But Lorelei, in her Grizzly T-shirt, gives a noncommittal, “Mmhmm.”

I snort a laugh.

Yeah, that won’t be their last ride.

Our two groups part ways and, aside from our sneakers hitting the blacktop, it’s silent between Ruby and I. A weird awkwardness that seeps into my bones and fingers. I’m not sure why though.

No, I am.

It’s the thought of boobs.

Is that what Ruby’s thinking about too?

I place my hand on her lower back and lean down. “Everything okay, Rubes?”

“Yep.” The word is quick.

“Bzzt!” I say, making the sound of a game-show buzzer. “Wrong. Try again.”

She tries to fight back a smile and keeps walking with her arms crossed.

“Really,” she says, “I’m fine.”

“I’m very persistent.”

“Bennett.”

“Ruby.”

“I just wanna ride The Canoodler.”

“All right then. And no talking too? Got it.”

“Bennett …”

But I make the motion of zipping my mouth closed and throwing away the key, making her bite her bottom lip to hold back laughter. Though I don’t understand why she won’t just let herself have fun.

We walk past The Bee-fast Stop, past the employee offices, and around the corner to The Canoodler. We quietly wind through the queue line ropes and step into an empty boat. It bobs side to side before the bored operator presses a button, and we roll off the moving platform and into the water.

Our lonely boat is no less quiet, just the lapping of water hitting against the outside. Once we cross into the tunnel, it’s pitch-black, and I can’t see a dang thing, except the occasional glow of a projector on the tunnel walls, displaying excerpts of the Honeywood movie.

There’s a reason this ride has no line. It’s basically a promotional ride for the movie. But it’s always been our favorite. Ruby and I have ridden it so many times that we try to recite the next line before the recorded narrator says it.

But when I mouth the words, In a world … Ruby doesn’t follow along.

Her arms hold tighter over her body.

“Okay, I can’t be quiet,” I plead. “What’s wrong?”

Her shoes squeak in the boat as she adjusts in her seat. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Why?” I laugh. “You tell me everything.”

“Not everything.”

“Yeah, you do.”

She doesn’t respond.

“Rubes—”

“Do you think boob size matters?”

My face grows red hot. I immediately regret asking anything.

I scoot around in my seat, causing the boat to roll side to side in the water. “I … I don’t know.”

“Do you think I’m flat?”

“What?” My voice cracks.

“You know … flat as a board.”

I try to move again, but my sneakers slip loudly against the slick boat floor.

Isshe flat-chested? I’ve always liked Ruby’s figure. I worry, sometimes, she gets a little too small around the waist, but Ruby has never liked food all that much. But I like Ruby, tiny frame and all.

“No,” I say.

“No, as in I’m not flat?”

“No. You’re perfect. Don’t let anyone else tell you different, okay?”

“But … I mean, you like Sarah’s boobs, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really … I mean—”

“She wears low-cut shirts.”

Sarah does, and that little line of cleavage makes my heart race faster, but whenever Ruby smiles at me, I feel the same, so why does it matter whether I like Sarah’s boobs?

I don’t answer Ruby. I kick my feet up on the front of the boat and tongue my cheek.

“Can I tell you something and you promise not to get mad?” Ruby asks.

“I’d never be mad at you.”

“You look mad.”

“It’s too dark to see me.”

“I can feel that you’re mad,” she says.

“I’m just … it doesn’t matter. What’s up?”

My brain is too fuzzy to be mad—too filled with thoughts of how Sarah’s and Ruby’s chests are not the same, but I like how Ruby looks when she lies on my mattress when we play video games. I like how, when the air-conditioning kicks on and she hasn’t gotten up to get a blanket yet, her breasts pucker a little until they form tiny pebbles and—

“I just … I wonder if Michael would ever notice me with … these.”

I shake my head. “What? Michael?!”

“I know,” she whines. “I know you don’t like him. But—”

“Is it his Elvis look?”

“His Elvis look?”

“Yeah. The whole lip thing.”

“I … I don’t know. His lips are nice, I guess.”

My stomach twists. “His lips are gross. Your lips are nice.”

There’s a small silence when I realize what I just said.

“You think my lips are nice?” Ruby whispers, the words almost echoing off the tunnel walls.

I shrug. “Sure.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. They’re … pink.”

“Oh.”

I clear my throat. This is too weird. And I don’t like when my stomach twists around her.

“So, like, you think his lips are nice?” I ask.

I hear her swallow. “Sure. I don’t think kissing him would be so bad.”

Kissing?

Who said anything about kissing?

I move once more, causing the boat to shift and my untied shoelaces to snap against the bottom of the boat.

I don’t like the idea of her kissing Michael. Not one bit. I don’t want him to do anything with her. I could be okay with her kissing Landon because he’s Lorelei’s brother and he’s cool. But not Michael.

“Are you mad?” she asks.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s Michael. It’d be terrible.”

“Terrible? You think I’d be bad at kissing?”

“No,” I rush out to say. “No. I didn’t say that. I meant, he would be—this is coming out wrong. Listen, if you’d be bad, I would be too,” I say, letting the words fall out of me in a mess. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

She inhales. “You haven’t?”

“I tell you everything. Of course I haven’t. We’re in the same boat.”

“Literally, yes,” Ruby says, kicking the interior of our literal boat.

We both laugh, and the mood almost returns to our usual light banter. So, why does my chest still feel tight?

“So … you’re seriously thinking about kissing Michael?”

“Maybe,” she says tentatively. “If he’d kiss me back.”

I hate this. This boat ride is supposed to be our ride, and here we are, talking about my best friend kissing potato-faced Michael of all people.

I don’t want her pink lips on his.

I want Ruby’s lips on mine.

That—that right there—breaks my brain.

I don’t want that, do I?

Do I?

No, I’m only thinking that because she’s my best friend and it feels wrong for anyone else to take her first kiss or make her feel self-conscious about her chest or whatever else matters to her.

I’m protective of her. I always have been. But I’m just doing my best-friend duty, which is why the next words barrel out of me before I realize what’s happening.

“What if we just knock it out now?”

It’s dead quiet. Silent like the grave. Even the lapping water and the ride’s narrator sound a thousand miles away.

Ruby’s soft voice whispers out a small, “You want to kiss me?”

“I mean, I don’t want …” I scratch behind my head. “Blegh. Rubes, it’s just a first kiss. That way, we know it won’t suck when we kiss other people.”

“Well, sure, yeah, I totally want to kiss you after you made that gross sound.”

“Heh. Sorry. But … I don’t know … what if we try?”

“Bennett, I’ve seen the way you eat hot wings.”

I bark out a laugh. “That makes me a bad kisser?”

She bursts into a fit of giggles again. And I laugh, too, but it’s forced because I’m freaking serious. And I feel like I’m grasping at straws because the only thought in my head is, I want to kiss my best friend. But the ride is coming to an end, so if we don’t do it now, we won’t do it at all, and I can’t—I cannot—have her kissing Michael before me.

“Okay, let’s kiss,” she says.

I freeze. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Just, y’know, to be sure we’re good.”

“Do we close our eyes?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

“Bennett, are you okay?”

I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yep. I’m perfect. Let’s do this.”

It hits me all at once that I have zero idea how you kiss a person. Do we just mash our faces together? Do I pucker my lips tight? When we touch, do I just open and close my mouth over and over?

I reach out my hand to cup her head because I think I saw someone do that in a movie once. My hand collides with something wet.

“Ouch! Bennett! My eye!”

“Sorry!”

I attempt to put my hand on her face again, and this time, I succeed. I do the same on the other side, feeling the softness of her hair cascade over the back of my hand. I pull her face closer. Ruby lets out a small breath of air, and I smell the minty scent of toothpaste or maybe the gum she was chewing earlier.

And then I press my lips to hers.

We sit there for a second, warm breaths from our noses exhaling against each other. Her lips taste sweet, and I wonder if she’s wearing candy lip balm or something. They’re soft. Pillowy compared to mine. I like how she smells when I’m this close, like sugar icing or something else sweet.

My heart ricochets into my throat as I realize what I’m doing.

I’m kissing my best friend.

I move my mouth, and then she moves hers. We do that another time, then a third. We keep doing it, and my body is brimming with energy. I turn my head to the side because it’s easier to kiss her that way, and she does the same. I hear her legs squeak against the seat as she scoots closer to me. Her knees hit mine. A shaking hand lands on my arm, gripping the sleeve of my T-shirt.

My stomach is churning and flipping and twisting every which way imaginable. My legs are like blocks of cement, stuck to the floor. I’m too afraid to move. But at some point, Ruby purses her lips more than usual—usual, as if it were so normal for us to kiss now—and I can tell it will be our last.

We pull apart at the same time, and both of us look away. The energy of Honeywood comes rushing back into the tunnel. The rickety clatter of a roller coaster track, the laughter of families, and then the bright sun peering through the exit of the ride. I raise my hand to my forehead to block it out, but my mind is still buzzing.

I just kissed my best friend.

“Was it … slobbery?” Ruby asks.

I swallow. “No. No. It was good.”

“Cool,” she says, then adds, “Y’know, I think I like kissing.”

I like kissing you.

We unload from the boat. I place my hand on her lower back to guide her through the park, but this time, her back is ramrod straight, and everything feels … different. I look down at my wrist with the pink bracelet twine. At our promise.

And when I glance back up, we’re somehow in front of The Bee-fast Stop, and Quinn and Lorelei are talking about the last Grizzly ride. But all I notice are Ruby’s lips, which are no longer pink, but red—from kissing me.

Me.

My body tenses.

It was just a first kiss. No big deal. People kiss all the time, right?

I reach out to hold her hand, but I pull back instead because it doesn’t feel okay anymore.

People kiss all the time.

This meant nothing at all.

We were just two friends, helping each other out. Hell, I could kiss anyone I want now, right?

I mean, Ruby’s gonna go off and kiss Michael now, isn’t she?

But just the thought has my insides twisting, and it knots even more when we see Michael inside The Bee-fast Stop, staring at my best friend with a sly grin and greedy eyes. And she smiles back.

Ruby can do whatever she wants.

It’s not a big deal at all.

Not a big deal one bit.

In fact, it’s the smallest of deals.

Like, miniscule.

That afternoon, when Sarah shyly smiles over at me before we hop on Bumblebee’s Flight, I finally smile back.