24: I NEED SOMEONE TO HELP ME SURVIVE JOHN TRAVOLTA

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 "SO."

"SO," LAURA looks up from her lunch, mouth quirking upwards. Lydia's off working on her project with Emmett, and it's the third time in as many days Allison's sat with Laura at lunch, because her company is easy and simple and friendly and just generally good.

"I was wondering..." Allison shifts, picking at her chicken and not willing to look at Laura, because no matter how comfortable she is around her, this is just downright embarrassing. Still. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And she still hasn't called or texted Toby. So this is a desperate time.

"You were wondering...?"

"IfyoumaybehadacopyofGrease," Allison says quickly, the words falling out of her mouth.

Laura raises an eyebrow, mouth still dangerously close to breaking out in a smirk. "Sorry, could you say that again?"

"A copy of Grease," Allison says, trying to be calm about it.

Now, Laura does smirk. "Not a musicals girl, huh?"

Allison glares. "Shut up. Do you have a copy or not?"

"Do I live under a rock?" Laura snorts. "Of course I have a copy."

"Can I borrow it?"

"Wait, hold up," she shakes her head. "You mean you don't have a copy of Grease?"

Allison thinks she probably did - or, at least, her mom did - once upon a time. But when they moved to Manhattan, they were going to a much smaller house. And her mom sometimes got really upset and threw stuff out that reminded her of Allison's dad. So it's likely that John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John found their home in the trashcan along with several other things that were too painful to look at.

"No?"

"You're despicable," Laura mutters into her food. Then, louder, looking up at her: "Yeah, sure, I'll lend it to you. I'll bring it in tomorrow?"

"Come watch it with me," Allison blurts out suddenly, because she doesn't know if she likes the image in her head of her sitting alone in her house watching songs like Hopelessly Devoted to You being performed.

Laura studies her closely, then takes a drink of her water. "Are you asking me out?"

"What? No - I mean, not that you're not - I just - I don't -"

Laura lets out a snorting laugh into the neck of the water bottle. "Oh, God," she splutters, putting it down and taking a look at Allison's burning cheeks, only to burst into laughter once more. "You're so gullible."

"You're horrible," Allison scowls in response. "I can't believe - you're horrible."

It takes a long time after that for Laura to stop laughing, but as soon as she gets her giggles under control, she manages to say in between them: "Okay, yes, sure, I'll watch it with you," she says, still snickering. "Any reason you need company? And is tomorrow good?"

Allison thinks that the question Laura should actually be asking is probably "Any reason you're watching this at all?" but maybe Laura is more accustomed to people who just casually watch musical films for no reason, so she says: "I need someone to help me survive John Travolta. Tomorrow is great, but I've got swim until five, so -"

"Oh my God," Laura looks ridiculously excited for reasons Allison cannot begin to fathom. "Can I come watch?"

"Watch swim practice?"

"Yeah!"

"Laura," Allison raises an eyebrow at her from across the table. "There is nothing to watch. Literally."

"Sure there is!" Laura chirps, unfazed, and yeah, she is literally Toby. "You'll be there, right?"

"Mostly submerged entirely underwater."

"So can I come watch?"

Allison looks at her closely. "Okay. I mean, I have absolutely no idea why you want to come watch, but sure. Come watch people swimming around in unflattering swimsuits for two hours."

"Okay," Laura beams. "I will."

Allison rolls her eyes. "You can come over after that, if you want. And we can. Watch Grease."

"Sounds like a plan," she nods around a mouthful of her lunch. "I look forward to it. You've seen Grease before, right?"

"I mean, probably? I don't remember much."

Laura chokes on her water. "Probably? As in, there's a chance you might not have?"

"I'm watching it tomorrow...?"

"You're despicable," Laura shakes her head, mildly disgusted. "And very lucky that I'm here, Allison Reed."

✦

Swimming for Allison has always been one of the most uncomplicated regular things in her life, the kind of thing that goes right under going to church and having to clear up the table after dinner. Unlike both of those other things, however, she genuinely enjoys swimming. She doesn't consider herself a particularly athletic person, but things seem to change when she's in the water. Things are easier, smoother, more fluid. She can count the breaths she takes and put them up against the strokes she makes. She can strip all her thoughts right back down to basic inhale-exhale and movement of muscles. She can let her thoughts become muffled by the water.

And, in this case, she can stop thinking so much about Toby.

Ridiculously, Laura did end up coming to watch, sitting by the side with some homework and a book and waving at her as soon as Allison had set foot out of the changing rooms. It's pretty flattering, actually. Lydia used to come and watch too, sometimes, before Allison had dropped swim altogether in junior year; even so, she's not used to it.

Allison finishes her warm-up laps a few metres ahead of the girl behind her, and even the very brief rest from physical exertion is enough time for her mind to wander back to Toby. And how he still hasn't talked to her. And how she still hasn't talked to him.

And how she kind of really misses him.

The rest of swim practice is mostly just going through the motions. Sure, Allison likes not thinking when she swims, but sometimes it's the only time she can think, the exercise repetitive enough to help clear her head. Except - her head doesn't exactly feel clear right now, just blurring with thoughts about Toby and whether he's okay and how she wants to talk to him.

God, she thinks when the coach says to call it a day and she clambers out, managing to have enough presence of mind to spare Laura a quick smile before gesturing to the changing rooms and going to the showers. When did this even happen? How is it that at the start of last semester she'd barely had one conversation with Toby Martin in her life?

"Hey, you okay?" Elizabeth, the captain of their team, is looking at her from behind the blur of the water spluttering out of one of the showerheads, seeming vaguely concerned.

"Hm?" Allison runs a hand through her hair, the water dripping off it gently. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," she offers Elizabeth a smile, before going to switch her shower off. "Thanks."

Elizabeth smiles back. She's always been big on 'taking care of her team'. Allison thought she'd be excluded from that rule after she quit swim last year, but she was almost immediately proven wrong - Elizabeth's always stopped to say hi, or offer assistance, and when Allison rejoined last semester, she looked like she'd just been told they were all going to swim in the Olympics, or something. Allison personally has never felt like the strongest member of their team, but Elizabeth's been continually attributing their recent victory streak to her.

"No prob," Elizabeth says. "See you next Tuesday."

"Yeah," Allison replies absently, ducking into the changing rooms. It doesn't take her long to put on clothes and go meet Laura, who's texted her saying she's outside.

"Okay, I'm here," Allison says when she reaches Laura in the car park. "Hey."

"You're really good at swim," Laura says by way of response as they walk to Allison's car.

"Uh, thanks?"

"No, like really. You were basically the best one in the pool."

Allison arches a brow. "And how exactly did you decide I was the best?"

Laura shrugs. "You just were. You and Elizabeth just kinda...move differently to the others in the water. Like, you're not trying to fight it, you're sort of...one with it. Working with it."

"How poetic," Allison says dryly. Laura snorts in amusement, but deliberately walks sideways into her, shoving her slightly.

"Don't be mean," Laura scolds. "I was complimenting you."

"Thanks for the compliment, Laura."

"You're welcome, Allison."

Allison shoots a wry glance at her, but Laura just beams.

(Definitely female Toby.)

✦

"So, is this ringing any bells? Also, do I want to know why you're taking notes?"

"Some," Allison says thoughtfully as the intro to Summer Nights begins to play. "And no, I don't think you do."

"Hm," Laura is lying on the couch and tossing pieces of popcorn into her mouth occasionally, evidently having no problem with feeling at home. Allison's been left to sit at the end near the end, but she finds that she doesn't mind (if it were Toby, she'd probably have bitched him out by now). "Okay, I won't ask."

Halfway through the song, and she's singing along unabashedly. Allison rolls her eyes and thinks about Toby again. She guesses it's a plus that Laura also has a good voice, rather than all the enthusiasm but none of the talent.

Literally Toby, she shakes her head as the number ends and Laura looks up at her with a beam on her face, beginning to talk animatedly about how awesome Grease is. There is no other way to describe it.

The movie continues in much the same fashion, with Laura talking enthusiastically about various parts of it, and Allison making various notes about how it's kind of (actually, very) sexist, but, annoyingly, still very enjoyable.

The credits are running when Allison, out of force of habit, says: "Video log?"

Laura, who, by this point, has sat up, knees drawn to her chest as she perches on the couch, turns to face her with a curious frown. "What?"

"Uh, sorry," Allison shakes her head, blinking. "I meant to ask if you want something to drink or something."

"Oh, do you have hot chocolate?" Laura asks eagerly. "I could seriously use some right now."

The similarities to Toby are getting slightly ridiculous now. Still, Allison thinks, she could use some too, even if it means she's back to square one on the 'don't think about Toby too much' front.

"Sure," she nods. She suddenly feels extremely tired. "I'll just...I'll go make some now."

"You okay?" Laura has moved around to face Allison, who's now standing behind the couch, on her way to the kitchen.

"Hm?"

"You look kinda...spaced out. Tired?"

"Yeah," Allison just manages to nod. This always happens after swim; she usually starts to lose ability to form coherent sentences around about now, too. She just hopes she'll be able to hold out until Laura leaves before collapsing onto her bed. "It's the - the, um...the swim. I'll - I'll go make us..."

"Oh, no no no," Laura shakes her head, getting up and moving over to Allison, before pressing her hand gently to the small of the back and guiding her back to the couch and making her sit down. "I will make us hot chocolate."

"But you don't..." Allison pauses, cutting her own phrase off with a yawn. "You don't know where anything - where anything is..."

"I'm sure I'll find my way," Laura purses her lips. "If you want to fall asleep, that's okay, too. I'll make executive decisions."

Allison wants to ask what kind, exactly, of executive decisions she plans on making, but isn't sure she's conscious enough to even begin to try and pronounce the word 'executive'. Instead, she settles for an "Okay."

"Okay," Laura looks a little more satisfied. "I'll be right back. Feel free to sleep."

"Mmf," Allison mumbles, already feeling her eyelids begin to droop. She feels bad and a little childish, because she's seventeen, she should not be falling asleep in broad daylight, but it's been a long week, and the couch is pretty comfortable, and swim really has tired her out, and it's all too easy to close her eyes and tell herself that she's just closing her eyes and let things kind of go from there.

✦

Allison wakes up in a slightly better position than she remembers falling asleep in, and a blanket draped over her shoulders. Blinking blearily, she reaches for her phone, resting on the coffee table, and clicks the button, illuminating the display. The numbers on it read 20.41, which is still only just too early for her mom to be home from work. Yawning, she lets her eyes move over to the other thing on the coffee table, which is a folded piece of lined paper clearly torn from the notebook beside it, and has some writing on it.

Allison,

Told you I'd make executive decisions! I made you a cup of hot chocolate, and I left it in the microwave, but it'll probably be cold by the time you wake up, so you might need to heat it. Also, I found a blanket. So there's that too. Thanks for watching Grease and not minding me singing along. See you tomorrow!

Laura x

PS: Your notes on Grease are good. I still don't know what you need them for (?) but I added some about the social context that I thought might be helpful.

PPS: Yes, I know I could've texted you. Notes are cooler.

Allison reaches for her notebook automatically after reaching the end of Laura's note. Sure enough, her own notes on Grease have now been extended, with a few extra bullet points in Laura's own small, neat handwriting.

"Oh my God," Allison practically groans, letting her head fall into her hands as her elbows are propped up on the coffee table. "How are some people so nice?"

She's not used to it - not really. For Allison, there's always been two types of good people: good people, and kind people. Good people are good people. They do what's right and yeah, they're empathetic, and a lot of the time they work for good things and they do good things. They also seem to be the type of people that she ends up befriending, or getting close to. For example: Lydia. Lydia is the perfect example of a good person.

But then there are kind people - people who are good, but have something in them that Allison has never exactly understood, something that means they're always going the extra mile. Her and Lydia are good people, but they're not kind people. Like, Allison is pretty sure Lydia will do anything under the sun for people she loves, but she won't for some random freshman, or whatever. That's something kind people do - people like Laura.

And Toby.

Sighing, Allison closes the notebook and sits up with the blanket covering her lap, unwilling to relinquish its warmth just yet. She isn't really sure when it stopped being just good people she was friends with and when kind people started being her friend too. She's never understood it, if she's honest. She thinks it's pretty awesome and wishes she could be that kind of person, sure, but it's never really going to happen. She'll leave that to Laura.

Who, Allison remembers, has left her a cup of hot chocolate in the microwave that she best get to drinking.

✦

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Allison says in English the following afternoon.

"Hm?"

"Yesterday," she clarifies. "You didn't...you didn't have to."

Laura gives her a soft smile. "I know," she shakes her head, looking at Allison as though she's being ridiculous. "I wanted to."

"Well," Allison purses her lips, before offering a smile of her own in return. "Thanks."

Laura looks like she's about to reply, but Ms. Blake chooses that moment to enter the classroom. Just behind her is Toby, and Allison can't keep herself from staring slightly.

He looks far better than he did the previous week, even if the circles under his eyes are still there. But they've always been there; Allison thinks about it and hates how she didn't notice it before. How it took Toby being up at the same time as her, one am in the middle of December, for her to know that he was an insomniac. How it still took Lydia to point it out.

And she feels like shit.

Toby's eyes brush over hers for a brief second, and it's enough for Allison to feel like she's at the very top of the highest point of a rollercoaster ride: just a breath away from toppling over and plummeting downwards. And somewhere in the back of her mind is a voice saying that this is maybe the time when she should smile, or wave, or something, but she can't really seem to.

Toby's eyes flicker with something, and maybe it's wishful thinking, but she thinks his lips start to turn upwards into something akin to a smile before he stops it short.

And that's the thing: he stops it.

It makes Allison feel miserable, and she hates it. The only person who's ever managed to make her feel this awful after a fight is Lydia. And it's a given, because she knows that it's mutual; Lydia feels just as bad as she does when they fight. Does Toby? she wonders. Or is he glad he got it all out? Was he just waiting for the right time?

Allison opens her book and doesn't read. Instead, she stares at the back of the girl in front of her, whose hair is dyed around fifty different colours, thinks about how Toby Martin has the most frustrating hold on her, and, for the first time, she doesn't think she has the same hold over him.

The next thing she knows, Lydia's tugging at her sleeve with a concerned expression; the rest of the classroom is empty.

"Huh?" Allison says dumbly, because Lydia's looking at her like she's said something and is waiting for a response.

"I said, did you not notice Toby trying to catch your eye all lesson? Have you guys not made up yet?'

"What?" Allison mumbles. "He wasn't trying to..."

Lydia rolls her eyes. "He really was," she hands Allison her bag and tugs her up from her seat, not letting go of her arm even after they've exited the classroom. "So I'm guessing that means you're still not talking?"

"I guess."

"How was Grease with Laura yesterday?"

"You knew about that?"

"Please," Lydia says daintily as they leave school. "I know everything."

"You don't know everything."

"Pretty close, though."

Allison would argue the point further, but part of her mind's still wandering around somewhere with Toby and how he was apparently trying to catch her eye.

"Allison?"

"Sorry," Allison shakes her head, determined to jerk herself out of her own gaze. "I...sorry."

Lydia's eyes are gentle in a way she has that makes Allison sometimes wonder whether she really is a good person, not a kind one too. She feels Lydia's fingers wrap around her own, and, for no reason, feels her eyes drawn to where they're joined, Lydia's pale fingers on top of her own longer ones. Lydia's talking, but Allison can't hear anything, still oddly focused on studying both of their hands.

"...and you obviously miss him, which is why you - Allison, are you even listening to me?"

"Hm?"

Lydia sighs, the breath escaping all at once through her nose. "What is up with you? Actually, no, don't answer that, I know what's up."

"What's -"

"Oh, for the love of God, Allison, ever since your damn fight with Toby you're acting more miserable than that time in sophomore year when your crush got a girlfriend. This is almost as bad as when you broke up with Daniel."

"Broke up?"

"Yes," Lydia's tone has turned from exasperated to one that is usually reserved for communication with small children and, occasionally, dogs. "Broke up."

"But Toby isn't my boyfriend," Allison is struggling to join up the dots, kind of because she's only just tuned in to what Lydia's been saying, and there's a gap in her knowledge between the words Toby and broke up.

"Yet," Lydia corrects. "But yes, I'm aware. I was saying that you're acting almost as bad as you did when you broke up with Daniel."

"What does 'yet' mean? What do you mean?"

Lydia rolls her eyes. "I mean that if you don't end up dating there is a severe problem, because people do not get this hung up over arguments with just friends."

"Sometimes I get this hung up over arguments with you," Allison says honestly, because, well, it's true.

Lydia doesn't respond, only, oddly, looks away, breaking eye contact. Allison feels Lydia's fingers loosen around her own, and frowns.

"That's...that's different," Lydia mutters. "It's not - it's not the...not the same."

"Why not?"

"Because," Lydia takes a deep breath, and it sound a little shaky to Allison's ears. "It just is."

"How?"

"We're friends."

"So are Toby and me."

"Yeah, except you don't like me," Lydia rebukes sharply. "And you do like Toby."

"Who says?" Allison replies, a little childishly.

Lydia stops short suddenly, their walking down the sidewalk ceasing with abruptness. "Who says what?"

"Who says I like Toby?"

"Oh," Lydia says, and Allison catches her swallowing before continuing her walking. "I do."

"And you would know because...?"

"Because I'm not blind, and even if I were, because I know you backwards, Allison Reed, and you like him, you're just pretending you don't because of god knows what."

"I..."

"Just," Lydia stops to take another breath. "Just talk to him, okay? If you want to dance around the romance, fine, but at least make up as friends. You need it. Both of you."

"Fine," Allison relents. "I'll text him."

"Good," Lydia says in what is probably meant to be a satisfied tone of voice but comes out a little weaker than Allison thinks she intended.

"Lydia..." Allison leans forward, peering at her best friend. "Are you okay?"

Lydia arches an eyebrow at her, and with just that one movement, Allison can feel her personality returning in full force. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, you're just...you're acting a little...off. That's all."

"I'm okay," Lydia says briskly, and that's what makes Allison sit on the fence, half she's fine she just had a weird moment and half she's not fine I must investigate. Eventually, she decides to leave it, because prodding has never been a policy she's had with Lydia, and she's not about to start now. If something's up, Lydia will tell her.

She'd say if something was wrong. Right?

"Okay," Allison says out loud. "Wanna go to Starbucks?"

Lydia nods and makes a comment about her current need for coffee, and Allison laughs along.

But she would, though, she thinks. Right?