THE GAME WAS OVER.

     And . . . our team had won. 

     On the scoreboard, Claudia and I stood side by side and scanned the names.

     "You got like 1000 points," Claudia snickered to me.

     "Shut up. You got just over 500."

     "That's because Skylar Tori was shooting at me. Why wouldn't I let her?"

      Before I could read Monroe's points, Skylar and Aaron pushed through the doors of the maze. Blinking at the bright burst of sunlight.

      "Look!" Cody said. He was already up ahead, staring at the scoreboard. "I got 1500 points. Aaron, what the fuck, man? All you have is 200."

      I was right. Aaron had been badly losing to Monroe.

      I exchanged a glance with Claudia. "How did we win?"

      Cody added, "Skylar got 6000."

      Skylar grinned, but she didn't seem surprised. She'd always been a fucking killer at laser tag.

      But if Claudia and I had only gotten 1500 points combined―and Cody, Aaron, and Skylar had almost 8000 all together . . . then how the fuck had we won?

      "Who's Monroe?" the boy at the counter asked. "She got 39,000 points. I think that's a record."

      As if she'd heard her name spoken, the door to the maze opened again. And Monroe sauntered out, already unstrapping her vest.

       Once she'd hung up her gun, she paused next me and Claudia. Without even looking at the scoreboard, she said, "We won."

       "Yeah," Claudia said in awe. "We won."

       I wanted to ask how the fuck she had gotten 39,000 points, but I refrained. I was still having trouble breathing over our last . . . maybe conversation wasn't the right word.

      She'd shot me and walked away.

      I don't want a truce anymore. 

      I didn't know how to feel about that, not really. But I forced myself to smile, to pretend it didn't bother me.

      I had let her walk away. This was on me. And I didn't—couldn't—care. I hated her. She hated me. As simple as that.

      "So," I said smugly to Cody, Skylar and Aaron. "Guess you guys lost."

      Skylar didn't look too happy about that, but a smile filled Aaron's face, and he picked me up by the waist, spinning me around. Breathless, I hit his shoulders.

      "Put me down, fuckface," I said, laughing.

      When he did, Claudia rolled her eyes at me. And I realized Monroe was gone.

       "Where did . . ." I didn't bother finishing. All I had to do was turn around: through the glass, I could see Monroe swinging one leg over her motorcycle.

       "That hot bitch just massacred us, and now she's walking away," Skylar said—but dreamily, as though she hadn't minded being massacred in the slightest.

       Claudia's eyes were on Skylar. Somehow, I knew she felt the same way. That she wouldn't have minded being massacred, if it was by a pretty girl.

       And the thought brought back the memory of what I'd seen last night.

       I should have realized. I'd been so fucking oblivious. 

       Of course. Of course Claudia wasn't straight.

       And . . . I was finally ready to have that conversation with her. To talk about it.

       "Clauds and I are gonna go home," I said. "I took my mom's car, so . . . probably better to return that, before she gets worried I'm dead in a ditch."

       Although I'd won at laser tag, I hadn't forgotten the fact that I still had one goal left for this October.

       I needed to scare the shit out of someone.

       "We're going to plan Halloween costumes. Call me later!" Skylar shouted, as I walked out of the centre. "Or I'll murder you in the most brutal, grisly way I can think of!"

       "Thanks!" I yelled back. "Nothing like a daily threat to my life to spice things up!"

       Aaron moved to kiss me goodbye, catching me at the door, but before his lips could touch my mouth, I turned my head at the last moment.

      "Talia?"

      "Bye, Aaron!" I said, too enthusiastically. "Bye, Cody. See you guys later."

       Before I could let the hurt expression on his face sink in, I darted out of the door after Claudia.

       In our mom's mini-van, I said, "Hey . . . wanna do something?"

       "Like go home?"

       "No, like . . . waffles."

       I should have known that was all I'd need to get her attention. Her eyes snapped to mine in the rearview mirror, and she bit her lip as a smile spread across her face.

       "Waffles?" she said, as though I had mentioned eradicating poverty or world peace.

       "Waffles," I agreed.

       It was all that needing saying. Ten minutes later, I had pulled up in front of a small, red-checkered stand in an older part of the neighbourhood. Waffles was a little beaten-down truck with a yellow smiley face on its side, but I saw a line forming anyway. Parents and kids who tugged on their hands.

       We hadn't been here in a long time.

       The truck was parked in the middle of a grassy field. Closeby, I knew there was a park. As kids, Claudia and I had come here all the time. We'd race each other to the swings, compete on the monkey bars, and jump in the secret lake not far behind.

       I missed those memories. I hadn't realized it, but there must have been a day when we'd come here for the last time.

      "What are you gonna get?"

      I didn't have to think about it. "Waffles with strawberries, chocolate syrup and whipped cream. You?"

     "Bananas, Nutella and vanilla ice cream."

     I grinned, and once we'd ordered our waffles, we ended up sitting on the rusty set of swings in the old playground.

     It seemed almost like a wasteland. The park was so old—all rickety slides and decaying metal—that I didn't see another kid in sight.

       In the glow of the late afternoon light, I turned towards Claudia.

       There was a little bit of Nutella on the corner of her mouth as she said, "I'm glad we won."

      "Me, too." But it wasn't what I wanted to say. "About last night. When I . . ."

      "Barged into my room without knocking first?"

      "Yeah," I said sheepishly, licking some whipped cream to avoid her eyes. "I wanted to say . . . I . . ."

      She rolled her eyes. "Any slower, Tal?"

     "Do I really have to say it? I support you and whatever? Because . . . well, you know I do. Why is straight the default anyway? Why can't I—um, you—just like who you like and bring home a fucking girlfriend? You should have the freedom to do that. We all should. And for that matter, I think it's bullshit that I should tell you how much I love and accept you. What's different about you now other than the gender you like? Nothing!"

       I hadn't realized how heated I'd gotten, how my voice was rising to a shout, until Claudia pushed her swing into mine.

       The old metal creaked. She said, "You're such a loser. And . . . are you sure you're not straight?"

       "Yes!" I was still shouting, and heat burned under my skin. Lowering my voice, I added, "I'm just . . . I'm not . . . sure."

       Unconvincing. Wholly unconvincing.

       "I probably won't be winning an Oscar anytime soon," I admitted, when Claudia's eyes had narrowed.

       "No fucking kidding."

       "Well," I sighed. "There goes my dream of sitting in a dark and romantic theatre, wowing Keira Knightley with my incredible acting skills."

       "There!" Claudia exclaimed.

       I looked behind me, as if there was a tsunami rising up in the lake. "There what?"

      "No, I mean that should be your first goddamn hint you aren't straight. For the love of God, ever think about why Lexa is your favourite character? Why you spent literal days sobbing about her death?"

      "I . . . I was just . . ."

      Claudia forked a slice of banana into her mouth. "I'm not saying you're a lesbian. I'm not saying you have to only like girls. But just . . . think about the fact that you do."

      "Maybe I'm bisexual," I offered. "Or pan."

      "Could be," she said thoughtfully, pushing herself back on the swing. "But . . . I don't know. You've never really seemed into guys?"

       I thought about Aaron. How I'd laughed when he'd tried to kiss me. How it felt nice, and that was it.

       But maybe all kisses were supposed to be nice and friendly.

       Wasn't that just how everyone felt? That boys were a little repulsive?

       I couldn't be sure. And I was with Aaron now, so it wasn't like I could explore.

       Claudia seemed to know what I was thinking. "You don't have to . . ."

       "What?" I said, swallowing a bite of strawberry and waffle.

       "Be with him. Aaron. I don't think . . ."

       "Come on. He's my best friend."

       "And that's all he should be!" she blurted out.

       "What are you saying? That I should . . ."

       Break up with him? 

       I didn't know why, but it hadn't crossed my mind. Not really. Not yet.

       Breaking up with him—that was real. That would . . . that would really fucking hurt him.

       "You can't just stay in a relationship because you think you're supposed to," Claudia said.

       "What are you, the wise old lady in every princess movie?"

       "Damn right," Claudia said. "I'm your Fairy fucking Godmother."

       I couldn't help it—I laughed. And I couldn't stop. 

       "It wasn't that funny," Claudia said, trying to fight a smile. "Come on! Talia, it wasn't that funny."

       But there were tears coming out of my eyes, and somehow, the remaining bites of my waffle tumbled onto the playground sand. I didn't care—I just couldn't contain it.

       The afternoon light was pure gold now. Claudia's hair was the colour of melting honey, her blue eyes gilded like a sun setting over the ocean. Her lips curved into a smirk, and it was hard to remember that she was thirteen. She really did seem so fucking wise.

      "So you're gay," I finally said, when I'd managed to compose myself. "You're . . . what are you? I didn't ask. Are you bi or . . ."

      "Gay," said Claudia. "A lesbian. Definitely. There's just something about men . . . distasteful. I don't know. I can't imagine it."

      "Really?" Hadn't I used that same word once to describe boys? Distasteful? 

      "Yeah, they're just . . . I don't know."

      "And . . ." I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. "Any girls you like?"

      "Girls," she said wistfully. "All pretty girls, except Amy Coney Barrett. They're just so fucking . . . I don't know. They're amazing. I just want a hot girl to run me over, you know? With a Barbie tricycle."

     "How did I not guess?" I said, cracking up again. 

     She threw one of her sliced bananas at me—missing by an inch. "Because you're so fucking oblivious!" 

      I started swinging back and forth, pushing myself higher now without the waffle tray on my lap.

      Up over the treeline, the sun was blindingly bright, almost orange as it started to set.

      Once Claudia finished her waffles, she started swinging just as hard as me. And without even realizing it, there was suddenly a competition: who could get higher.

       When I was maybe four or five, my grandfather had slipped me into a swing for the first time—one of those baby ones. It had been spring, and as he'd pushed me, my stomach had pinched.

      I had been terrified. But my grandfather either hadn't noticed or cared. He kept pushing, until I was higher and higher.

      And even though the fear was still there and I was close to crying and I was holding on to the chain links so tightly my palms stung, I noticed something else. The cherry blossoms on the trees, how the world was thick with pink and white flowers.

      I had suddenly wanted to fly. More than I'd ever wanted anything.

      And for those brief seconds at the top, when the swing paused in midair, I had.

     I felt that way now. Like time had stopped, like the world was mine—mine for the taking, mine to grab and mold and make.

      There were a lot of things I needed to figure out about myself.

      What I wanted to do when I was older. If I would travel the world with Aaron. Go to a university near home.

       But here with Claudia, swinging like we were kids, none of that mattered. 

       And maybe this was life. These tiny precious moments. 

      I vowed to keep this memory forever. The amber hue of the sky. The dazzling rush of air in my chest. The way tears had sprung to my eyes, forced by the wind. All I wanted was to go higher and higher and higher. 

      I could taste chocolate and strawberry and sea salt. Claudia's laughter was like a song, trapped in the infinite space of these seconds. And I breathed it in—the desperation and the fear and the longing and the love of it all.

      This was what it felt like to be alive, wasn't it?

      It hurt that Monroe and I were enemies, and it hurt that my dad had said, I wouldn't want one of my kids to be gay, and it hurt that I couldn't love Aaron the way I thought he loved me.

      It hurt, but I was alive. I was alive, and I—

      I had the power to hurt, to hurt so bad it felt like I might never heal. But I also had the power to love, and love . . . 

      I didn't know about love yet. Not really.

      And it wasn't like I was in love or anything.

      But when I imagined the possibility of it, I saw jade eyes, split knuckles and a wicked smirk.

      I grounded my feet in the sand, forcing the swing to a stop.

      Just like that, I knew what I had to do.

***

I'm curious about y'all. What are you guys passionate about? Are there any topics that you just feel really intense about?

From the moon and back,
Sarai