CHAPTER SIX
❛ the birds and the bees. ❜

SYDNEY HADN'T COME HOME LAST NIGHT, SO I ASSUMED she'd had a sleepover with Dina... or something. Nevertheless, I still wondered where she had been when I woke up that morning and I peered over the end of the bed, only to find no one drowsily giving me the middle finger.

I felt awful: there was a dull ache seeping through my lower back and thighs, tightening into a painful knot at my abdomen. There was a sensation that I recognised all too well, and sure enough when I went to the bathroom to check, my suspicions had been correct.

     Well, well, well. Couldn't you have been timed more perfectly?

     Aside from a text here and there gloating about the hot springs and scenery, my parents and I had hardly contacted each other. This morning, however, they gave me a call.

"Hi honey!" My Mom chirped on the line. I could hear something crackling, or sizzling in the background. Perhaps a fried breakfast?

"Hi Mom," I replied, comparing their luxurious wake-up call to my groggy awakening. "How're you?"

"We're good! Your Dad's just making us a bite to eat: English breakfast for us."

"Sounds nice."

"I'll be glad to get something in my stomach. That hike yesterday took it out of me, and then Mike called me from work, so I had a quick look over my numbers all of last night."

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to hold back from hollering the word 'hypocrite!' down the phone. "Hold on... so, you mean to tell me that you went on a getaway... and you're still doing work?"

"It's just a little bit, perfectly harmless." she reassured me. Or, tried to. It didn't work. Excuses, excuses, excuses. "I can't just ditch them completely if they need me."

"What part of 'getaway' don't you understand, Mom?" I'd meant to sound rebellious, or sarcastic as I said it, but it came out as more of a desperate plea. Which, maybe, it was. This was what my whole childhood had been; some kind of game, to try and get my parents to look up from their work and notice me. Sometimes I felt like screaming at them, HEY! I'M RIGHT HERE! CAN'T YOU SEE ME?

      That's another reason why I hated this romantic getaway thing. It was so out-of-character for my workaholic parents.

     "Don't worry about me. Anyway, how are you getting on? Working hard at school?"

     "Yes, Mom."

     "Still practicing cello?"

     I gazed uncomfortably at my cello, which was propped up in the corner of the room; virtually untouched after my last session with Mrs. Foster. The motivation had been dire. "Yep," I replied eventually. Like a liar.

     "Good," she told me. Her tone seemed vague, like she was distracted. "Anything else? Any news?"

     Well, where should I have begun? I got asked out on a date, but said date went horribly. My cello teacher hates me, I'm stuck (no thanks to my dear parents) for a fortnight with the most tense family in Brownsville, Stanley Barber won't leave me alone, and now I've got my period. So, yeah, Mom. I'm great!

     "Nope. Not really. It's been pretty boring on my end." I shrugged, although she couldn't see it.

     There was muffled chatter on the other end of the line, and I waited hesitantly for her to respond. "Okay, I think breakfast is ready, so I'm gonna have to go now."

     She hadn't even listened to me. "Okay."

     "We send our love! Talk soon, have fun, bye!"

      "Bye, Mom, I love y—"

     I was met with a monotone silence as she hung up, leaving me talking to a void. That's what it was like in real life, too. Like trying to get a brick wall to move.

     It was moments like this that made me think of Miss Osten. First off, she was gorgeous; a voice that was smooth and soft like silk, emerald green eyes that glinted with pride, and golden blonde hair that was held back by a technicolour bandana that sat at the top of her forehead. I always looked forward to practice with her, because she listened. Talking to my parents was often taxing, because eventually their eyes would gloss over with a vacant look, as the paranoia over whether they completed that vital spreadsheet overshadowed their daughter's first cello recital.

It's like that thing I said earlier on, with the radio. Some people, like my parents, are listening to it on mute or eventually switch channels. Other people, like Calvin, find entertainment in the channel and think it's something good to occupy themselves with until their favourite show comes on.

But Miss Osten... it was like I was her favourite channel. She turned the volume up, just for me.

Speaking of the volume turned up, my phone pinged at full blast next to me and gave me a start. When I checked who it was from, Calvin's name was flashing across the screen:

Him: So... how'd last night go?? ;P

My fingers tapped along the keyboard, typing and deleting, until eventually I formulated an accurate enough response to sum it all up:

Me: Fuck you

Him: It went well then?! LOLOLOL

Me: I acted really weird and he didn't take it well. It was so awkward...

Me: And Stanley Barber was there

Him: And? Did u have a threesome, or?

Me: CALVIN SIMPSON, THAT IS GROSS.

Him: Ok ok Im sorry! But do u see my point now? It wasnt gonna work between u + Ryder, he's nice but not ur type of guy

Me: What's my type of guy, then? ;)

Him: Idk, and also never text me a winky smiley face ever again, its highly disturbing coming from u lol

Me: ;) ;) ;)

Him: sTOP PLS

Him: Btw are u free this morning? Maybe we could go 2 the diner for a late breakfast if u havent eaten yet.

Me: I think I need that, actually. Thanks. I'll meet you there — my Aunt can take me, she's working a shift today.

***

     The greasy heaven was just what I needed that morning. My cramps were sickening, but indulging in a plate of eggs, fries and bacon, with a glass of orange juice made the discomfort bearable — as well as the small dose of painkillers I'd swallowed this morning before going out, too. The food was probably not doing my health any favours, but it wouldn't kill me, and I was craving it.

I debriefed the entire events of the date to Calvin, who listened intently. I also told him I was on my period, which he was absolutely fine with.

To my utter relief, we'd made an agreement at the beginning of our friendship that with things like that, we should just tell each other straight out. He also handled menstrual emergencies as every guy should, in my opinion: without much of a fuss. One time I leaked through my leggings at school, and I didn't know how to get to the bathroom without making a fuss. Calvin had then proceeded to 'accidentally' empty his water bottle all over my lap, so when I escaped, people were otherwise distracted by the spillage. Yes, admittedly I was annoyed about getting wet, but much less embarrassed than I would have been had someone noticed the blood stain.

He slowly sat back in the booth opposite me, drumming his fingers on the table. "Don't say I told you so, but... I told you so."

I huffed, my eyelids fluttering as I sipped from my orange juice. "But he wasn't being mean, or anything. Just... very weird."

"Maybe he was nervous?"

"D'you think so?"

"Possibly," Calvin paused whilst he stabbed a bacon rasher with his fork. He continued to wave the meat around in the air as he talked. "Guys are weird like that sometimes. Toxic masculinity, or whatever— oops!" he mumbled. The bacon had slipped back onto the plate, and his shoulders relaxed in relief that it hadn't fallen to the floor.

"Maybe I'll talk to him on Monday," I said. "Smooth things over. Make sure it's not awkward."

"You hate confrontation." Calvin countered me, with a smirk. He was right.

"Yeah, but I also hate being awkward."

"Too bad that's your constant state of being."

"Shut your trap and eat your bacon like a good boy."

Giggling, he smiled infectiously through chewing a mouthful, and my hard stare softened. As I dug into my eggs, I heard the doorbell tinkle and two familiar voices wafting through the air. They approached nearer, until they were seated directly behind us. I swivelled around, peeking around the side of the booth to come face-to-face with the culprits.

"Sydney!" I almost exclaimed. "There you are. You didn't come home last night."

"Uh... n-no, I didn't, that's true." she stammered. Sydney seemed flustered, her freckles obscured by her face turning a mortified pink tint.

"What were you doing?"

"I... uh..."

Dina cocked her head to the side, giving me a delicate wave. Her skin was glowing, a bronze hue dancing on her cheeks. Honestly, this girl had the ethereal beauty I wish I had. Although I didn't care much about looks. Not really, anyway. Just a little.

"Syd's got something to tell me," — she announced, staring at her in a mockingly skeptical way. — "apparently, anyway."

"Mind if we join you?" Calvin asked, although he was already stood and hovering nearer their booth.

"Um, uh, Dina, I-I don't think that's—"

"Yeah, of course!"

Sydney watched in defeat, as I perched on the side of her seat, and Calvin scooted in next to Dina. We brought our plates and drinks with us, and it took me a few seconds of shuffling around before I found the comfortable position for me and my... predicament, to co-exist.

We all watched her expectantly, and her lips were pursed as she cleared her throat. She fidgeted, her fingers twitching nervously, before she murmured something intangible.

"Syd, I can't hear you." Dina shook her head, smiling.

My cousin swallowed, and rubbed her thighs. And then she said it. In response Dina had snorted, Calvin's brows had shot halfway up his forehead, and my eyes had practically popped out of their sockets.

I don't know what I was expecting; but it was definitely not the words "I fucked Stanley Barber."

The words kept replaying in my head, over and over like a broken record. Is that... is that where he'd been last night? Whilst I was trying to keep a conversation going for longer than five minutes, Stanley was having sex with my cousin?!

Well. This is awkward.

The rest of their conversation faded out to an incoherent blur. They'd started getting into the details, and I wanted to hear none of it.

     If I'm being honest, the idea of sex... scares me? Okay, maybe scared is the wrong word, but it freaks me out. I'm a virgin, for starters, so maybe the lack of experience is just getting to my head. But I've heard many stories over the years: pregnancy scares, contracting diseases, bleeding after you've done it. And I think to myself, What's the point in going through all that trouble just to get some pleasure? I can name several things that can probably give me more pleasure than sex ever will.

     It's not the pleasure that repels me. The idea of intimacy or sensuality isn't something I hate. Truthfully, I'd hope to find that one day, even if I'm not the most affectionate person in the world. It would be nice to fall in love and have someone who you can trust completely, I guess.

It's the idea of the... penetration. Ugh, even the word makes me shudder. It's just weird. The idea... of his thing... going into my thing...? I don't know, it just sounds invasive. This might sound crazy, but the idea of childbirth (whilst still a traumatic concept) sounds less alien to me than the idea of sexual intercourse. I'm used to things coming out, but things going in? No thank you, sir.

I think a lot of it might be underlying insecurities. Like, what if it isn't all it's cracked up to be? And what if the guy only wanted me for that? What if I mess it up?

What am I even doing? It's not even midday and I'm already stressing myself out.

I heard the words 'Bradley Lewis' leave Sydney's mouth and reluctantly tuned back into the conversation, sincerely hoping they were done talking about sex...

     Dina was scrolling through text messages on her phone, her smile faltering. "I'm worried about Brad."

     "What did he do?" I asked, secretly hoping he'd fallen down a well. Cruel, I know, but a girl can dream.

     Sydney scoffed beside me, pinching the bridge of her nose in what I can only describe as irritated disbelief.

     "Bradley injured himself yesterday," she explained to me, ignoring my cousin's mockery. "He's in a lot of pain."

     "Dina, he's acting like he's lost a leg."

     "We were supposed to go to Ricky Berry's birthday party tonight, but... I don't think he's up for it."

     I watched as Syd rattled her fingernails against her glass, also filled with orange juice. "Wait, you got invited to that?" she queried.

     Dina fiddled with some loose strings at the end of her sleeve, winding them around her finger. In that moment, she didn't seem like this popular, effortlessly radiant bombshell I'd made her out to be — she just seemed like an nervous little girl, insecure like me, and many others. Finally she answered, "Um... yeah, I guess I sort of got invited."

     "Right. Cool."

     "I don't know... I don't think I'm gonna go, though, so..."

     I felt like I was watching a movie scene in some teen drama, as Sydney shot her a disappointed look. "What? So you can take care of Brad?"

     "I mean..." Dina let out an anxious chuckle, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. As if she knew exactly how pathetic that sounded.

     For a while Syd just watched her, observing as if she pitied her, before she flailed her arms flippantly in the air. "Fuck it, why don't you just go with me?" she asked, followed by a breathy half-laugh, half-sigh.

     Again, this is what I couldn't understand about the two. There was something going on. Whenever I (involuntarily) had the opportunity to eavesdrop on their conversations, I couldn't help get the feeling that there was some unspoken truth between them, that neither wanted to admit. Words that kept being left unsaid. I think I knew what it was, but I wanted to be absolutely sure before I made assumptions.

     Finally, Dina beamed at her. "Ye— okay. Okay!"

     "Yeah, let's do it!"

     "Okay, Syd!"

     They clinked their glasses together in a chorus of laughs, as they took a sip. Sydney gazed tentatively at Dina when she wasn't looking, and she did the same to her. Although I don't think Dina quite realised the weight of it the way Sydney did. Either way, it was like they'd forgotten we were here; they were caught up in their own frenzy, too elated to register anything outside of their bubble.

     It wasn't until Calvin made a comment about his intentions with the party that they both entered reality once more, Dina nudging him playfully in the arm. And before I knew it, she was asking me a question. I hadn't heard.

     "Sorry, what?"

     She giggled. "I said, do you wanna come with us? To Ricky Berry's party?"

     "Oh, no thanks." I answered. I didn't even have to consciously think about that one, it was like a reflex action. Part of it was because I felt like someone was scraping a spade around my uterus — and obviously I wasn't telling her that — but there was something else, too. They needed this. Just the two of them. "You guys have fun," I added. "I'll stay home and entertain Liam."

     "You sure?" Sydney inquired, although the hope in her voice was hard to miss.

     "Absolutely. What could be better than staying in to play Nintendo with Liam Novak?"

     As if on cue, I was drawn to the squeaking of a turning stool at the counter. Liam stare over at us, alert at the mention of his name. The minute I gave him a small wave, he returned it, accompanied with the most heartfelt little grin.

In my peripheral, I saw Sydney was grinning, too. But that was for a different reason...

The four of us talked over our breakfast, and once finished made our way out to pay.

"Hey, girls," — Aunt Maggie greeted us, all smiles as propped her elbow up on the side of the counter. — "good breakfast?"

"Yes. Thanks so much, Mrs. Miller." Dina glowed as she spoke.

"Don't worry, hon, it's on me."

"Thank you."

I spotted Calvin cracking a smile next to me, and simply shook my head. It wasn't Dina that amused him, it was Maggie. Or rather her name.

See, there's this running joke in my family about my Dad and my Uncle being twins. They both met their future wives in school. My Mom's maiden name is Miller, as is my Aunt's. And ironically, they're also both redheads — Maggie's is strawberry blonde, whilst my Mom's used to be a deep, flaming auburn before she died it brown. That's where I get the intensity of my red hair from, although mine is lighter, but still a little redder than Sydney's. So, there's this rhyme that goes, "You're a Novak twin, if you go for ginger Miller women!"

The rhyme isn't even that good. My Granddad made it up. But my Dad and Uncle, as well as their wives, never heard the end of it. It's even weirder now that Maggie goes by her maiden name, too... except I think we all wish the circumstances weren't so bitter.

"How come you always make me pay?" Sydney complained quietly to Maggie, through gritted teeth.

"Because Dina is nicer to me than you are, and I like her better than you."

... Ouch.

I was sharing the same not-sure-what-to-do look with Dina and Calvin, as we all tried to appear as casual as humanly possible. It was hard to not react though, when the relationship between Sydney and her Mom was so hostile. I never remembered it being this bad...

"Okay," Dina laughed in discomfort, and patted Syd's shoulder briefly. "I'll see you later!"

"Bye!"

Maggie waited until Dina had left, along with Calvin who keenly trailed behind her, before leaning closer to Syd. "Okay, so here's the deal. Karen's dog got diarrhoea—"

"Ew."

"— so I have to stay a few more hours."

Liam and I exchanged a look, as Sydney dragged out a heavy sigh. "So that means what?"

"It means, you can stay here and marry some ketchups for me..."

"Okay. No sale." my cousin interjected with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose.

Maggie nodded, forcing a fake smile. "Or, you can take your brother and our dear guest home..." she was now standing by Liam, who seemed oblivious to it all. But not stupid. "... without being an asshole about it."

     I felt bad for the kid. He flinched as his Mom placed her hand on his shoulder — he knew it was a loving gesture, of course, and leaned into it instinctively. But he was like... some kind of middleman in a tug of war between the two people he loved the most. That must be hard. I've never known that personally, but I think camping out with my relatives was giving me a good understanding of what it was like.

     "Alright," Sydney gave in eventually. "I'll take them home."

     We left pretty soon after that, Sydney walking a couple steps ahead of Liam and I. The diner was located directly next to the Brownsville mural, and as you stepped out you immediately walked into the shadow of a giant bridge overhead.

     Liam asked something, but it was drowned out by a train horn blaring.

     "What'd you say, Goob?"

     "Where did Stan go?"

     Both she and I were as puzzled as the other. "What do you mean?"

     "You said that Stan was going down somewhere." Liam explained innocently. And suddenly I got it; even though I'd refrained from listening to their PG-13 conversation in the diner, I didn't have to to know what the alarmed expression on Sydney's face meant.

     "No!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. "No, I didn't."

     "Yes you did."

     "No, I really didn't."

     He sighed in frustration. "You told Dina that Stan was going down somewhere, and that he was really good at it."

     I snorted. It was hard to imagine a time where innuendo had no effect on me, whatsoever. Back in the days where all I cared about was bug-hunting and collecting keychains.

     "Yup. Uh, he's, um... he's going down south to Mexico," she stammered, pride flashing across her face for a brief moment. "and he's, uh, he's very good at it. 'Cause he's such a great, uh, traveler. He's a very efficient packer."

     Faint rock music began to fade into audibility, and the rumble of an old car. I turned around, squinting into the sunlight and finding the unmistakable dusty yellow vehicle pulling up beside us. It was bright outside, but even then I could still see the sunglasses-bearing boy in the sun's glare, peering through the window.

     Oh geez, that's the guy who had sex with your cousin. STOP! Don't think that, you're just making things weird. Yeah, but it's true! He "went down" on Sydney and now that's all you'll be able to remember him as. Of course not. Stanley Barber: the boy who banged your cousin. You're being ridiculous. The images you'll think of... Don't think of what I think you're about to think of. Imagine it though. I'd rather not, thanks. Too late. You imagined it.

     I kicked the gravel on the road with my Converses, trying to look anywhere but Stanley Barber's face. But I couldn't help it when a high-pitched creaking made me squirm and rub my ear; I looked up, and saw his window rolling down at the most agonisingly slow pace in the world. He continued to stare through his shades, giving a little smile here and there as he waited patiently. In one way, he was owning it, but in another, he seemed like he wanted the ground to swallow him up at any given moment. Admittedly, it was pretty amusing to watch.

     "What's he doing?" Liam whispered to Syd, as confused as I was.

     "Just wait."

     The window had just about reached halfway, when Stanley finally stopped rolling it down. He gave a charismatic nod, his chin tilted upwards as he looked at us. "Heeey." he greeted us simply, tapping his fingers in an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel.

     "Hey." Sydney replied.

     Liam chipped in too, with his own "Hi," and so did I. Through his shades it was hard to see his eyes, but I felt his gaze lingering on me for a few moments more than I maybe would have liked.

     "So, uh," Stanley pulled his sunglasses off over his head, his curls being brushed back and then rebounding back into place over his forehead. He narrowed his eyes at Sydney through the sun. "It's good to see you again."

     "Yeah. Yeah, you too," Sydney giggled, but not like the giggle that said 'I loved when you went down on me.' It was more like 'Where's a meteoroid hitting the Earth when you need one?'

     "You okay?" he asked. "How did last night go?"

     She didn't respond for a few seconds, and it wasn't until then that I realised he was talking to me. Of course. What did I think he was asking her about? Constructive feedback?

     "It was absolutely terrible."

     "Wait, really?"

     "The worst."

     "Oh... okay. Cool."

     His attention soon turned back to Sydney, and I continued drawing pictures in the dirt with my shoes.

     "So, do you wanna... do you wanna, like, do somethin' later tonight or somethin'?" he asked, peering up at her. To be fair to him, I did kind of feel for him. From all the times I'd talked to Sydney (which wasn't very many) about Stanley, all I got was the impression that she just wasn't interested in him.

     Therefore, as you can imagine, it came as a shock when I learned that she'd willingly let him 'go down' on her.

     God, I've really got to stop saying 'going down' on her. It sounds weirder and weirder every time.

     "You know, I would, but Dina and I are going to Ricky Berry's party." Sydney replied confidently.

     He laughed. "No shit! I'll be there too."

     "Oh, you will?"

     "Yeah."

     "Ah." she mumbled, absolutely defeated. "Right. Okay. So, I guess I'll see you there," she let out a manic laugh, before ushering Liam and I away. "And we've gotta go! Right now!"

     The minute we'd turned the corner, Liam tapped me on my arm. "What's the deal with her?"

     I shrugged, trying not to laugh as I watched Sydney power-walk away from the scene with purpose that I'd never seen before.

     "Don't worry, Liam. You'll understand when you're older."

________________________

A/N:

so... sorry if this chapter was kind of awkward to read at times, what with the sex talk and everything. but i thought it would be good to try and portray realistic insecurities that teenagers have about sex, because i know i can definitely relate to some of those doubts.

also, the thing with the "miller family joke", that wasn't originally gonna be a thing but then i realised maggie went by MILLER and not NOVAK a few weeks ago, and i was like "oh poop, what am i gonna do now?" but this worked out quite well, i think!

FINALLY, the gif at the beginning... 🥰🥰 i made it!! it's actually taken from this little video edit i made of stan & hallie to the song "nothing's gonna hurt you baby" by cigarettes after sex. the video isn't on youtube or anything so you can't see it (sorry) but i thought this was a fun way of showing you parts of it! there'll be more gifs from that to come...

song of the chapter: 'dancing with myself' - billy idol
(hallie/calvin/sydney/dina at the diner)

published: 18th april, 2020