Chapter Text
Jennifer's POV
Gym class always smelled like sweat, rubber, and that weird industrial floor polish that somehow seeped into your pores and stayed there for the rest of the day. I swear it didn’t matter how fast you showered; you still walked out smelling like a gym sock dipped in lemon disinfectant.
And I hated it. Every. Single. Second.
Coach Hill was pacing around like he was training us for the Olympics instead of eighth grade gym class. He always said stuff like “health is wealth” or “push yourselves, kids!” like we were supposed to care. He had this way of acting like being a “star athlete” was a personality trait you could unlock if you just tried hard enough.
Spoiler alert! I wasn’t trying.
Today was dodgeball, which was basically my personal hell. I, Jennifer Check, was not built for dodgeball. At all. I was built for cute outfits, good hair days, and not getting hit in the face by rubber balls thrown by sweaty boys who thought gym class was the Hunger Games.
So, I leaned against the bleachers, half watching the chaos, half counting down to summer. Four more days. Four more days until freedom. Me and Needy, Anita, when adults wanted to sound serious, were supposed to make this last middle school summer epic. We hadn’t planned anything yet, but that was beside the point. Epic things didn’t need planning.
All I knew was I needed the lake. Or any lake, honestly. Devil’s Kettle had like four things to do: Lake Superior, Devil’s Kettle Waterfall, and two other things I couldn’t remember because they were probably boring.
I was mid daydream when I heard someone clear their throat.
Dervin Michaels.
Ew. I rolled my eyes because I knew what was coming next.
He hovered near me like a nervous ghost. Pale skin, greasy hair, hunched shoulders. He could be cute if he ever saw sunlight or discovered shampoo, but he hadn’t, so here we were.
“Hey Jen, I—”
“It’s Jennifer,” I corrected instantly. Only Needy calls me Jen. That’s a rule.
“S s sorry, I was wondering if—”
Thank the gods, Needy finally walked out of the girls’ locker room.
“No thank you,” I said, already walking away. Not trying to be rude, but… okay, maybe a little rude.
Needy avoided eye contact like she’d been caught doing something.
“You whore, where have you been?” I said, half joking.
“I was so serious about not playing dodgeball I had to fake a period cramp,” she said. “Don’t hate me because you were too zoned out to notice.”
I gasped. She wasn’t wrong, I’d been zoning out a lot lately.
“You and I both know we would’ve gotten written up if I had,” I said.
“Just say you weren’t smart enough to think of it.”
I stared at her. Who did she become in those twenty seven minutes in the locker room?
Then I noticed it, the faint shimmer on her lips.
My lip gloss.
I’d left it at her house a month ago. I called it my “Needy’s House Gloss.” I wasn’t mad, just surprised she’d used it. Needy didn’t usually go for sticky things. Or pink things. Or anything that screamed me.
“Nice gloss,” I said with a smile.
Needy froze, brushing her mouth like she’d been caught stealing.
“I… forgot it was yours.”
“Forgot, huh? Or just liked it better on you?”
Her cheeks went pink. She didn’t answer.
“What are our plans for the summer?” she asked quickly. Deflecting. She was good at that.
“I have—”
Saved by the bell.
We walked to the locker rooms, another day of dodgeball successfully dodged. No pun intended.
Before we could leave, Coach Hill stopped us, trying to give us detention for “lack of participation.” But Needy whipped out her cramps excuse, and this time I was smart enough to piggyback.
“Yeah, same. My period cramps were too bad to do anything today. It’s a wonder I’m here.”
He dismissed us instantly. The word period was his kryptonite.
We finally made it to the locker room. Again, thank the gods, I needed out of those smelly clothes.
Needy finished changing first, and I spotted a familiar jean jacket.
My jacket.
It looked cute with her blue dress, white Converse, hair down, and our BFF necklace. I wasn’t mad, how could I be. It was Needy!
“Wow,” I grinned. “First my lip gloss, now my jacket. You really are needy for me.”
She laughed, thin and nervous.
“You told me I could wear it whenever.”
I’m sure I said something else as well.
“Well, you said I could wear it whenever I missed you.”
That’s it.
“But I don’t miss you. I see you every day. I just needed something to wear.”
Avoiding. Again. She never avoided things with me before.
We walked to our last class in comfortable silence. Barely made it on time.
Needy found her seat. No open seats near her. I spotted Dervin again.
“Dervin. Move.”
He practically flew to the front.
“Jennifer!” Needy whisper screamed.
“He tried to ask me out earlier. He’s fine,” I whisper screamed back.
It was true, he’d be fine. Just like all the boys that have tried and failed to talk to me.
Class blurred. Devil’s Kettle was the same as always too small, too boring, too full of kids who thought they were interesting when they weren’t. I catalogued classmates the way I always did when bored.
Needy was the only one who ever wanted to know me.
Finally, the school day ended. One down, four to go.
As we walked out of school, the sun hit us with that late spring warmth that made everything feel a little more dramatic than it needed to be. The kind of weather that made you think something big was supposed to happen, even if it was just Monday.
I had a brilliant idea.
“We’re going to go to—”
Needy frowned before I could finish. “I was hoping we’d plan our summer instead.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d been avoiding it. Not on purpose — okay, maybe a little on purpose — but mostly because every time I thought about summer, I thought about us. And every time I thought about us, I felt… something. I think. I didn’t really know what I felt, but it was new.
We argued lightly, the way we always did. I wanted one thing, she wanted another. Neither of us wanted to give in. We tried to compromise, failed, then settled it the way we always did: rock, paper, scissors.
“You two are like, lesbos or something!” Kylie Long yelled from across the courtyard.
Needy jumped like she’d been electrocuted.
I noticed. I noticed everything.
Kylie was still mad I “stole Needy” in third grade. Which was stupid, because I didn’t steal her, she was mine first. Kylie was a nobody anyway, the kind of girl who thought wearing a sparkly headband made her interesting.
“Fuck off!” I snapped.
Kylie shut up immediately. Good.
I turned back to Needy like nothing happened. “Now where were we? Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”
Paper beats rock.
I lost. Needy celebrated like she’d just won the Olympics. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing. Her smile was too contagious.
We started walking home, falling into that comfortable silence we always had. The kind that didn’t feel empty. The kind that felt like breathing.
Except today, it felt… different.
Not bad different. Just… new.
It was the little things. Quick glances. Walking a little closer than usual. Letting our hands brush and pretending it was an accident. Saying things that sounded like jokes but weren’t really jokes. Waiting to see if the other would react.
Neither of us knew what we were doing. We just knew something was shifting.
Before I could think too hard about it, Needy veered us into Devil’s Kettle’s Best Ice Cream Shoppe. That was literally the name of the place.
“I thought we were going to your house to plan our summer?” I asked.
“We are. But I want ice cream first.”
Fair.
She got her usual cherry. I got my strawberry vanilla swirl. We sat on the curb outside, legs stretched out, the sun warming our knees. Needy ate her ice cream like it was a mission. I ate mine like I was trying not to drip on my shoes.
When we finished, we headed to her house. Up to her room. She flopped onto her bed on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air. I sat cross legged on the floor, leaning back on my hands.
“Why is Kylie still holding a grudge?” Needy asked.
“Who knows, who cares.”
It was five years ago. She’d only befriended Kylie because I was going through a rough patch and being the meanest person alive. We stopped hanging out for like three weeks. She befriended Kylie. I apologized — one of the only two times I’ve ever apologized.
“My dad had just left,” I reminded myself silently. No contact. No goodbye. Just gone.
“I just feel bad,” Needy said, moping.
“Needy, you did nothing wrong. We were nine. And she knew you were MY best friend.”
I changed the subject before she could sink into guilt.
“So. Summer plans?”
Needy perked up like she’d been waiting for that exact question all day.
“Time capsule.”
I blinked. “That’s what you’ve been waiting to tell me?”
“Well, what’s your big idea?”
“The lakes. As much as possible.”
She rolled her eyes. “We go all the time.”
“Once or twice. I mean all summer. Work on our tans for high school. And you love the beach.”
She didn’t deny it.
“Well… I do love the beach,” she admitted. “But I was thinking we bury a time capsule for when we finish high school. Or college.”
“I didn’t say anything about going to college.”
She threw a pillow at me. It hit me square in the head. We burst out laughing.
“My point is, Jen — it’d be cool to dig up a capsule someday. All these old things that represent our friendship, our best friendship.”
She smiled softly, like she’d imagined that moment a million times.
“Fine. It’s on the list. But we’re sticking to the whole lake plan.”
“Next,” I said, “scary movie marathon.”
Needy gave me a look. “Why? I’m usually the one who has to get you to watch anything scary.”
“That’s not true! You always recommend Evil Dead. I always suggest Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, I Know What You Did Last Summer, The Blai—”
“Okay, okay. Add it. But we start summer with it. It’s in our best friend law book that we do a scary movie marathon every October.”
She wasn’t wrong. But I loved sharing a blanket, snacks, cuddling, getting so scared we couldn’t leave each other’s side for a week.
“Fine. Summer themed scary movies only. And we have to watch the actual scary parts this time.”
She looked terrified.
“It’s okay, Needy. I’ll protect you.”
She blushed again. I was losing count.
“Um… I was also thinking we go to the waterfall,” she said. “The one we’re told to stay away from because whatever goes in never comes out? We could take things we never want to see again.”
I grinned. “Needy, that’s probably the most exciting thing either of us has ever come up with.”
I tackled her onto the bed.
“Ouch, Jen!”
“Oh, shut up, you know you love me.”
She looked me in the eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” she said, blushing.
I let go and lay beside her. I thought about the day — the way she kept blushing. How many times did I make Needy blush today?
“Do you want to order pizza?” she asked. “My parents will be late. They always are on Mondays.”
“No, my mom’s cooking. Want to come home with me? Please?”
She smiled. “Sure. But we could’ve just gone to your house first. Is all I’m going to say”
We gathered our stuff and walked the ten minutes to my place. The silence shifted — not awkward, not empty. Heavier. Charged.
I felt like we were both noticing things. Noticing each other.
And neither of us knew what to do with that.
By the time we reached my house, the sky had shifted into that early evening gold that made everything look softer, like the world was trying to be gentle for once. My mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway yet, which meant we had a few minutes of quiet before she burst in with questions and casseroles.
Needy followed me inside like she’d done a thousand times. She didn’t even take her shoes off anymore, my mom gave up on that rule for her years ago. The house felt different when she was in it. Less empty. Less echoey. Less… lonely.
We dropped our bags in the hallway, and I could already smell whatever my mom had started cooking earlier. Something with garlic. Something warm. Something that made my stomach growl even though I’d just had ice cream.
Needy noticed. Of course she did.
“You hungry?” she asked.
“No,” I lied. “I’m fine.”
She gave me that look, the one that said she knew I was lying but wasn’t going to call me out on it. She was annoyingly good at that.
We went up to my room, and I flopped onto my bed while she sat on the floor, leaning against it. We always switched spots depending on whose house we were at. Some unspoken rule we’d made when we were five and never questioned.
For a minute, neither of us said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was… thick. Like we were both thinking the same thing but pretending we weren’t.
Needy picked at the hem of my jacket — still on her shoulders — and said, “Do you think we’ll actually do everything on our list?”
“Obviously,” I said. “We’re us. Plus, we didn’t plan too much, and we left room for spontaneity”
She smiled at that. A small smile, but real.
I rolled onto my stomach, chin in my hands. “What would you even put in the time capsule?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Stuff that matters.”
“Like what?”
“Like… pictures. Notes. Maybe our BFF necklaces.”
I gasped. “You’re not burying mine.”
“I didn’t say we had to bury them,” she said quickly. “Just… maybe copies.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re weird.”
“You’re mean.”
We both laughed.
But underneath it, something tugged at me. Something warm and uncomfortable and confusing. Something that made me want to stare at her and look away at the same time.
Needy leaned her head back against the bed, looking up at me. “Do you ever think about high school?”
“No,” I said immediately. “Why would I?”
“I don’t know. It’s just… different. New people. New classes. New everything.”
“Yeah, but we’ll still be us,” I said. “We’re not going to suddenly stop being best friends just because some new girl shows up with a sparkly binder.”
She laughed, but it sounded nervous. “I know. I just… think about it sometimes.”
“Well don’t,” I said, flicking her forehead lightly. “You’re stuck with me.”
She rubbed her forehead, smiling. “Okay.”
We fell into silence again. This time it felt heavier. Not bad heavy. Just… real.
I watched her fingers trace the stitching on my jacket sleeve. Slow. Careful. Like she was memorizing it.
And I thought about the lip gloss. And the jacket. And the way she jumped when Kylie said what she said. And the way she blushed every time I teased her today. And the way she looked at me now. Soft, like she was seeing something she wasn’t supposed to.
I didn’t know what any of it meant. I didn’t have the words for it. I didn’t even know if I wanted the words.
But I knew it mattered.
Before I could say anything — not that I knew what I would’ve said — the front door opened downstairs.
“Girls?” my mom called.
Needy stood up quickly, brushing off her dress. “Should we go help?”
“Yeah,” I said, hopping off the bed. “She’ll ask a thousand questions if we don’t.”
We headed downstairs together, shoulder to shoulder, our arms brushing every few steps. Each time it happened, something fluttered in my stomach. Something I pretended not to notice.
My mom smiled when she saw Needy. “Oh good, you’re staying for dinner!”
Needy smiled back, polite and sweet. “If that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay,” my mom said, already pulling out extra plates.
I watched them talk — my mom fussing, Needy nodding — and something settled in my chest. Something warm. Something safe.
This was normal. This was us. This was everything we’d always been.
But it was also… changing.
Not in a bad way. Just in a way I didn’t understand yet.
As we sat down for dinner, Needy’s knee brushed mine under the table. She didn’t move away.
And neither did I.