Today has been surreal, all of the usual routines interrupted by Friday’s blow out. Mandy was waiting in our normal seats on the transport this morning. I sat up front. After second period she tried to talk to me, and I just walked away from her. At lunch I didn’t even bother to go out to the yard, holing myself up in the cafeteria and eating practically by myself.

I am more hurt than I care to admit by this whole turn of events. I’m not ready to talk to Mandy, much less forgive her. She has the nerve to give me a hard time about hiding what happened to me from the school, and then can’t tell her father “suck it up, I’m dating a gemue.” Seems hypocritical.

With no socialization at lunch, I finish well before the bell sounds and head for my locker.

Trying to concentrate in class has been futile; my brain just isn’t with it. I should have called the day a wash and asked permission to stay home. Mom and Dad probably would have denied me, not considering a broken heart worth missing a day at school.

And every time I see Mandy I get upset all over again.

Drawing a breath and sighing, I slow and then stop as my locker comes into view. Letting my backpack drop to my feet, I fight with the tumbler, nearly tearing the door off in my frustration. As it is, the metal bangs loudly into the next, and echoes down the hall.

I muffle a curse under my breath before dragging my bag up to waist level and pinning it there with one hip while I transfer books into the locker, and remove the necessary texts for the remaining periods of the day into the quickly wearing sack. I’m oblivious to the sounds, smells, and sights around me. All of my senses seem to be stuck in a fog, right along with my usual ability to absorb lessons and seem like I’m not paying attention. Today it’s all about extra effort, to move, to think, and the combination has given me one heck of a headache.

Slamming my locker closed with as much force as I opened it with, I spin the combination lock with a compulsory twist and turn towards the hall. I nearly run down the person who had snuck in behind me while I was lost in the stuffy atmosphere of my locker.

“Andrea!” I pull up short, just before I smash her dainty sandaled toes with my oversized feet.

“Hi Michael.” She smiles. I somehow expected her to pounce on me for details about Mandy’s and my blowout, but her smile is the same; there is nothing anxious in her expression. The emotion, and the greeting, is genuine.

More slowly I sling the strap of my pack across my left shoulder. “How are you?”

Another compulsory action, I don’t really feel up to listening to other’s moods or adventures. But I’m too polite to just walk away from a girl who’s done nothing bad to me ever.

“I’m good. Got a test today, but I’ve prepared for it, so I think I’ll be all right.”

I wave the little bit of worry I hear in her voice away, grinning crookedly. “You’ll probably ace it again. Have you ever gotten anything less than a B?”

Her smile broadens. “When I was five.”

I attempt a whistle, failing; forgetting that saw-edged teeth really make the effort moot. “Wish I could say the same.”

“You could. I know you’re smart.” Her eyes start to take on that overeager brightness that accompanies her puppyish fascination with me.

“Thanks. I’m doing all right, though. With all this extra time I’ve spent in classes the past few months, my grades have come up quite a bit.”

“See!” Andrea shoulders my arm, nearly making me lose my backpack to the floor. As it is, the weight of it hits her in the back and nearly sends her sprawling.

“Crap!” I catch her before she goes completely over, pulling her back up right, even as my right hand resets the backpack in its proper place along my shoulder blade. “Sorry ‘bout that. You all right?”

Andrea’s hand covers her mouth, but snickers still escape through her nose. “Don’t I feel stupid,” she giggles. Her freckled skin has gone scarlet again with her embarrassment.

“Naw, that was my fault.” Now I’m grinning. I think it’s the first time I’ve found actual humor in a week.

“Like you booby trapped your backpack on purpose? I didn’t think you were that cruel, Michael.”

“Well no…but…”

“My fault.” She smiles broadly. “And don’t try to contradict me.”

“Fine, you’re fault.” I throw up my hands in surrender. Stuffing my hands into my back pockets and shaking my head, I bask in the glow of a good emotion for a while. It only lasts until I catch a glimpse of Mandy, and then my expression flattens out.

Andrea’s not so oblivious as not to notice.

“You two okay?”

I blink and peer over at her, but don’t answer her question.

“I didn’t see you at the dance very long.”

“No,” it escapes me as a disappointed sigh, “I left right after…we had an argument.”

“She stayed for a while,” Andrea reports.

“Oh?” The knife in my chest twists, causing me pain again. The betrayal would be complete if she had a good time without me.

“But she never left the table. She wouldn’t talk to us when we came back. Corbin and I ended up staying away more than sitting. After about an hour she was gone too. What happened?”

Somehow, knowing that Mandy was hurt by the conversation as well muffles my own pain. All she had to do was tell him, it would be simple. People spouted hypothetical nonsense all the time, contradicting themselves as soon as the situation for which they were so adamant actually presents itself to their lives. Sure her dad may have said that her dating a gemue was taboo, but would he really act that way if he knew?

I’d like to think not, just by my association with him over the course of the rallies we’ve both attended.

“Michael?” Andrea’s voice cuts through my mental tail chasing.

“Sorry.” My grin turns apologetic.

Before we can carry on more conversation the warning bell rings.

“Oh!” Andrea peers at her watch. “Well, guess we can talk another time.”

“Sure. Good luck on your test – not that you need it.”

“Thanks, Michael. Take care of yourself.”

I let out another sigh, “I’m trying.”

Over the next week, I find that confiding my worries with my usual friends is hard. Most of them are just as much friends with Mandy as they are with me, and I fear that what I tell them will get back to her. It doesn’t help that they keep trying to convince me to take her back, to forgive her for doing what she thought was best for us both.

I can’t quite see their logic, nor hers, and I have taken to avoiding them if I can just to get away from the badgering. She’s the one who messed up and they all seem to be making me out to be the bad guy.

I’m stubborn, but I’m not stupid. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for her to be honest with her family about us. After all, if he finds out later it’s only going to get worse.

More and more, I find myself talking to Andrea about my issues. She’s a sympathetic ear, she never criticizes my choice, and while she doesn’t support Mandy’s position, she doesn’t badmouth her either. Some of my least familiar friends have taken to Mandy bashing, and that makes me as angry as the original act of betrayal. Trisha’s on that bandwagon too, which doesn’t help. I don’t hate Mandy. I just think she’s being stupid. Andrea seems to understand that fine line, and makes sure she doesn’t cross it when we talk. To find Andrea remains neutral on the matter actually makes her that much easier to discuss my problems with her.

She’s actually made me see some things I hadn’t considered before.

The weather has gotten colder, and most of the students remain indoors throughout the day. The cafeteria is packed, the noise rising to the rafters and spilling out through the doors to the outside. An entrance is propped open, because the heat of so many bodies has become oppressive, and the amount of fog dampened clothes comes across our noses as musty. There is a very disparate cycle of heat and bone chilling cold as the wind plays through the doorway.

“So, Michael,” Andrea draws my attention away from my disjointed thoughts. “I heard there’s a swim meet tonight, are you going?”

“I’m part of the team,” I rest my cheek on my fist, “so, it’s compulsory that I go, even if they won’t let me compete.”

“That really sucks you know.”

“What’s that?”

“That they won’t let you be an active member in the meets.” Kelly and Corbin echo the sentiment, even when I know they’re only tolerating Andrea because of me.

I grin at her and lean a little closer. “I have a very unfair advantage.” I spread my fingers out in front of her eyes. “See? Not really fair to the humans, besides I can breathe water, no drag, because I don’t have to break surface.”

She flushes. “Still.”

“I do it more for something to keep in shape with than to compete, anyway.” I shrug and look away. “I don’t blame them. I still go to support my teammates. Besides, it’s psychological – the opposition sees me and get really nervous – spend the whole meet trying to figure out when I’m getting put in.”

Andrea raises a brow and giggles. “Do they make you get into uniform?”

“Well the mind game doesn’t work if I’m in civilian clothes – so, yeah.”

“I think I want to see that.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

The hint would have been hard to miss; it was the size of a barn.

“Well it starts at six. We could always use the fans.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Great.” Now I’m wishing I was actually competing.

I peer over at Corbin and Kelly, both of whom have raised eyebrows, and barely concealed incredulity on their faces. They don’t seem to like where things are going, because it means that Mandy gets forgotten.

I need to forget her.

Andrea glances down at her bag, “Oh, man, I forgot to get my books for the last two periods. I better run.”

She leaps to her feet and nearly knocks down one of the kids in the crowded aisle.

“See you tonight Michael.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She weaves through the other students with a bounce in her step.

“Be careful, Michael.” Corbin immediately throws in. Andrea hasn’t even gotten out of view yet.

I meet his gaze and frown. “Careful?”

“Dude, seriously, she is desperate for you.”

My brow furrows. “I know she’s got a crush on me, so what.”

“No man, it goes way beyond crush,” Kelly chimes in. “Tell her, Corbin.”

Corbin leans closer and I swivel all the way around.

“Dude, you remember how in elementary school the girls would write their little love notes in their books about the boys they thought were cute?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was helping her pick up her books the other day…your name takes up an entire section of her notebook. It’s obsessive.”

“I think you guys are exaggerating.”

“I don’t think we are.” Kelly tries to be the voice of reason. “Think about it…you saved her from M219, you’re the reason she’s still alive. She’s got a very big Nightingale syndrome for you. I think she would do anything to make you her boyfriend.”

“Boy toy,” Corbin corrects.

“And you’re on the rebound. That isn’t a good time to be involved with someone else.”

“Like you guys are such experts on women and dating,” I scoff. “How can I be on a rebound, anyway? Mandy and I hardly qualified as going steady.”

“We’ve seen how you’ve been moping around school, Michael. And you’re going for the first girl who pays you decent attention. She makes you feel better, and you already look at her like there’s more there than friendship.”

“It’s nothing, guys, really. She’s a sweet girl – so give it a rest.”

Both Kelly and Corbin lean back and then look at each other. “Fine.”

“C’mon guys, don’t think I don’t see what this really is.”

“And what’s that?” Corbin is beginning to look angry.

“Don’t make me say it; we’ve had this argument before.”

“This is not about Mandy!” Kelly snarls, and it is more anger than I’ve ever heard from him. “It’s about you making a poor decision in the face of a very recent heartbreak.”

“Okay, whatever. I need to go.” I rise from my seat. Waving at the two of them, both of whom look miffed, I take off.

Call it pride, but I disregard my friends’ advice.

The weather has become bitterly cold, and it has only been a couple of hours since school let out. Just the walk from Mom’s car to the pool has me huddling into my jacket, a precaution I need very rarely. The thermometer in her rearview mirror said that it had already dropped into the thirties. It was going to be a very cold night. The fog was absent tonight, which probably accounted for the lower temperatures. Between the two I think I’ll take the chill over the fog.

Stepping inside the pool building, there is a definitive difference – like fifty degrees or so. A lot of my team is already here, stretching and wetting down, doing slow warm up laps along the pool’s fifteen lanes. Most of them greet me, there are a few however who still treat me like I’m here to usurp their spot.

“Coach?” I ask as I walk up to Mr. Hampstead.

“Good evening, Michael,” He greets me. He’s one who tries to sound friendly, but he has that cold edge in his eyes that tells me he doesn’t like me taking a place of the humans on the team. It makes me wonder why the man let me come back in the first place.

“Do you mind if I take a swim before the meet starts?”

He eyes the water and the other teammates and then assesses me for possible motive.

“I just want to get wet.” I sigh. “I’ll take it easy.”

Hampstead purses his lips and after more deliberation nods slowly. “Try not to show off.”

I head off the frown that tries to work up on my lips. “Of course not.”

Like the first thing I want to do is to draw more attention to myself to a crowd that either wants to put me on a pedestal or kick it out from under me – with a noose around my neck. I move over to our team’s designated bench for home meets and start stripping out of my athletic suit. It took me a while to get over the idea of showing my skin to people after I was found out. Our men’s team doesn’t wear full body suits like Olympic swimmers do, we wear Speedos. Such an outfit doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination.

People don’t look twice when a tan line or two shows, but when the demarcation between skin tones looks like I slept belly down on a chair for hours, it draws stares and strange conjecture. Already self-conscious about all the fervor around my presence in school, the idea of drawing more with my strange coloring – and more so to the beaded texture – was not comfortable.

I stretch, but make it a quick set, because my time is limited before the pool will be cleared to prepare it for the competition.

I step to the closest end of the pool, picking a lane that isn’t already in use by one of my normal teammates. Without slowing I make a gracefully flat leap that shoots me under the surface and about a dozen feet down the length of the pool before I rise towards the surface. Starting to kick, I break surface, pretending to be a regular swimmer among the rest. Keeping my gills closed, I force myself into freestyle. Every fourth stroke I take a breath through my mouth and release it underwater as I go for the beginning dig. I take my time, keeping my fingers folded, kicking just enough to keep me moving forward without zipping down to the opposite end.

When I reach the opposite end I make the turn, but flip over as I rise and come up doing the backstroke. I keep my eyes on the markings on the ceiling, timing how close I’m coming to the end of the pool once again. As the final marker passes above my head I throw my chin back and arch my body as if going for the finish. As my fingers bend deeply in contact with the wall, I see an upside down portrait of Andrea standing at the edge of the pool and leaning over.

I roll over without losing contact with the surface, and throw my arm up over the lip of the pool. “Hey! I see you made it.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Even if I’m not swimming?” I wipe the water draining off my blond curls out of my face and blink to get her face to focus.

“Funny, you look like you’re swimming to me.”

I smile and then peer back, seeing the other guys and gals getting out of the water. A referee is headed my direction.

“Look out.” I warn my audience as I dip my shoulders below the surface and lever myself up onto the edge. She jumps back as I sling water further onto dry concrete, adding dark spots to her outfit.

“Hey!” She mutters.

“I did warn you.”

“Yeah,” she brightens quickly, “you did.”

I catch her in the middle of a full bore visual once over of my body. When Andrea realizes she’s been caught, she flushes, making her freckles disappear once again.

“What?”

Her grin stretches wide. “You have definitely got the body they said you did.”

It’s my turn to blush. “What? Who?”

“Some of the other girls.” She nods over towards some of my female teammates.

“Ah.” That only makes the embarrassment worse.

“You’ve got a body the other boys would kill to have.”

“Yeah, right, they tell me all the time how much they want to be a gemue just like me.”

Andrea slaps at my upper arm splattering more water on herself and up into my face. “You know what I mean.”

“Not really.” I wander over to the bench and gather my towel, making a rudimentary effort to dry off.

Coach interrupts before we can say more. “You’re friend’s going to have to go up in the stands with the other spectators, Michael.”

“Yes, Coach.” I gently cup her shoulder and wave her up into the stands. “Sorry, he’s right. They’re getting ready to start the meet. No spectators on the swim deck.”

“Can I see you afterwards?”

Corbin and Kelly’s words come back to haunt me momentarily. I let go of the squirrelly feeling in my gut and nod. “Yeah, but you have to wait until the other team leaves.”

“I’ll be watching you from the stands then.”

“Do what? Warm the bench?”

Andrea shrugs. “It won’t be a bad view if you promise not to put your shirt back on.”

My brow rises.

She dashes off before my brain can work that over enough for a response. Stunned to inaction, it takes one of my teammates slugging me in the shoulder – to remind me we’re in a public place – and I’m standing here half-naked and still dripping, with a towel hanging from my claws. More quickly I dry the rest of the way off and put my sweat suit back on. I’m hoping Andrea was kidding about that last part, yet I’m not going to encourage her.

The meet goes by in slow motion, as it usually does for me, punctuated by a few bright moments as our relay team beats out the competition, and our women’s team takes overall point lead. The men’s team loses – even when the points come close – and secretly I know was I allowed, it would be the other way around.

Pipe dream.

The two teams form the post meet lines, shaking hands with the members of the opposite team. I don’t even bother joining them, it’s not like they’d shake my hand anyway. I do start heading for the door, fishing through my gym bag for my net set so I can call my parents for a ride. Catching a flash of movement to my left, I find Andrea has bolted through the thin crowd and is now standing at my side. Tugging on my sleeve, she gets me to slow and then stop.

“What’s your hurry?”

I look to the phone in my hand, shrug, and then stuff the device in the pocket of my jacket. “None, I guess.”

She pulls me over nearer the wall, and I lean my back into it. Andrea stands before me, her expression amazingly neutral, which makes me more uncomfortable, and I glance away. I watch the last of my teammates, celebrating and commiserating, file out the pool house doors. With the exception of the clean up crew, we’re now the only people in the building.

“Do you like me, Michael?” Andrea whispers that, drawing my gaze back to her. The look on her face tells me she’s waiting for rejection.

“Yeah, I like you.” I give her a crooked smile, and my voice shoots higher. It’s a dead giveaway that it’s a silly question. “Trust me, I don’t hang out with people I don’t like.”

“I like you, too.” She grins and drops her gaze. The way Andrea says “like” tells me it’s more than that for her. “I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Michael,” a frown works over her face and her eyes take on a wide glassy look, “why won’t you kiss me?”

“What?” The single word escapes me as a sigh of sound. More acerbic responses escape me, or I ignore them, because she is being dead serious.

“Kiss me.”

Andrea leans into me, stringing her fingers through my hair and pushing up on her toes. Her lips smother any form of protest, and the heat of her body pressed to mine gets an immediate and unsolicited response.

A/N: Yeah I know, another cliffie ending...I don't REALLY want to reveal where this is going until we get to next chapter, and I couldn't really figure out a better way to end this part without sounding very cliche...

As it was this chapter took me way longer than I expected it to. Mostly because it is a transition chapter, and I had to find a plausible way to get Andrea and Michael together without it sounding rushed or forced (Which it may still sound). So please let me know if this chapter works for you. I know where I'm going, sometimes I just get a little sidetracked along the way.

NEXT UP: I can't really tell you without spoiling the plot twist coming...sorry! You'll just have to tune in next time!