e l s e w h e r e

time: 2:15pm

starter: @ba-central​ ( open )

Ella wasn’t totally sold on the cabins. She loved the idea of being out in the woods, delving into the trees for winding walks with her notebook and a bomb-ass writing playlist. But the romantic allure of the greenery and scent of soil faded when she had to return to a cramped bunk room with five brand new mosquito bites and no internet to download the audible release of Little Women. Her opinion, however, had shifted the moment she’d seen a white and black circled tail vanishing into the depths beneath her cabin. “Oh my god.” She’d already yanked her backpack off her shoulders, shoving her way through a contained catastrophe of math assignments, paperback books, and an array of gel-colored pens for the emergency snack living at the bottom of the bag. Probably a few months old, deformed from having melted, reformed, and melted again, Ella’s fingers were sticky with chocolate as soon as she peeled back the wrapper. She gave little heed to the inconvenience, dropping to her knees and holding the bar out. A token of friendship. The school might have disallowed pets in the dorms, but how could they argue with nature. The raccoon would be their mascot. Wendy and Harlan would love it. And Ella could already hear Kat shrieking. It wasn’t a tiktok of a cute cow with a flower crown, but in Ella’s opinion, it was infinitely better.

“pstpstpst.” It was the same sound Ella made when trying to summon the stray cats that would occasionally wander through Broadripple’s campus. She gave the protein bar what she hoped would be a tantalizing wave. She gave little heed to the twigs crunching behind her, far too focused on the mission at hand to be distracted. “There’s a raccoon,” she whispered, squinting into the dark pit beneath the cabin.

                                           ⏤ meet ella

BASICS

name: eloise “ella” grace dawson

Age: 17

Grade: sophomore

House: seton

Cabin Room: cabin 2, room 1

How long have they been at Broadripple: a year and a half

Where are they from originally: boston, ma

Extra curricular: swim team member, women of broadripple, chamber choir

TRAITS

Positive Personality Traits: daring, imaginative, friendly, fun-loving, thrill-seeking

Neutral Personality Traits: romantic, inquisitive, book-worm, theater geek, fantastical, talkative, curious

Negative Personality Traits: impulsive, careless, immature, pushy,

FACTS

ella never wanted to attend broadripple. she was sent to the school due to her parent’s inability to control her rebellious behavior

the final straw for her parent’s was ella’s involvement with a rather unsavory young man, one too many nights sneaking out her bedroom window, and two one-way tickets to new york hidden in her blue journal.

ella is technically a middle child but was raised as the eldest. her older brother is a half-sibling from her father’s relationship with a woman proceeding his marriage to her mother. it’s something of a scandal and remains a tense knot in the dawson family dynamic. regardless, ella has always gotten along well with  both of her siblings. due to restricted contact with her parents and little brother, most of ella’s correspondence is with her older half-brother.

ella has always loved to swim. it was once a hobby that brought her and her father together. however, as ella has grown older her father’s expectations for her performance have also inclined. split between an unspoken and unrecognized desire to please her father and the uncompromising weight of his standards, ella’s love for swimming as faltered. she switches from being a determined and competitive teammate to a lax participant content to enjoy the pool as a recreational activity rather than a sport

it was not ella’s choice to participate in the women of broadripple club. her father’s strong encouragement ( what others may call threats ) pushed ella into dragging her feet into one of the meetings. although she wouldn’t otherwise admit it, ella actually enjoys women of broadripple, mostly when they listen to her obviously amazing ideas. while she might complain about how boring the meetings are, she genuinely enjoys the time she shares with the girls at her school.

ella’s deepest passion has always been books. ever since she was small she was an avid reader, perusing her father’s library and climbing on her mother’s lap so the two could spend the afternoon reading together on the parlor sofa. stories came to her with the same ferocity and ease. before she could write, ella was telling stories. to her older brother, her younger brother, her parents, to the trees in the backyard, students on the playground, and her darkened ceiling in the middle of the night. her mother still holds on to a spiral notebook filled with ella’s first attempts at ‘stories,’ a jumbled mish-mash of letters that didn’t form real words, but ella would fervently assure were telling a story ( and thus would promptly rehearse her most recent magnum opus )

ella attempts all genres but her most frequent is fiction. although, as of late she has made more attempts at poetry and a few meager attempts at song writing at the encouragement of her swim captain, damian fitzgerald.

ella lives for the rush. it prompts her reckless behavior, rule breaking, and frequent ‘explorations’ out of the dorms ( or cabins ) after lights out. it also fuels her love for acting and theater. although she doesn’t have any lofty aspirations for becoming an actress, she lives for the opportunity to perform on stage, study a character and embody them for an audience. she considers it a study for her own literary pursuits as well as a hobby she can enjoy shamelessly, as her father has been content to keep his hands out of it.

HEADCANONS

ella’s favorite artist is Daughter. don’t even get her started on it because there is a high probability it will make her emotional. she actually owns all the CDs daughter has released and keeps them in a decorative box under her bunk. an ‘emergency stash’ in the unfortunate case of a zombie apocalypse that takes out her spotify account in the wake of complete fallout.

ella has a favorite bracelet. she is almost never seen without it, although she will occasionally put the bracelet in the pocket of her backpack if teachers are being especially obnoxious about the dress code. it has an adjustable wrist with a silver sparrow figure.

ella always, always has her light blue moleskine journal on hand. it’s messy, filled to the brim with sketches, quotes, lyrics, ideas she haphazardly wrote on the corner of her chemistry notes, pictures etc. the original strap is worn down with use and as a result ella has macgyvered an additional ribbon onto the journal to keep it secure. it is her most prized possession. she is very secretive with its contents and will go out of her way to keep it hidden from prying eyes. she can often be seen hunched over it, scribbling away, far more involved with the world she is creating on the page than the one surrounding her.

her favorite food is cinnamon rolls. rather than eating cake on her birthday, her mother baked a pan of home made cinnamon rolls drizzled with creamy icing. the closure of the copper kettle was particularly devastating because it meant the loss of the best cinnamon rolls in the area. sure, the local bakery had decent enough cinnamon rolls, but they were never quite as good. as a connoisseur of cinnamon rolls, ella holds her opinion on the subject in high regard.

ella deeply enjoys singing but is rather shy about it. while she may participate in chamber choir, she’s more a supporting vocalist and little more. despite every aspect of herself being unabashed and open, ella is very secretive with her singing. the only time she has ever had any form of ‘solo’ was with damian fitzgerald after a night of drinking. although she looks back on the event with some embarrassment, it has encouraged her to try to be a more confident performer and incorporate singing into more of her creative works

the transition from the dorms to the cabins has caused a bit of a shift in ella’s writing as of late. with so many strange occurrences piling up, ella finds the subject of her prose leaning towards macabre portrayals of hungry, consumptive woods and sudden vanishings. although ella has playfully teased freshman with a few spooky variations of the edith lynch tale, she mostly only ‘believed’ in the story because it was more exciting than letting it be little more than small-town folklore. now she finds herself leaning into the rumors more and more, although her motivations are rather self-serving, seeking inspiration for her writing and other projects rather than genuine concern.

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE RETREAT

What do they think about The Retreat? 

Ella has mixed emotions about the retreat. she’s excited to finally have an excuse to be off campus, but bemoans the lack of wifi and other luxuries she’s always taken for granted. in spite of being a self-proclaimed lover of adventure, she has little experience with camping. she has enjoyed day-hikes, but long stretches of time in cabins is very out of her element. family vacations included hotels, European cities and sandy beaches, not centipedes, several students to a room, and mosquitos. there are times where ella enjoys and thrives in the environment, making the best of her situation, clowning about with her peers, or digging into her writing. there are also times where she wishes she could cuddle up in her air-conditioned dorm room and binge-watch avatar: the last airbender on netflix with wendy sanderson without risking a spiderbite.

Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors?

ella has 0 experience camping. she has gone on day-hiking trips and brief vacation to mountain resorts, but it has always been a very upscale experience.

What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space?

ella decorated her space as much as she could to make it feel like her own. she has pictures and quotes pinned up on the wall along with a few glow-in-the-dark stars ( each with their own made-up constellation ). she strung up a few paper lanterns from her dorm room and always has a flashlight handy for late night reading under the covers. above her bed, either on the ceiling or the bottom of the mattress above her, ella has secured a tapestry of the night sky. as an individual with many books, she’s had to be creative with her storage. she has one ‘shelf’ she made out of command hooks and a cloth bag that contains her ‘current reads’ and rests on the wall closest to her head. the others are stored beneath the bunk or in a duffle bag.

Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree?

ella believes in mermaids, aliens and changelings more than she believes in demons or bigfoot. and even then she believes in them in a whimsical, day-dreaming sort of way rather than as a scientific pursuit. in a sense, she ‘believes’ in things because of how they make her feel rather than genuinely believing in them. she doesn’t want to prove such things exist. she finds far more enjoyment in the mystery of it all. that being said, recent events have shifted her perspective a bit. although ella plays it cool, she is unnerved about everything going on in her school. although a rather brave girl, being in the woods has shaken her more than she initially thought. for how much she’s fantasized about running off into the darkness herself, now that she’s halfway there she’s beginning to doubt her willingness to leave the security of four brick walls and a sturdy gate behind.

Are they easily spooked?

not exactly. in fact, ella is more likely to investigate something ‘spooky’ rather than flee. if another person scares her, she’s more likely to react with laughter and teasing than to be upset. but she does get spooked by strange shadows or sounds, often enflamed by her overactive imagination. she just choses to face her fear as an opponent rather than flee from it.

AND FINALLY

A very dumb but (hopefully) fun quiz made by your admins, please share what result you got

Griffin had already been fully informed on Brent and this Friday night date, more than he ever wanted to be or had invited Ella into telling him. For what it was worth, he had tried sounding supportive, even if that mostly amounted to sarcastic phrases like, ‘Wow, he sounds like a charmer.’ In that moment, he barely made an effort to hide the relief on his face that Ella was waltzing back to the dining hall to sit across from him rather than in the passenger seat of Brent’s 2003 Toyota Corolla.

“The fact that your conversations got into Sapphic poetry at all is a modern fucking miracle,” Griffin commented, leaning back in his chair and looking Ella over. She was naturally pretty, but she had clearly zhuzh-ed herself up that night. He tilted his head, casually stabbing faded gray flakes of tuna with his fork. 

“It barely meets the criteria for ‘edible’. You, however, look –” Griffin skidded into a stop. What was he going to say there? Had his brain planned for this? What could he possibly end this sentence with that wouldn’t make everything completely awkward? “ – like you should be eating something nicer than last week’s casserole.”

Good job, Griffin. Solid save.

“Shame you wasted it on Brent the living dick pic. Did you at least get something incriminating from him that we can laugh about? I’ll share my Broadripple mush with you in return.”

Ella wasn’t completely oblivious. She knew Griffin hadn’t been into Brent, but Griffin wasn’t into most people. It was one of his most defining character traits, one she had adapted to over their friendship. It was their way. Ella once described it in a poem as being two different phases of water. Griffin was like ice, she was free-flowing water. They had different constitutions, but Ella liked to think that underneath it they were made of the same thing, whatever it was. And like water, she had a stubborn knack for wearing him down over time. 

“Yeah,” Ella winced. “I kinda had to push for that. It was the only way to make him stop sending me pictures with his shirt off.” It was probably for the best. Ella liked to think that she’d be capable of fending off some pervy teenage boy should the need arise, but she felt appreciative of the fact that it wasn’t something she’d have to look out for. “I honestly think he thought I was talking about a saxophone,” she laughed.

He caught her attention, eyes snapping from the flakey lump on his plate to his. There was a lingering in-between one phrase and the next. The kind of unknown that held a volume Ella couldn’t put a name to or describe. Only that it made her chest tight.

Ella let out a breathy laugh at his response, looking down at her floral printed dress. Did she feel...disappointed? She sidestepped the thought immediately. “Thank you...I think.” An awkward response to an awkward semi-compliment. She straightened up in her seat, folding her arms. “You know, I feel like that tuna casserole is probably kind of toxic, so if you want we could go eat somewhere.”

Ella gave him a wry grin, picking up her chair and scooting it closer to him so they could easily hide her phone from view. Before she turned it towards him, she held her phone to her chest, concealing its contents from his view. “First, give me the mush. I’ve gotta gauge what level of incrimination we’re at.”

“Hey, I don’t take my bat out for just anyone.”

Ella’s comment reminded him that baseball season was just around the corner and that he’d have to pull himself together real soon. There was no way he’d misrepresent his hometown by looking like some schlub on the pitch. Princeton had nothing going for it but coal and baseball after he’d tried the pizza bagels at Broadripple. It was just a matter of putting the guitar down and getting his head in the game, something proving to be harder than he thought it’d be.

“Somerville High, a public school. Oooh,” Johnnie teased, laughing a little at the way that came out of his mouth. He never thought he’d be one to look down on public schooling until he was no longer in it. “You were really tryna slum it with the normies, huh?” 

He followed suit and popped his juice box, taking a good sip to wash down tuna with strawberry punch. “No really, though. How’d you meet ‘im?”

“Aw, thanks Johnnie. Good to know I’m worthy of a brutal beating.” Ella teased him but there was a genuine appreciation that he cared.

Ella folded her knees, pulling her denim jacket off and dropping it on the table beside her. “When does baseball season start, anyway? I’ll have to come watch you play sometime.” Maybe she could even convince Griff they should write something about it for Broadripple Uncensored. He’d think it was stupid. Probably too journalistic. But Ella had been wanting to dip her toes into creative nonfiction for a while.

“Okay, listen.” Ella laughed, pointing at him with the juice-box. “Believe it or not I used to slum it with public school normies all the time. I got along with them better than the people at my old school.” And that had been part of the problem. A couple too many friends from the wrong friends in the wrong places mixed with a few very ill-advised life choices and she’d been shipped out of Boston with a crisp uniform and too-small shoes.

Ella sighed, mostly because she knew it was stupid. Even for her. “Just online.” And by online she meant he’d randomly followed her on Instagram. “So I honestly should have expected he’d either, A: be a creep,” she held up her fingers to count, “or B: completely flake.” 

AirPods  were  the  new  thing  it  seemed,  and  every  since  Max  got  his  pair,  they’ve  basically  turned  into  diamond  earrings  to  him,  they  rarely  ever  left  his  ears.  But  he  removed  them  long  enough,  and  just  in  the  nick  of  time  to  hear  a  girl  in  distress,  or  so  he  thought,  it  was  nothing  short  of  the  Bat  Signal  to  him.

“Good  to  know,  their  entire  swim  program  can  suck  a  dick,”  he  retaliated,  not  sharing  very  fond  memories  of  them  in  his  earlier  days  at  Broadripple.  “And  who  the  fuck  is  Sappho?”  He  added,  she  did  say  it  as  if  he  was  supposed  to  know  who  they  were.  He  halted  any  further  responses  as  he  actually  lifted  his  head  up  from  his  phone,  nodding  in  approval,  because  that’s  what  every  girl  wants  from  Max  Perry.  “You  look  good,”  he  mused,  genuinely  too.  “Can’t  believe  you  perked  your  cookies  all  the  way  up  for  some  guy  like,  three  towns  over.  He  must  look  like  me.”

His  attention  turned  to  the  plate  of  the  sad  excuse  for  a  meal,   and  frowned  as  well.  “I  don’t  know,  you  wanna  give  it  a  try?”  He  said  taking  the  apple  juice  of  the  tray  and  sliding  it  towards  her.  “I’d  be  nothing  short  of  suicidal  putting  that  in  my  body.”

The interruption was enough to tear Ella’s attention away from her friend. Her eyes narrowed, an amused smile ghosting over her lips. “Been a while, Max.” She’d been to enough of the BBC’s weekend parties to recognize him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, she’d rallied for him on the swim team just as much as she would have for the rest of her teammates. “Understatement. Remember when we fucking annihilated them in the freestyle relay?” The memory widened her smile. It seemed like ages ago. In some ways it was - a vestige of her first year at the school. Time had changed him since then. Whether it was time or sliding up the ranks of the BBC, Ella didn’t know, but he had the attitude of an overconfident peacock, which simultaneously amused and annoyed her, and a penchant for troublemaking. And if Ella ever was anything, it was a trouble maker.

Ella could pretend to be disappointed that Max didn’t know who Sappho was, but in all honesty, Ella enjoyed any opportunity she had to talk. Especially when it involved literature. “She’s a greek poetess from the island of Lesbos. She’s basically a literary icon and wrote a bunch of amazing love poems. Mostly about other women. She’s basically why the term ‘lesbian,’” she bent her fingers in air quotes, “exists. Most of her poems were destroyed, so there’s only a few fragments left.” It was tragic, really.

Ella nearly beamed at the compliment, but his flattery was quickly doused by the next phrase that came rolling out of his mouth. “I didn’t perk my-” she shook her head, “whatever. Not that it matters.” She pushed her hair off her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

Johnnie wasn’t really one to spend his nights in but he was feeling under the weather lately and staying on campus on a weekend was kind of a treat when he didn’t want to have to entertain anybody. Post-punishment meant that a whole lot of students were just hankering to do something else other than look at brick walls and he didn’t blame them but he’d had enough of being around people (Charlie excluded). His head had become enough of a party on its own. A sad, morose party DJ’d by his own country twang he’d jotting down in the music room. 

He moved his guitar case from the seat next to him when Ella came barreling in and sat it between his knees. 

“Really? What an idiot. He’s missin’ out,” Johnnie said around a mouthful of casserole. His dinner hadn’t looked unappetizing until Ella sat down next to it. All her effervescence made him and his things look like a rain cloud. 

He shrugged at the comment and moved his food around. His tray, as always, was graciously loaded with extras from the cafeteria staff.

Johnnie plucked a juice box from his tray and offered it to Ella. “You look cute. Where’d you say he come from again? You should’ve let me talk to him first. Doubt he’d have stood you up if he knew what was comin’ if he did.” 

Ella felt validated by Johnnie’s assurances in spite of his lack of table manners. Anyone could have agreed with her and she would have felt a bolster of reassurance that Brent Harstine from Somerville High was a complete and utter douche-canoe unworthy of her time. “Seriously. So dumb.” She considered hopping in line for her own meal, but the look of Jaime’s dinner had done a good job of killing her own appetite. 

His compliment earned a smile from her. “Thanks. That’s sweet of you to say.” Even if she’d felt the outfit looked good when she left, it was nice to know the additional effort wasn’t a waste. Maybe it was anti-feminist of her to find the act ‘worthy’ only if it garnered the approval of someone else, but Ella didn’t see anything wrong with wanting a little recognition for her effort in the same way she didn’t see anything wrong with not caring what anyone thought. 

Why some people seemed to think both were inherently in conflict confused her.

Ella gratefully accepted the juice-box. Dinner might be a no-go, but she could never say no to sugar. She unwrapped the plastic encasing the straw and punched it through the lid. “Somerville High. It’s a public school a few towns over.” Not a long trek, especially if you had a car. Ella laughed, “Actually I think he may have run in the opposite direction. Especially if he saw you swing a bat in baseball.

"So. Plot twist. He stood me up. Like, just completely didn’t show.” Ella dropped her purse on the table in Broadripple’s dining hall. It was the only one she’d brought to the Academy with her, the only one nice enough to be deemed worthy of going out. But instead of a promised Friday night escape to one of the local restaurants just out of town, Ella was left waiting at the gates for a ride that never showed up. If she was being honest with herself, the first of many red flags had arisen when Brent kept trying to slide their texts into the realm of sexts. And optimism was always an excuse she fell back on when she knew she wanted something unrealistic. “Just so you know, the guys from Somerville High are lame. I swear, this guy didn’t even know Sappho was an actual person.” She definitely wasn’t bitter about it. She totally didn’t care. Even though she’d wasted an hour trying to recreate a make-up tutorial and slaving over an outfit that looked effortlessly cute. An hour that she could have spent on something meaningful. Like practicing lines or reviewing Griffin’s latest edits for Broadripple Uncensored.

Instead, she’d spent her open afternoon rifling through drawers, switching out her earrings, and trying on nearly every article of clothing in her wardrobe. Gwen would have a mouthful to say about the pile mounted on Ella’s bed when she got back to the room, but Ella considered that an issue to suss out later.

At this point of the party, Damian has surrendered himself to the idea of it just being absolute chaos. There was nothing he could do about it. The only effort to be made was at the end of it, when he was sure he could finally go about collecting trash in peace without more being added in the following minutes.

An empty cup landing on his foot did nothing to alarm the Swim captain. Instead, he just bent down and picked it up, resigned to his fate, before inspecting it some and letting his gaze wander to the pool only to land on Ella Dawson. Oh. He blinked. Well, that invigorated him quite a bit, nerves making itself known to Damian as he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. Another stray cup felt like the least of his worries now that Ella was making her feelings known about his lack of consideration when it came to her presence at the party.

Damian has sighed far too many times tonight but what was one more as he proceeded to the edge of the pool and knelt down to be closer to Ella as he explained himself. Something he had to do for more than one member of Seton now that he thought about it. But he’d save that stressful to-do for another time.

“I’m sorry,” he started. Truly, he meant it. “You were the first person I thought of when Johnnie told me I could invite someone.” It was true. “But… I’d already invited Kat before I could get to you. And I wanted this gathering to be… small.” Big ha-ha considering the attention this party has attracted it seemed. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Ella. Truly. I’m…” A disappointment. “–willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Whatever you want.” 

Ella was trying her hardest to be stubborn. She felt the need to remain angry, to be an impenetrable fortress capable of hurting Damian just as much as he’d hurt her. But when he knelt down at her level and spoke with such painful sincerity, in his utterly Damian way, it was hard to not feel her defenses crumble.

The fact that he mentioned she had been the first person to come to mind when inviting someone acted as a soothing balm to her bruised ego. She sunk her head so her chin rest on the boogie board, water lapping at her chin. “Really?” she asked, not because she doubted him, but because she felt desperate to believe him.

Ella told herself she wasn’t going to let this slide, that this was the time to be ( as Wendy had once told her ) a boss-ass-bitch. But Ella didn’t feel like a boss-ass-bitch. She felt tired and heavy and somehow Damian apologizing to her made her feel far sadder than it made her feel angry. His words were like sandpaper, easing away her contours and coarse edges with what felt like the utmost ease. It was the same way she’d slipped into a friendship with him - resistance vanishing from beneath her feet before she realized it was gone. Then the plunge head-first. At least it had been that way for her. Even now, so drunk she scarcely remembered what she had done thirty minutes ago, she remembered how she often felt he held her at a distance.

The mention of Kat roused a few memories, nothing clear. Only that she’d skipped out on a game of chicken to hang back with her at the poolside. If she’d come here with Damian, why had she left him in the first place? The question entered her mind as quickly as it vanished.

She took in a deep breath, limply paddling closer to the side. “It’s okay,” Ella replied quietly, the fire once vibrant in her words quelched. “I guess I was just...sometimes I wonder if you want to be friends with me the same way I want to be friends with you.” A tipsy and unclear statement, although Ella felt it made complete sense.

Griffin did not have fast reflexes, but he attempted to catch Ella anyway as she slipped on the tiled floor. It was a miracle some idiot hadn’t already cracked their skull open and Griffin was intent on not allowing Ella to be the one to do it. He hadn’t realized how tipsy she was when she approached him, but it was not a slow dawning on him so much as a rapid and horrific realization. Griffin was awkward around regular, sober people. Drunk girls were like a foreign, war-torn land.

“No, it’s fine,” he said to her offer, distracted from his usual need to say something witty in every situation by her skin against his. Physical contact of any kind, from any person, was jarring for him. Ella’s skin was soft. He knew that now. He’d have to know it forever, even when they sat forcing glares at each other in the back of the library. “We can jump him later when he’s alone,” he promised half-heartedly.

He headed in the direction she pointed him, intent upon being drunker for this whole… thing. “Oh yeah, Ella, I’ll take a break from the party to shower. Do you think anybody brought their Johnson and Johnson No Tears Baby Shampoo?” He rolled his eyes, but he wore a small smile. “Anyway, I can’t abandon you when it took so long for me to find you. This room isn’t even that big and it was like playing the worst game of Where’s Waldo.” 

He looked at her as they neared the display of drinks (once haphazardly organized, now an utter disaster zone). “So, party sensei, what sort of booze should I pick?” 

“Oh good plan, good plan,” Ella remarked, although in a few hours she’d probably forget the fact that they’d made a plan at all. “You’re so smart, Griffin.” she cast him a smile over her shoulder. It became apparent to her that he felt rather far away when she was leading and he followed, so instead she opted for reaching back, linking their arms together like a perfectly respectable pair of Victorian socialites out for a stroll. “Do you ever just...think about how smart you are?” Ella would have been mortified with herself had she been sober, mostly because she was freely giving Griffin points in the invisible tally of I’m More Right Than You that served as the backdrop for most of their banter.

“Hey,” Ella laughed. “Listen, I have a locker in here and I have shampoo and stuff.” Damn good shampoo at that. It smelled like vanilla and a hint of lavender. “If you’re nice, I might consider letting you borrow it.” She turned in towards him, pressing a palm to his bare chest. “Maybe.” But taking a dip in the pool wasn’t such a bad idea either. Maybe she could actually coax him into playing a game with everyone. The prospects were doubtful, but Ella’s optimism was even more robust than usual. 

“We can be conjoined twins,” Ella joked, bumping her hip against his. She laughed at herself. “That way you never have to look for me again.” She said it offhandedly, as though such a promise would be easy for her to keep. At the moment, there was nothing she wanted more than to stick by Griffin’s side for the whole night, teasing him for grumbling before intentionally doing and saying things to make him grumble even more.

They reached the drinks and Ella released him, hands hovering over the table as she shifted between the possibilities. “You like sweet things,” she said, touching back on her memories from the coffee shop. She picked up a cup, scrawling out Griff in semi-cursive, adding a smiley face at the end and a few doodled stars around his name for good measure. She plucked up the vodka - her go-to for any mixed drink. She eyeballed how much she poured, figuring Griffin came here with the intention of getting utterly smashed. And as his friend, she was on a mission to help. Next she plucked some pineapple juice, pouring in a hefty amount to wash out the taste of vodka and adding a hint of sprite for carbonation. “Alright my little padawan,” Ella turned to him, beaming confidently. “Tell me how it is.” 

When Ella nestled herself against Kat’s legs, Kat thought it was just perfect. Now, Ella was all hers and the rest of the pool had to find their own Ella Dawson because this one belonged to Katherine Bishop. She was riding the high of that thought as she leaned a little further to wrap her arms around the other girl’s neck, pressing her cheek to her head affectionately, as if they had been the best of friends for years and years, like sisters even.

She was even more thrilled when Ella turned to face her, having just rejected the chicken players in favor of hanging out with Kat. What a treat, she thought as Ella rest atop her knees with a grin. So pretty. “I know it,” she agreed, as if it had been Ella’s point rather than her own. “That’s true,” she continued in sequence, barely hesitating before she confirmed that indeed, they were fucking amazing and not just because of the reasons Ella had provided but probably at least a million more as well. Did Drea know Ella? She needed to know Ella if she didn’t know Ella. Ella was great and Drea was great and if Katherine had both of them hyping her up like this, Kat would be unstoppable. She was thinking about that when Ella mentioned writing, “Yes!” she chimed with enthusiasm, “I won a poetry competition when I was in middle school, actually,” she had told Ella about that once already but once was hardly enough for Kat to bring it up within the course of a friendship. 

“Please,” she insisted, she wanted to spend all of her time with Ella, every second she had left on the planet, she wanted to spend with Ella because Ella was so lovely and so charming…when she was complimenting Katherine consistently. Not that Kat had realized that that was the specific reason, aside from the fact that she was as high as a kite, that she was feeling particularly enamored with Ella Dawson on that occasion. She hugged Ella the best she could despite the barrier caused by the fact that she was out of the pool and Ella was in it, only amplified by their difference in height. She didn’t care though, she still thought it was nice. “Wow,” she had no fucking idea what celestial meant but she loved that word, or maybe she just loved the way Ella said it “Say it again,” she begged, “I’m what?” she was giddy about it, she wished she had an audio recording of Ella saying it that she could listen to for the rest of forever, wow. “You have the best smile- I’m obsessed with your smile,” she told the other girl in return, “If we had kids together they would be so hot,” she decided, matter-of-factly. 

Ella felt a burst of happiness swell in her chest the moment she felt Kat’s arms fall over her. She was warm, soft, and she smelled like pretty. Ella couldn’t imagine herself being with anyone else in that moment and she felt that was the most beautiful thing. She knew someone like Griffin might correct her, noting that it was probably just the natural biological trigger of human touch releasing a surge of dopamine into her bloodstream, but Ella preferred her own interpretation. It was the power of love. Even if Ella wasn’t especially close with Kat, at that moment if she had been asked, she would have assured them that she loved the absolute shit out of Katherine Bishop because she was beautiful and bright and perfect.

Ella nodded along. She remembered that day in the cloisters. It had been such a hot day, but in retrospect and with her vision warmed by the haze of alcohol, she was left wondering if it had truly been the weather or if Kat Bishop’s radiant energy was just a force of nature. “That’s like...so amazing.” Ella hadn’t entered any competitions, mostly because she felt her work wasn’t strong enough to warrant an award. “You’re so talented, honestly.” Ella hadn’t read a scrap of Kat’s work, but she was still certain of it. “You should give Broadripple Uncensored some of your work. We could publish you and it would be rad as hell.”

“Celestial?” Ella asked, legs paddling gently in the water while her arms sliding up Kat’s legs until they enveloped her waist. “Katherine Bishop, you are utterly celestial.” She wanted to reach up and play with the strands of hair framing Kat’s face. They looked so soft. She looked so soft. “And your hair is like...threaded starlight right now.” Illuminated by the backlight of the moon through the Pool House’s windows. “And anyone who thinks differently can like...” she couldn’t think of the words so she settled for something else entirely. “I’ll like...wrestle them or something.”

Ella felt her cheeks warm at the compliment, a hand reaching up to touch her own lips. It may as well have been the first time someone had deigned to offer her a compliment. “Ohmygod, thank you.” The mention of smiles drew Ella’s gaze to Kat’s, tinted red with lipstick. It looked so good. Ella wasn’t good at make-up. She didn’t have the patience or steady hand. She’d have to ask Kat to help her out sometime if she ever went on a date or needed to look cute for something. “They would be so hot,” Ella repeated, eyes still hooked on Kat’s lips. Her cheeks were flushed, but she was far too drunk to feel embarrassed or consider the ramifications of her actions. “Dude, do you wanna like kiss or something?”

Ella’s balance swayed, tile wet and slick beneath her feet. Somehow she’d misplaced her cup, but held a half-empty fifth of vodka clutched by the neck in her hands. She glanced down at it curiously, unsure of when she’d picked it up and why she was carrying it considering she was a good distance away from the drinks table. She glanced around, vision hazy and blurred like a damp watercolor painting. The had visions of Drea, Kat, Damian, Scotty, and Griffin floating in the slurry of her memory, but she couldn’t remember when she’d lost them. Had it been hours? Minutes. The ground rocked beneath her feet, body so heavy it may as well have been filled to the brim with sand.

The realization that she felt completely and utterly alone in a room crammed with people suddenly amplified, pressing down on her with a crushing weight. She felt sick. She felt scared. The bottle in her hands seemed to be dragging her down towards the floor. She turned, arms swinging at her sides. She strained to catch sight of Damian or Scotty, even Dylan. In her mind, their height should have made them an immediate find. But everyone around her seemed to have the same foggy hair and faces, voices too far away and too close all at once.

Distracted and clumsy, she staggered directly into another person. The bottle fell from her hand and shattered against the floor, scattering blades of glass like shards of diamond. “Shit ‘m sorry.” She grabbed the individual’s arm with the intent of apologizing. Her next instinct was the bend down and pick up each individual shard before someone split their foot open. Ella glanced up, intent on apologizing again, having forgotten she’d already done it when the individual’s features suddenly sharpened into focus. “Shit.” Nico. She let go, hobbling back a step. “Shit, I...” she scrambled for words. “That wasn’t on purpose.” She felt the need to clarify. Stuff wasn’t good between them, but that didn’t mean she was about to assault him with a bottle.

Scotty was loving this! Everyone was so nice and the pool water was so warm. This was light-years better than wading around in the local pool during the winter. Man, private school was awesome.

“A player!” Scotty hollered on his way over to where she was relaxing against the side of the pool, doing his best to run over excitedly even if the water was doing its job in preventing him from doing that effectively. “I’m the base,” he shared because he was pretty sure Ella couldn’t handle all 6 feet of him even if he was a lanky twig (who really enjoyed pancakes, pork rinds, and Coca Cola).

“Come on, you gotta get on my shoulders,” he told her once he was close enough, turning around and bending till only his head was above water. He was so stoked to be a part of a game that wasn’t taking place online. Not that destroying on Deep Rock Galactic wasn’t awesome.

“Man, this party is so cool, El,” Scotty shared as he waited for her to get situated. “Music’s great, everyone’s smiling at me, and someone complimented my Cereal Killer shirt.” It was the best night of Scotty’s life so far if he had anything to say about it. Though, he was kind of wondering what happened to his Cereal Killer shirt after he discarded it earlier. It was probably on a bench somewhere… “I’m doing so many things I’ve never done before!” He announced cheerily.

Ella laughed, Scotty’s body pushing through the water with so much constrained force a small wave had pushed up in his wake and sent the water sliding towards her. “Hell yeah, you are.” Ella would have tipped her cup to him if it weren’t painfully empty, so instead she settled for a high five. But apparently funneling drinks the whole night hadn’t done much for her hand-eye coordination, pushing her aim far off course and missing Scotty’s palm entirely. “Oh shit,” Ella snickered, wading away from the wall to catch Scotty’s arm and hold it still so they could complete the high-five with a wet smack. “There we go. My bad, my bad.”

“Okay, okay,” Ella was amped, eager to totally kick ass. In Ella’s mind, she and Scotty were an undefeatable duo. He had his height and an admirable ability to roll with the punches while Ella liked to think she had finesse and confidence. Together they’d be unbeatable. The Chicken Legends of the Pool Party of 2020. She placed her hands on his shoulders and hiked herself up. Clumsier than usual, she wobbled on his shoulders, nearly pitching herself forward with a shriek of laughter before she steadied herself. “Holy shit, Scotty are you okay?” She asked, gently pressing her palms to the top of his head as though she were searching for a wound.

Being around Scotty was like being high on the best kind of drug. Any situation he touched with his presence seemed to heighten the saturation. It was vibrant, exciting, pumped full of wonder and excitement for everything and everyone. It was probably the alcohol, but Ella was filled with a sudden fondness for Scotty. “It’s 'cause you’re awesome, man.” Ella had half a mind to try and swing down to hug him, but felt the nose dive straight over his shoulders wasn’t worth the risk. Instead, she settled for patting his head affectionately. “And that shirt is awesome too. Like, puns are super underrated.” Her smile widened, her own happiness amplified by the fact that Scotty was having an unabashedly good time. “Really? like what?” If it was something she hadn’t done yet, she was expecting a tutorial.

sat. jan 25

Kat was present for the conversation about chicken. She was physically present for it at the very least but her mind was wandering absently. She’d been feeling pretty euphoric since the molly had kicked in, floating around the pool house on cloud 9 because boys loved her and God loved her and nothing else really mattered. With her jeans rolled up high on her shins she’d dipped her feet into the pool in an attempt to participate despite her lack of a swimsuit, swaying lazily to the beat of the music as she sat on the edge that Ella was leaning against.

“No- don’t leave me,” she insisted, leaning forward, closer to Ella’s level and placing a hand on the other girl’s shoulder, then dragging it down the other girl’s bicep to her forearm, wrapping her fingers around it, “Please- play later,” she insisted, tugging at Ella gently beneath the surface of the water.  Kat, in her jeans and a t-shirt (even though she’d rolled her hems and sleeves up), was in no position to join Ella’s chicken team, even if she would have totally been the perfect base at 5′7″. What an amazing team they would have made, a dream team, a beautiful partnership, made for one another- oh- Kat was still rubbing Ella’s arm as she thought about this and realized it a moment too late. 

She pulled her arm out of the water and wiped it on her t-shirt though her skin hardly dried, it just made her t-shirt damp, “We never get to talk anymore, don’t you think that?” they didn’t really talk that much to begin with but sure, Kat sort of had a point. “-and it’s the dumbest thing because we’re so good together,” she was confident about that, “We both read,” they both could read, at least, “We both- we-” she was running out of things already, “I just think you’re very beautiful and I want my life to be filled with beautiful people- don’t you think that?” she repeated, unaware that she’d said the same phrase just moments beforehand, desperate for reassurance.

The instant Ella felt a hand on her arm she was drawn back, all thoughts of participating in the game of chicken vanishing from her mind with the gentle draw of Kat’s touch. Ella eased back, body bouncing gently against Kat’s shins. “Okay.” The words left her mouth the moment they entered her mind, torn halfway between amusement and the delightful sensation of Kat’s caress. She glanced back at their unfortunate classmate, now woefully without a player to complete their game. “Sorry. Later.” She promised, turning her back on them to face Kat. She felt giddy, weightless. She let her arms rest on Kat’s knees, smiling up at the girl. Her white-blonde hair was haloed by a beam of light cast down from the ceiling.

“It is the dumbest thing.” Ella agreed, following up on Kat’s statement without hesitation. “We read, we sing, we’re...both fucking amazing.” In Ella’s mind, it was an all encapsulating statement. “And we’re both writers,” the highest compliment Ella felt she could give. Even if Kat had been dismissive of her own work in the past, Ella remembered Kat had won an award for one of her poems. Come to think of it, she could ask her to write something for Broadripple Uncensored. Griffin did his best to pull people into the magazine, but Ella was really the one who tended to play better with others. “We should spend more time together.” Ella agreed, “We-” she trailed off as Kat spoke. Her chest bloomed with warmth and she found herself wrapping her arms around Kat in a feeble attempt at a hug. “I think you’re fucking beautiful too.” Ella returned to compliment with utter sincerity. “Like, you’re literally celestial Kat.”

Ella had been reclining against the side of the pool, the general feeling of warm and fuzzy that drinking usually left her with leaving her with an ever-present smile on her face and a general feeling of contentment.  A disturbance in the water caught her attention - a fellow classmate with an offer.

“Chicken?” Ella asked, lowering her drink. Her smile widened. She set her drink on the side of the pool. She gave little thought to how dangerous the practice was or whether or not she’d even remember where she’d discarded it. “I mean, are people wanting a ref or a player? I totally don’t mind spotting someone if there isn’t a base.” Being 5′3 had never faltered her ambitions, and this case was no exception. She liked to think swimming had strengthened her core and deltoids enough that she could support another girl on her shoulders. 

Reffing wasn’t a shit deal either. She could keep her drink and enjoy the show. The only sucky thing about it was that if another scuffle broke out she’d have to try and break it up without getting a broken nose in return, but she wasn’t about to back out just because something might happen. 

“Either way,” Ella picked up her drink and downed the rest of it. Sugary-sweet and leaving her tongue burning with the taste of vodka. “I’m in.”

For Charlie North, parties were like blood transfusions: necessary to continue living. He had spent enough time cooped up in the ancient, haunted halls of that school, lost in thoughts he didn’t care to have. Bored. Reeling. He was a boy that operated at lightspeed, forced to live in slow motion. Thus, the pool party that Saturday was of vital importance. If he didn’t capitalize on every single chance to get royally fucked up, he’d wither and die.

One fat line of blow later (after Officer Hyun had left, of course; Charlie had never met a snitch with such a chiseled jaw), he was ready and raring to go. He was 165 lbs of chaos on the poolside, in swim trunks that were Broadripple red. He bounced from partygoer to partygoer, intent upon making an impression on every single person that bothered to show up. Let nobody speak ill of a BBC party ever again. Charlie North was there to make sure they had a night they’d never forget. 

In fact, ever the polite host, he’d brought along candy to share. He gleefully held a pill in one palm and a gummy bear in the other. With his fists closed, he approached someone who’d made the horrific mistake of standing alone.

“Hey! Havin’ fun so far?” he asked them, eyeing their red solo cup. Without giving them a chance to respond, he pushed his fists into the space in front of them. “Wanna play a game?”

Ella had been with Griffin, but somewhere in-between him mentioning the words water and wait right here, Ella had caught sight of Charlie North. Normally seeing him at a party would warrant an eager exclamation of his name and an immediate challenge of some kind, be it who could down a shot of the rankest alcohol on the table the best or who could climb to the top of the barn without breaking a leg the fastest. But tonight they had beef. She cast aside her general fondness for Charlie North, reminding herself that she had a mission - defending Griffin’s honor ( previously sullied by a can of Coor’s Light ).

So she wandered away, crossing the tile until she stood in front of Charlie. She didn’t want to get into it with him, but in a state of drunken responsibility, Ella felt the need to defend her friend from the BBC’s more dickish behaviors. “Yeah-- I mean,” Ella shook her head. Her mind was hazy, but not so hazy that she wouldn’t hold steadfast to her goal. “I mean, no. No.” She could hardly keep up with his words, but she saw his fists stick out in front of her, so she relinquished her now empty cup to catch both his fists. It clattered as it hit the floor.

The mention of a game was tempting, but Ella commanded herself to hold her shit together. “No games, Charlie.” She insisted, clumsily trying to push his arms away, but it was more of a lazy flop than anything else. “We’ve got a problem.” She swayed on her feet. “Like, throwing that drink on Griffin wasn’t cool, man.” She stood up straighter. 

A small gathering. Just my ‘pals’ and their ‘gals’. If that was true, then – sorry – what the freaking heck was this?! This was not fifteen to twenty people. This was– Oh Lord, Damian didn’t want to know how many people this was. This was… This was an atrocity. This was chaos!

You’re going to lose your Swim Captaincy over this, he thought to himself. You’re going to get kicked out of school. You’re going to become some degenerate hobo who lived on the street and begged for change on the off-chance it made enough money to purchase a meal to settle the rumbling in your stomach that’s been going on for days. You will never feel the softness of a Tommy Hilfiger oxford shirt over your back again.

It felt like Damian couldn’t breathe, vision going blurry as he stared at a plastic cup floating in his pool. This… this wasn’t good. He needed to move. He needed to collect that cup, every cup on this room. He needed to rush everyone out, lock the doors, and bury the fact that this was even a reality to begin with. 

All of these thoughts going through his head and yet all he could manage to do was stare. Stare at the ghastly excuse of single-use plastic bobbing up and down in his pool that students were using for… fun. Oh dear Lord. 

Ella had caught sight of the lonely cup drifting in the water, a bobbling beacon through the haze of her... honestly, she didn’t know how many drinks she’d had at this point, only that her joints felt delightfully loose and almost everything made her feel like laughing. She paddled clumsily towards the cup, supported mostly by a boogie board that had been haphazardously tossed into the pool some time ago, recently commandeered by her when she’d begun to feel like the water had become a little too heavy on her limbs. She’d snared the cup by the mouth, casting it out of the pool with a loud clatter as it rolled over the tile...straight onto someone else’s foot. 

“Shit, my bad.” Ella chuckled and waved her arm apologetically. The sudden motion and the utter dissolution of her balance sent her careening off the boogie board and into the water. She arose, sputtering and hair hanging in front of her face like a wet mop. She flung her arms blindly for the board, slow and clumsy. No one probably would have believed she was on the swim team had this been the first time they’d met.

Her arm met foam, and Ella was able to steady herself, draping her upper body over to board. Her head was feeling so heavy...kinda tired. She lay it down on the board, glancing up at the individual she’d nearly pelted with a solo cup. 

Damian. “Oh shit.” Her laughter returned, but this time tinged with bitterness. “Hey Damo,” she said, in spite of having never once used the nickname for him before. “I thought you hated parties.” She kicked her leg in the general direction of the most densely populated area of the pool. “Y’know, when I heard that you were planning this I was all like, ‘no Damian doesn’t do that stuff, Damian would hate it if the pool got trashed.’”