Camp Haven is a ghost town the next morning. Most of the team sleeps through breakfast. Their buzzes give way to headaches, exhaustion, and fits of nausea. Guys creep zombie-like into the rec room for a monster FIFA tournament on the Xbox. A handful hide behind sunglasses from any threat of light.
Sebastian skips his morning run. He hardly slept last night. He declines Kyle and Gio’s invitation for a round of ping pong. He’s no good to anyone when his mind is drifting, lost at sea without a buoy. He’s drowning in Val and Mason, Zach’s attitude, the team, and Emir Shah.
Why is it so hard to get the one person who dreads seeing you off your brain? It should be a piece of cake.
Sebastian’s brain is so stuffed full of shit that Emir just circles around the surface like flotsam in a clogged drain.
The lake is a good place to free his thoughts. Sunlight glints off the water, gold against azure. Robins and sparrows chirp their sweet anthems. He presses his phone to his ear, flops on the wooden dock that stretches a few feet into the lake, and dips his toes in the cold water.
“Bumble Bee!”
Sebastian winces. One day Lily will realize the nickname is childish and tragic and finally stop calling him that.
They go through their usual catch-up; Lily carries most of the conversation. He hasn’t got much to say. Her voice is enough until she says, “Something’s on your mind, Bastian,” and he considers belly flopping into the lake and drowning so he’ll never have to admit to her how screwed up he is.
“It’s nothing.”
“Sebastian William—”
Oh, shit. Lily only uses his middle name when he’s on the verge of pissing her off beyond repair.
“It’s no biggie, Mom. It’s just—our first game against the Spartans is so soon.”
She hums. “Your mortal enemies.”
Sebastian does a pretty great job at holding in his sigh. “I’m nervous; it’s a big deal. We need to beat them.” His feet kick up a splash; sunlit, golden droplets ripple the lake’s surface.
“Well, sweetheart,” Lily says, “win or lose, what’s the most important part?”
“Kicking ass and winning the championship.”
Lily has always been blasé about his swearing, thanks to Carly, who has pulled enough outrageous stunts and brought home enough questionable boyfriends for Sebastian to get a pass. “It’s about you,” she says, her tone serious. Sebastian quickly sobers. “This has been your dream, right? Making the team. Having this journey.”
“Yeah.”
“And now you’re the best goalie in the conference—”
“I’m not the best.”
“Whatever,” Lily says with an almost audible smile. “The nerves are normal.”
But what about the pressure of keeping everyone in line? Figuring out his life’s aspirations? Also, these weird prickly feelings about his ex-best friend? Of course, he doesn’t mention any of that to her, but they’re recurring nightmares.
Maybe someone should create new hashtag: “Life’s complicated, but so is math.”
Lily talks randomly about his dad, the family dog, Thor, and her garden. She brings up school, and he sneakily avoids the topic because, no way, he doesn’t have the strength for a discussion about college. Sebastian isn’t ready for the reality of being an adult: earning a degree, starting a family, and living the dreams his parents have for him.
Lily says, “It’ll all work out.”
He can’t help but reply, “That’s what you’re supposed to say.”
“Well, it’s true!”
“You can’t prove that.”
“I don’t need to, Sebastian William, I’m your mother.”
Sebastian lets the subject die. He’s already pushed her far enough and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment.
“Maybe if you find a nice girl, who’s not Sam, you might stop being such a pest,” Lily says, half laughing, half hopeful.
He should tell her. Hands down, being bisexual is the one part of his life Sebastian hasn’t had to think about. It’s also the one thing he hasn’t had to be great at, not the way he’s had to try to be a good friend, to be a perfectionist on the pitch, to make an impact.
It’s scary, coming out to his parents. When it comes to being anything other than straight, it seems there’s a fine-print clause: a penalty for full disclosure when you belong to the LGBTQ community. Sebastian doesn’t get it. It shouldn’t matter if he falls for a girl or boy. Love is supposed to be a happy, comforting emotion, but it always comes with conflict. And being anything but straight means making these huge declarations to the people closest to you.
Why is coming out to loved ones like giving a speech in your campaign for President?
“Bastian?”
He chokes. His parents won’t hate him for who he is, but he’s not certain they’ll understand him either. “Yeah, Mom,” Sebastian stutters. “Maybe I will find someone.” And the rest, he keeps to himself.
Sebastian stares at the screen after they hang up. He stands, feeling lighter than before. He jogs back to his cabin.
Mirrors aren’t the friendliest of objects. Sebastian decided that years ago, but it’s inescapably clear now that he’s standing shirtless, inspecting his body.
In his head, on repeat, he hears it: “Bastian the Trashcan, Bastian the Trashcan…”
Behind him, Willie and Hunter are bundled under an afghan on Willie’s bed, snoring and dead to the world. Willie’s face is mashed in Hunter’s neck. Hunter’s fingers are twisted in Willie’s hair; their lower halves are tangled. A pair of cuddling bros.
Sebastian figured they’d be like that for another hour, which was all the encouragement he needed to change clothes for a late run. Then he caught a sideways glimpse of himself. Now, he can’t move his feet.
He’s repositioning his body to appear normal. Yes, he likes some things about himself: his skin has a natural, creamy tan and he has a broad chest and narrow hips. But the flaws stick out. He’s lost definition in his arms. His metabolism finally caught up with his growth spurts, so his belly is softer. He pulls at the extra tissue above his hip and hisses, “What the hell,” when it stretches painfully.
Sebastian’s tried changing his diet, more time in the weight room, counting calories, anything to make a difference, to end those taunts in his brain. But in the reflection, an older version of that bullied kid glares at him.
“Shit.”
The knot in his chest expands. Emir would never go for him. Not that Emir wants him, but why would he? Sebastian’s not in Emir’s league, at least, not physically.
“And these are the days of our lives…” Willie mumbles in his sleep; one leg hangs off the bed. Hunter is squeezing an arm around him so they both don’t roll off. It would be a viral hit if Sebastian recorded it on his phone, but he decides not to.
Bro code.
Sebastian eyes his reflection one last time. “Screw you, evil mirror” is implied when he flips himself the bird. He tugs on a tank top, steals Willie’s iPod, and heads for the door.
He can still squeeze in a run before lunch if he hurries.