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The Bastille stood in ruins, two of the four towers mostly complete, the others collapsed, as well as the wall between them, stones crumbling down to lay scattered on the ground below.
Tall weeds surrounded it, stringy and green, rising up through the water and rippling slightly in the current.
The water itself was clear, fresh, and warm. Nearby, a diver hovered above a treasure chest, which occasionally opened, spraying bubbles upward.
“Actually,” the nerdy kid with the glasses said, “I think the architecture looks far too German to be the Bastille.” He leaned closer, resting a finger on the glass. “See, it has—”
“Don’t tap that!” Greasy managed to keep himself from shoving the kid away, but the push was probably rougher than necessary. “Didn’t you hear me when you came in?”
“You don’t hurt him,” snapped the girl, standing with her fists clenched at her sides.
“Or what? You’ll fight me?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t participate in unnecessary violence, as I am completely free from the influences of toxic masculinity. But if I did, I’d wipe the floor with you.”
Greasy stretched, towering over her, taking up more space in the room than any of the others.
“Alright,” Adam said, coming over to stand on the other side of the aquarium, his dog trailing behind. “Brian’s supposed to be getting the ice cream, but I think he got distracted or something. Can one of you run down and get him?”
Shooting glares at Greasy, they both walked away, stomping their feet like they were angry at the floor.
“I’m not going to apologize,” Greasy started. “I told all of you not to touch this. Vibrations in the water aren’t good for the fish.”
“I know.” Adam bent down, watching the little school dart around, exploring the sunken Bastille. “I’ll talk to Wensley. He didn’t mean anything by it. Probably just an accident, he’s usually very careful.”
“Well…” He deflated a little, having fully expected an argument. “Right. Good.”
“What kind of fish are these?”
Greasy crossed his arms, trying to figure out how this was a trap.
His thirteenth birthday had hit him hard. Already a big kid, he’d suddenly shot up to an uncomfortable size. One of his gang had moved away, another went to some fancy school and wrote two emails each year. The other two started dating, and their inevitable break-up had spelled the end for the Johnsonites.
By that point, Greasy was the weird giant kid who liked to look at pictures of fish. Starting a new gang proved impossible. Finding someone to eat lunch with proved impossible.
So here it was, his fourteenth birthday, and his mother had decided he should celebrate it with Adam and his crazy friends, just because he and Adam happened to have the same birthday.
He hated it. He hated not having a gang, he hated not knowing what to do with his awkward limbs and enormous shoes, he hated that he wore bigger clothes than his father.
But most of all, he hated that these kids had only come to his birthday to pity him.
“Don’t pretend you care,” Greasy snarled, trying to loom again, but Adam didn’t even seem to notice.
“I’m not. Look at that. They’ve got little stripes on them. That’s neat.” He said it so seriously. Adam was always serious these days, for the last couple years at least. Like he was looking at things no one else could see. “I always thought it was nice, the way they all play together. Always have a friend, right?”
Greasy’s stomach twisted, anger and humiliation fighting inside him. “You don’t know anything about that.”
“No, I don’t.” Adam’s eyes followed the Zebrafish around the aquarium one more time. “Pepper and Brian and Wensley are always there for me. I’ve been incredibly lucky, really. Honestly don’t know what I’d do without them. And without you.”
Greasy blinked, feeling himself grow hot. “What is that supposed to mean? We’re not—we’ve never been friends.”
“Course we have. Well. Rivals. S’a kind of friend.” He backed away from the aquarium and went to stare out the window, probably to wait for his real friends to come, though they hadn’t gone towards the airbase, so he was looking out the wrong one. “Don’t think I would have realized that if it wasn’t for you and your gang.”
“So?” Adam was somehow even weirder than he’d remembered.
“So. I owe you.” He turned with a smile, an odd smile that didn’t seem to belong on a fourteen-year-old. “Really. Any time you want to talk. Hang out. Join us in Hogback Wood—we’ve been building a house from some blueprints Wensley found. Well. More a shed, really. But there’s plenty of room.”
Greasy clenched his teeth. “Why? After all those times we fought, why would you want me anywhere near your gang?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Adam leaned back against the windowsill. “You’ve practically been a member since we started playing together as kids, as long as any of the others. Only…an outside member. But just as much a part of it. Who would we have plotted against, and fought, and played pranks on, if not for all of you? And the same back. We still talk about that time you built that fort in the quarry. It was brilliant.”
“…Brilliant?” That had been Greasy’s idea, and the ambush they’d lain for the rival gang, though some of the Johnsonites had complained it was too much work.
“Definitely. But we’re older now. Things change. We’re not going to fight with water balloons to claim a bridge made out of sticks any time soon.” A brief frown. “Actually, we should. That really does sound fun. But, still. I mean it. You’re welcome with us whenever you want.”
“No, I’m not.” Shrugging, Greasy turned back to his zebrafish, six little minnows swimming around together. “Your girlfriend hates me.”
Adam laughed. “Pepper is most definitely not my girlfriend. Or anyone’s girlfriend, at the moment. And she doesn’t hate you.”
“But—Yeah she does, she threatened to beat me up!”
“I know. She does that to everyone. Brian. Me. Threatened to beat up a postbox last week when it didn’t have her package.” From the noise downstairs, Adam’s friends had come back—the nerdy kid, the girl, and the messy one. Adam pushed away from the window, heading out of the room, dog trotting after him. “Look, you don’t have to join us if you don’t want to. It’s up to you. But there’s always a seat for you, anywhere we hang out. Especially Hogback Wood. We’re making the shed big enough for six.”
“Six?” Again, the suspicion, the defensiveness. “Are you calling me fat?” But this time, he didn’t really feel worried about it. He wasn’t sure why not.
“Hmmm? No, course not.” Adam glanced back, eyebrows raised. “Why would I do that?”
“But…” Greasy shrugged, confused. “Look, even with me, that’s only five.”
“Yeah. The sixth won’t be here for… probably another year, at least. Just planning ahead.” He sauntered off, down the stairs, leaving Greasy alone with his fish.
He really liked them, the fish, thought they were pretty and cool. Took pride in keeping them healthy.
But they weren’t the same as having friends. And he missed that. A lot.
“Hey, Adam!” He left the room and thundered down the stairs. “Wait up!”