Chapter Text
We’ll soon see if you’ll be my ruin
I may be high, but you got me terrified
That summer is not a good one for Bernie. A misjudged tackle in hockey and she’s on the bench with a broken arm for the rest of the season. She concedes her captaincy to Kate. It makes sense to do so, and she loves seeing the smile on Kate’s face as she calls the team round to discuss tactics. Kate’s her best friend. Been inseparable since they joined the school. Two army kids, united by their otherness
Kate runs up to her, breathless and grinning, “Meera says Ross Grisholm is going to ask you out,” she gasps, dropping down on to the bench next to Bernie. Ross is a year older, has floppy strawberry blonde hair and a crooked smile, pretty much every girl in their year has a bit of a crush on him, Bernie knows it’s considered an honour. She returns Kate’s smile, hopes it’s convincing.
“Has he kissed you yet?” Kate asks. They’re in Kate’s bedroom, sprawled across the bed, listening to music.
“Course,” Bernie blushes.
“Anything else?” Kate leers.
This sort of conversation makes Bernie uncomfortable. She feels like there’s a joke and she doesn’t get the punchline but she’s laughing along anyway. And there’s always the worry that someone will ask her to explain why it’s funny, and she will be found out.
“Like what?” Bernie asks.
Kate sighs, rolls over to her, reaches out a hand and strokes it across Bernie’s breast, “Like that,” Kate says, nonplussed.
Bernie nods her head.
“What else?” Kate asks, it’s purely scientific to her, comparing notes. She hasn’t noticed how Bernie’s breathing has changed, how her cheeks have flushed.
Kate takes Bernie’s silence for shyness.
“Have you frenched?” Kate asks.
“Frenched?” Bernie asks, quietly. Not really trusting herself. She sort of knows what it is, doesn’t know what the right answer is, though. Doesn’t want to get it wrong.
Kate sits up, regards Bernie for a moment, thinking, then leans over her, “It’s like this,” Kate brushes her lips across Bernie’s, slides her tongue against Bernie’s lips, pulls back, “You have to open your mouth, Bern,” she says, and Bernie does. When Ross has tried this, Bernie has had to fight back the urge to gag. Where he’s rough, clumsy, Kate is tentative, soft. The only point of contact between them is their mouths. Bernie’s right arm is pinned underneath her and her left is rendered useless by the plaster cast. She longs to reach up, pull Kate’s body against hers, just to see how it feels. But she doesn’t dare. Kate sits back on her heels, unceremoniously wipes her hand across her mouth, and looks down at Bernie, just for a second, before she jumps up to flip the record and the moment is gone.
There’s no word for it back then, not for Bernie. There is how she felt when Kate touched her, kissed her, and there are the words – gay, queer, lesbo – hollered at unpopular kids, ones who don’t fit in. For Bernie, they are two circles on a Venn diagram that don’t intersect.
That’s the last summer Kate and Bernie spend together. After that something shifts. Bernie knows it’s her fault. She’s too intense, too jealous of Kate’s other friends. She doesn’t know what it is she wants, but she knows it’s too much. Too much for Kate, too much for anyone.