Chapter Text
-September, 2003-
“Chase, are you running out of steam on me already?!?!?!”
Jasmynn decides to punctuate the good-natured incredulity of her voice with a violent shake of my shoulders, and she almost capsizes the both of us with it.
The sudden rattling of my neck robs me of my sense of balance, and the fox practically, if accidentally, ends up dunking my head underwater before she quickly relents and leaves me to my flailing about. The lake’s surface was like a loud and firm slap to my snout, and before I know it my head is made to erratically alternate between being above then below the lake’s now turbulent surface. My formerly rhythmic splashings are quickly replaced with the sounds of me thrashing in the water to try and stay relatively afloat, and Jasmynn gasp-giggling as she leans in and wraps her arms around my chest to hold on.
This just serves to make me struggle all that much harder, the new change in distribution of weight forcing a panicked gurgle out of my occasionally submerged mouth as I start to sink faster.
And yet.
Through all the sloshing and the burbling, I can still make out the unmistakable uproar of Jasmynn and my land-standing friends behind us laughing all the same.
And it’s the best feeling ever.
We’re only a few meters into the lake at the moment, Jasmynn having decided to shake me just a few short seconds after I kicked off and we started moving. Honestly, the sudden yelling and shaking filled me with an intense worry and, after digesting what Jasmynn said to me, it made me really annoyed. After the moment passed, however, and I recognized the irrepressible fun of the situation, the irritated curve of my mouth was quickly replaced with an amused smile and then a full-on, open-mouthed grin.
I can’t help but laugh along with them, water getting in my mouth now and interrupting but not choking me and I need air gods do I need air help, no longer inhaling but still gasping away all my oxygen and making the lake splash away from my face with it. Like that’s somehow a better use of it than making my throat and chest feel less tight. Or keeping me conscious.
But even as I recognize how silly I’m being, wasting my air and energy like this when I should be focusing on regaining my balance . . . it just makes me want to keep laughing with everyone even more.
The sharp cool of the lake as I first entered it today, complemented well by the pleasant early-autumnal warmth of 11 o’clock, is brought back to my mind as Jasmynn’s warm if frantic arms wrap around my torso. It breaks the self-flattering illusion of mine - that the entire lake warmed up just for me - beautifully, like it always does. And I’m not saddened by it. It’s just one of the reasons I love the water so much, and I’m reminded of so many more through the chaos of the next couple of seconds.
Light off the water’s surface catches my eye again and again as I paddle and kick to find some semblance of stability, and it doesn’t bother me. Waves of water splash and spray onto my reflexively-closing-eyelids as I try to find an opportunity to get some much needed air into my laugh-emptied lungs. And I barely feel a thing.
Droplets linger on my eyelashes, and they turn errant rays of light into prismatic splotches and streaks against the blue sky and bluer lake. And I hear my friends, their laughter chiming atop the noises of the water and they’re as happy as can be and they’re happy because of me and . . .
. . . And it’s everything.
These sights. These sounds. These sensations.
These people. Each and every one of them.
. . . Yes, even Flynn.
But not them.
My body begins to understand how to move with the new distribution of weight, time spent with at least my eyes above water now slowly increasing in frequency and duration, and my mind can’t help but wander all the while.
I think about what life was like before Leo’s family moved to Echo. I think about those times often. When it felt like it was just me and my first best friend, Jasmynn. Before my second best friend came to town and started watching out for us - started contacting all the other kids of Echo and getting us together - I was kind of the de facto “leader” in our so-called 2v2 with our bullies: Jeremy and Clint. Jasmynn’s a year older than me, but since Jeremy is one of her older brothers, that familial tie made it a lot harder for her to stand up to him than it was for me.
Not that my “standing up” or “leadership” ever amounted to much. I still can’t throw a good punch even after half a decade of trying to, and I was never good at blunting or stopping their aggression back then. Or nowadays. Talks with Jeremy and Clint never go anywhere, every interaction with them seeming to always and inevitably devolve into a fight. Probably because they knew I was a bad fighter and still am, and because they always managed to get a few hits in before me and Jasmynn could successfully outrun them or hide from them back then.
Those were bleak days, but looking back at them while in my current mood, it almost feels like I’m looking at someone else’s life rather than my own. They still try to pick on us but it’s a lot more manageable now, what with Leo always showing up when we need him most like he’s our own Superwolf. That, and all the fun we have together as our bigger and better group more than makes up for it.
It’s hard to imagine all of that gloom leading to a moment as wonderful as this, but it did. I think of where I am right now and what it is we’re all doing, and my grin somehow grows impossibly wider. Brighter. And I know.
I know I’ll cherish today.
Forev-
“HHRRRAAAUUUUUGGHHH!”
I finally, finally regain enough of my balance to successfully rocket my head out of the lake and take in an urgently necessary guzzle of air, and the volume at which I do so is so ridiculously loud that another peal of howling rips out of everyone all over again. It’s as if I just tried to crumple a gallon-sized jug in a single inhale, and the image I conjure up of me trying to do that makes me spend all the air I just fought so hard for on another bout of laughter myself. My head begins to get dizzy from the lack of air, and now I really have to try and keep my lungs full for at least a few seconds if I don’t want to pass out.
. . .
. . . It felt like I was stretching my mouth into a rectangle, lips stretched tight and muzzle flattening, and that image too just makes me laugh harder.
Thankfully the next breaths come easier to me, as I’ve rebalanced now, and I manage to keep it together enough to resume what I was doing and continue swimming Jasmynn and I further out into the lake. Though we both - we all - have yet to stop laughing. I angle my chin up so the water is kept out of my muzzle and so that I can finally breathe, and the next seconds proceed marginally smoother than those before. We keep moving, and I get a handle on actually breathing between short bursts of laughter now.
The sounds of happiness continue to ring and bounce all around Lake Emma as I continue on my route, and it’s hard to tell whether or not at least some of the water on my lashes are from somewhere other than the lake. Something I would have immediately and anxiously blamed on the strain of not breathing for several moments, were I someplace else. Or on the pain in my gut from laughing so hard. Or on dust getting in my eye.
But as far as I’m concerned in the here, and in the now? I don’t really care.
I’ve broken a rest-stop mirror before - over a fast food toy for god's sake - and this? This moment, with all my friends? I’m not embarrassed to be brought to tears over it. Not from laughing so hard, and not from just being happy if that’s all it took. And here in the lake, the evidence washes itself away as easily as the water cups my smile.
Out here in the water, where no one - not even the person on my back - can see my face, I don’t feel any of that pressure to posture or to pose. It all seems so silly when I’m here and free, like this. All I feel is a . . . a weightless, beaming, joy, and it’s almost as if the dancing lights of the water’s surface come from me and not from the sun.
At least, um, that’s how it feels. Heh.
After me and everybody begin to calm down and catch our breaths, my swimming form back to normal, Jasmynn seems to register the fact that she’s once again safe from falling into the water. I hear her take a few more steadying heaves, her own stomach likely sore from laughing so hard, before she lets go of me and starts to lean back into her previous sitting position. I move my body to accommodate the motion, and it’s a blessedly seamless shift in weight this time that lets me stay steady. The water that replaces her embrace is cool once more but only for a moment, the submerged majority of my body still acclimated and helping remind the areas that had forgotten.
But Jasmynn’s hands stay off of my person, which has me curious.
The usual position everyone takes when they’re on the S.S. Hunter is as follows: butt on my lower back - but above my tail - and hands holding somewhere around my ribs. This positioning makes use of my relatively long otter-torso, leaving the area around my arms and legs and my tail totally unencumbered by weight or grasping limbs. There are many benefits to this arrangement compared to others when trying to swim with another person on you, but I can’t exactly look at someone to figure out why they aren’t holding onto me while I’m more or less on my belly and they’re sitting on my back.
Not that that’s gonna stop me from trying.
With a toothy grin, I tilt my head backwards as high out of the water as I can, to try and see Jasmynn’s (upside-down) face. To bend far enough to have a hope of seeing her, I have to lift my torso out of the water too. Everything but my head gets submerged whenever I’m swimming with someone, so there’s enough water falling off of me as I bend my top half out of the lake that I’m an otter-made waterfall.
The breezeless air is gentle against my resurfaced fur, and the sound of rising then crashing water grabs the attention of those back on land.
The way my body must look while curved back so dramatically elicits some laughter from the shore again, and I eat it up enthusiastically. My arms are far enough out of the water to the point where only my forearms touch liquid, but I keep paddling with the whole arm anyways. Because it’s funny to rotate my arms out-of and back-into the water and make loud, sloppy splashes. Still, I became a letter-U mainly for Jasmynn and not the onlookers, so I try to keep that fact in mind and not enjoy the attention too much.
That being said, I don’t see much more than the sun and the cool blue of our cloudless, autumn sky. Jasmynn doesn’t want to meet my back-bending efforts halfway, refusing to lean forward and making it so I can only manage to see the bobbing view of her lightly-sprayed fox ears at the bottom (or top?) of my vision. I was hoping she’d physically react to the waterfall I made, since she’s on my back and was definitely close enough to get sprayed by it, but no luck. At least, none I can tell while her face is outside my field of vision.
. . . Okay, so if I can’t see her face like this maybe I’m not flexible enough to be a letter-U. More like a letter-J. Uppercase.
I can more or less guess at this point that she’s pouting about something, and so soon after nearly laughing herself overboard too. How she can do that exactly I’m not sure, but I don’t let that stop me from trying to find out.
Or trying to make her laugh herself out of it.
“Yarr- yarrgh,” I rasp, putting on a deep pirate accent and breaking it almost immediately with a laugh even higher in pitch than normal for me.
It’s hard to talk and maintain an accent while effectively bending backwards, an already noticeable strain placed on my jaw if I were to just talk normally while like this, but I get back into character anyway and try again. The required effort of it all serves as a good reason to lower my voice and try to talk with her more privately, too, which should get her to open up.
“Don’t give up on me, mateyyy.”
I stop messing around with my arms for a moment to synchronize them with my feet, and I get one good push out of the water that almost makes us totally airborne. We settle back into the water gently, my goal to just playfully buck Jasmynn just a little, and I resume my silly arm motions as I keep swimming forward. It’s not enough to make her hold back onto me, but she can’t stop the little squeak of delight that escapes her dramatically sealed lips, and I take that as a good sign to keep on with the accent.
The landlubbers laugh again, seeing me do my little trick, but it’s Jasmynn’s joy that makes me happiest as I continue.
“We’ve got boo- ,” I giggle in spite of myself, my accent starting to fall apart but I don’t care, “ -booty to plunder! I’ve got, energy to spare! Yarr!”
I decide to prove it to her by swimming just a little bit faster, keeping my arms in their ridiculous motion but working my legs and tail faster, the extra effort not affecting me and my high spirits in the slightest. And maybe there’s some showing off going on too, for her and for everyone else, because I can still swim full-speed and in a perfectly straight line even like this. My head is both out of the water and looking in the upside-down and reverse direction of where I’m swimming towards, arms still doing their airborne thing, yet my course stays true.
and I do take pride in that. Even if my being-an-otter makes any water-based skills I have a little less impressive, overall.
My effort pays off, and I get to catch the flipped sight of Jasmynn’s ears flicking down(?) towards my view of the sky, like her ears do when she’s happy. I take that jumble of information as a success, as well as a go-ahead to stop bending my neck over itself. It was starting to get uncomfortable and a little disorienting, and I don’t need to go that far to show people how well-tuned my nautical compass is.
Speaking of which, we’re about halfway to today’s treasure hunt diving spot. Well, at least as far as I can tell.
I relax my neck so that I’m looking forward and upright again, lower my chest and shoulders back into the wonderful water, and keep swimming out at my newly established pace. I start to use my arms to their full effectiveness again, and so my legs and my tail get to slow down a little without us losing any speed.
Or “knots", if we’re keeping with the theme.
Heh.
We’ve done a lot of different types of treasure hunts over the years - a timed event where we have to find one item at a general location, week-or-even-month-spanning hunts that involved following clue after clue and going to location after location, etcetera - all of them orchestrated by the other otter of our group: Sydney.
Them.
He’s had a passion for pirates (and luchadors) ever since before I met him, and it used to be a rare sight to see the otter outside of school and outside his home without a freshly dirt-covered trowel in one hand and a newly-drawn-up treasure map in the other. It’s still a fairly common thing to see, but bringing a shovel out to the lake when you have a pair of otters in the friend group is just unnecessary.
I’ll never forget the first “Lake Emma Treasure Diving Extravaganza”, the fateful day in question having happened a little over a year ago now. One seemingly boring day, he got us all to agree to meetup at the lake just out-of-the-blue. We’d all been to the lake plenty of times before, on account of there being two otters, so we just expected Sydney to have cooked up another land-based treasure hunt. Little did we know it would be anything but.
Sydney had told us all that he’d be waiting at the usual spot, but he was nowhere to be seen. Not by the first to arrive, and not by the last. We all ended up forming a little circle next to the water, not exactly worried given the otter’s dramatic tendencies but still looking around for him from that spot.
That’s when he walked out of the water, eyes-closed and with a huge grin on his face, shaking his head as water poured off him like he was in a slow-mo movie shot.
Playing through the memory in my mind nowadays, I can recognize it wasn’t really all that impressive a sight, seeing Sydney walk out of the water like he did. It was impressive in the moment, and much less so afterwards.
It was sort of mortifying, actually. In that fun way that memories can be.
First off, otter fur doesn’t collect a lot of water. It’s still a noticeable amount, but by the time Sydney took his second real-time, slow-mo step back on land pretty much all of the loose water on him was already off. Secondly, Sydney, as his eight year-old self as opposed to the current nine, was obviously clumsier. With his eyes closed he couldn’t help but stumble through the wet sandy shore, just barely keeping himself from tripping over his own foot quite a few times.
And he ended up walking forward so, so confidently . . . and not towards our group.
When he finally opened his eyes, his confidence evaporated instantly and was replaced with genuine worry, and an almost-kind-of . . . fear .
Good.
. . . Seeing him so scared almost scared me, honestly.
None of the people he presumably saw in the water before closing his eyes were in front of him when he should have come out of the water walking in a straight line, so I guess I can understand the reaction. I’d be a little worried too if that happened to me. Flynn though either didn’t notice the state Sydney was in or didn’t care, and snidely called the otter out for their shitty sense of direction. That snapped the otter out of it before he hastily power-walked toward us.
Sydney no longer looked frazzled then, but definitely looked embarrassed. The poor guy was blushing so hard and pointedly not looking at the lizard, but he got his payback, eventually.
Flynn typically avoided the water during our get-togethers, preferring to stay dry and on land, but even he couldn’t resist diving underwater with an otter for the first time of his life. Not after hearing all the raving reviews even water-avoiding Toby were giving that day. I turned out to be a pretty good submarine even to this day, a fact that even Flynn couldn’t deny in the end. Diving to the floor of the lake, or at least down twenty meters to a floor, was just something out of the solo capabilities of most non-aquatic children.
And from my own personal experience, I know it’s a heck of a worthwhile one.
Looking back up at the surface of the water from down there, the noise and worries of land pushed far away and muffled. The light from the sky dispersing gently around you and casting everything in that peaceful, flattering flicker . . .
Of course Flynn couldn’t resist a promise of all that.
And he was the only one that didn’t think to wear or at least bring any swimming gear that day. So not only did Flynn not find any treasure that day (I say ‘he’ because I totally saw one and I just lie whenever he accuses me of sabotaging him), his dry-clean-only clothes got soaked . His aunt, or Auntie as he calls her, chewed him out so hard later for that. Flynn complained about the whole thing for days in the group chat, only to end up angering his aunt again when his dry-clean underpants got soaked again the next time we went out here.
Due to some meticulous planning and, possibly privacy-invading conduct from Sydney.
Flynn ended up calling it worth though, since we managed to get two treasures that day. And I do mean ‘we’ that time, because there’s no way the lizard would have found and grabbed the second if I didn’t keep us completely still while I looked directly at it. And even after I helped him, he then had the nerve to swat my ears once we resurfaced with our prizes, accusing me of trying to drown him!
We were only under for so long because of him, and if he wanted to go up with just the one treasure he could have shaken me earlier than he did. That damn grumpy gila; he just wanted to pin the blame for his undignified gasps for air on someone else! The nerve! I still can’t believe it - unbelievable! Totally unbelievable!!!
. . . Heh . . .
I smile, the action becoming a normal occurrence today. The memory of an annoying time in my life has warmed into something heartening, and as I feel my eyes soften my smile just seems to keep growing wider and wider. I’m in the best mood I’ve been in in a while, and I can’t help but get lost in all these good memories. Even while in the immediate process of making so many more.
I never want to forget these times.
“Al-right,” comes a shout from far behind us, anchoring my mind back into the present, “you can stop there you cheaters!”
“Forget”.
It’s Sydney’s voice, reminding us of one of the rules to treasure diving: he’s the one that decides where each group starts their dive. I change over from swimming to treading the water now, and shift my hips forward a little so that I can more naturally float in place. Changing how I angle my body ends up bringing my head a little more out of the water and Jasmynn a little further down into it, but she doesn’t mind. This isn’t our first dive together after all, and she understands it’s for the best.
It’s a provision that every grouping abides by: a short and mostly silent break between swimming out and diving down. If not so that I can recover energy, then to allow at least one of us to prepare mentally. Some of the people in our group are, frankly, heavier than others. And less . . . cool under pressure, than others. So taking a calm moment has become the norm across all partnerings, and I’m certainly not against spending more time in the water.
The seconds stroll by, and I start to absentmindedly rock my head side to side to the sound of lapping water, the regular motion of my limbs creating an easy rhythm. I peer down at the water, not watching any shape of light in particular and just enjoying how the fluctuating surface seems to dance with all of the sun’s reflection.
It’s a nice break, here in the lake. It’s while I’m zoning out like this, though, that I notice that Jasmynn still isn’t holding onto me.
. . . But, I’m probably overthinking this.
I mean, I got her to laugh and made her ears flick. I’ve been in my own bad moods before, and whenever someone got me to make a happy sound at those times, it always kicked me out of it. Even if I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, and kept pretending to grouse while they could still see me. That’s probably what’s going on here. The fox is definitely in a good mood now, and is just messing with me like she does.
She could be waiting for me to ask her about it, then use that opportunity to splash or tickle me! Maybe she’s even forgotten about her hands, and is just so busy enjoying her better mood that she hasn’t remembered a detail as small as holding onto me yet.
Who knows, you know?
I leave her to it and decide to switch over from spacing out to cheerfully observing the lake for what must be the millionth time by now. Keeping my mind at least somewhat engaged and focused on what’s in front of me should help with the hunt, and Jasmynn will appreciate that.
I’ve ended up memorizing a few landmarks in the water after all these trips, though from all the way up here I can only really see the big ones. Judging by how long I took and the positioning of the more memorable boulders I can see through the water’s shimmering surface, I’d say we’re about thirty meters from solid land now.
. . . Which has our current position at about three meters short of the first dive today, and about six and four from the second and third dives respectively.
It’s still, genuinely unclear whether or not Sydney intends for all the diving spots of the day to be the exact same location or for all of them to be as haphazardly placed as they actually are. Hard to blame the guy though, as he’s looking at our position from way back there and effectively has to just guess.
He likes to act like I should know when to stop when he’s the one who insists on calling the shots personally, and that I just keep going or stop early just to mess with him. At this point though, it’s clear that he just likes calling us all ‘cheaters’ every once in a while for whatever reason. It used to really get on my nerves, being unfairly called something way more than the others get called, but it’s obvious the otter just means it in good fun so I’ve learned to let it slide.
It’s all harmless like this anyways, and nothing could spoil my current mood.
“Harm”, is all that they know.
It hasn’t been all that long since Sydney told us to stop, but Jasmynn’s always preferred our breaks be a little shorter than the others’. Plus, I’m admittedly getting a little antsy. I’m about to ask her if she’s ready to start strategizing when Flynn lets out a short and sharp whistle, with that unique hiss to it that lizards can make, and adds to what Sydney said. He apparently remembers Jasmynn’s preferred break timing too, and decided to wait for it to come before saying what he wanted to.
“Yeah,” he shouts, with a self-amused and sardonic tone, “and don’t forget to swallow!”
Sydney snorts, after a while. But that’s really all the lizard gets in response to his . . . joke. And the slight pause beforehand makes it obvious that my fellow otter snorted not because he found it funny, but for the opposite reason.
Which is more than the lizard deserves, because it was bad. Like, bad enough for even me to get it. Toby probably didn’t, but aside from him I definitely take the longest to understand Flynn’s “humor” out of everyone else in the group. Which means whenever I do get it as quickly as I just did, it’s because Flynn has said the same joke way too many times already for it to be even remotely funny.
My grin refuses to be wiped off my face at this point, but I have to at least roll my eyes. And I do. Not that anyone - not even Jasmynn - could see it, as she presumably flips the gila off and Flynn returns the gesture shortly after.
Diving, or even rising, quicker than a species is built for can result in an uncomfortable if not dangerous build up of pressure somewhere in the ears or the head. The act of swallowing, or holding your nose shut and forcing an exhale through it, can help release this pressure. Flynn being Flynn, he of course decided to wait until I had a girl on my back to share this gem of a repeat joke about swallowing with the group.
He can be so old sometimes. I hope I don’t turn out like that, now that I’m a middle schooler.
The gila was always blunt - I only knew him for about a year before he started going to middle school - but I swear the curses and innuendos suddenly kicked up like tenfold as soon as he changed schools. Leo’s sense of humor changed too after he moved up, but he’s still nowhere near as bad as Flynn. Didn’t make the wolf’s suddenly easy acceptance of Flynn’s middle school-ness any less weird though, or the fact that they both suddenly started growing a lot taller so quickly. And seem to just keep growing taller, nonstop for years.
Their voices changed too! What happens to people in middle school?!
Thankfully Jasmynn didn’t change a bit when she moved up and still hasn’t, so I know I at least have some hope, but seriously. It isn’t even that far into the school year, and almost everyone in my Math class is like another Flynn-to-be.
I stop myself from shuddering. Just barely.
Terrifying.
All that said, I don’t actually see Jasmynn flip Flynn off since my head is still turned away from everybody. I prefer to only turn around while above water when heading back, but it’s not exactly hard to piece together what the fox likely did and how the lizard probably responded. I know my friends pretty well, after all. Just going off the duet of ooo’ s from Leo and Sydney that started up as I felt Jasmynn’s weight on my back shift, and then restarted after a short moment. An exchange of middle fingers sounds accurate. Natural, even.
“. . . That was pretty lame, Flynn”.
Huh. And the unexpected zinger from Carl makes my guess even more likely to be correct.
Carl doesn’t make an effort to shout that line, so it’s just barely audible to me out here in the water, but my smirk is no less genuine for it. We’re in the same year and have been in a lot of the same classes, even throughout elementary school. He isn’t in my Math class this year sadly, as his normalness would have been welcome, but still, we’re real close. He invites me over to his house to play games sometimes, and it’s a big house with a lot of games. His parents are kind of weird though, and I’m not sure if it’s him or his parents that keep me from being invited over whenever they’re actually home. Rare as that is.
They’ve both got icy stares, which is funny to think about when you take into account the fact that Carl’s mom, like, owns a big ice cream business or something. At least until you’re subjected to their frosty gazes for the first time, and you’re suddenly glad to not be invited over when they’re there.
Carl tends to not say or do much when we group up, possibly because of his parents, but it’s obvious he really enjoys his time with us regardless. Away from school and outside his house, Carl just gives off a happier vibe somehow, even if he doesn’t act all that different. I’ve even found he is actually a very passionate guy, it’s just focused into a few narrow areas like comics and games. I remember absentmindedly asking him whether or not he knew who Superwolf was one time during History, and his head immediately snapped towards me, eyes wide and practically sparkling.
Our group tends to not talk long about that kind of stuff though, so most of the time he just stands and shrugs with an easy smile on his face.
. . . I’ve, uh, kind of taken advantage of his interests a few times honestly. Our shared interests; the latest Superwolf issues have been really good! I’ve even introduced him to a few things I saw online that he still raves about whenever we’re sat next to each other in class.
He just . . . gets so happy, and his parents are so rich . . .
Ugh, I’m terrible. But it’s not like any of the stuff I mooch off of him even dents his parents’ money vault! And I really do see him as a good friend! He isn’t just some glorified vendor to me; He’s Carl. He probably spends the most time with me out of everyone in the group, since we share so many classes and he invites me over so often. Honestly, I might be the person he spends the most time with period. And playing games with the guy isn’t exactly a black-hearted thing to do, right?
We even share the same kind of love-and-cringe stance with Flynn, as demonstrated by what the goat just said!
. . . Though, Carl might have just spoken up because he was the first and only one to freak out in the first place upon feeling pressure build up between his ears as I dove him down. He didn’t know about the swallowing trick, and ended up rapidly (and painfully) punching my shoulder a lot of times to get me to swim back up to the surface so he could freak out without worrying about inhaling water. Which would make his comment less about owning Flynn and more about defending his pride.
. . . Meh. Still counts.
“L-lame isn’t a nice word to use, you guys.”
Toby pipes up now with a voice even quieter and harder to hear than Carl’s, despite the lynx’s clear intent to try and speak loud enough for me and Jasmynn to stay in the conversation.
He's always been really quiet, and I’m frankly impressed that Toby can make any kind of noise that I can hear from this far away while not-distressed. Though I guess this would count as being ‘distressed’ on the Toby scale. Sometimes it feels like not a day goes by without Toby crying over something, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me worry about him. A lot.
You know who’s responsible.
I spread my fingers out as my hands move below the lake’s surface, resistance now tumbling around my digits as my hand is made to slow down against the weight of the water, and it helps me feel better. I pull my fingers together once more, and continue on.
Toby is the youngest of our group and the most sensitive, which makes for an interesting point of comparison between him and Flynn, the oldest of our group. They’re practically polar opposites; the lizard happy to throw in a few cuss words into any random sentence just for the hell of it, and the cat going so far as to remind us that we all agreed to use asterisk(s) whenever we cussed in the group chat (Toby, Flynn, and Carl are the only ones with personal cellphones, the rest of us using whatever computer is available. It makes knowing who typed what confusing sometimes, but that’s whatever).
He actually enforces that promise with an almost out-of-character zeal, always promptly asking us to edit the last message we sent at our earliest convenience whenever we forget to do so. Though, the lynx and his family are fairly religious, so maybe I shouldn’t be too surprised. For as frail as he can be sometimes, there’s an unmistakable desire to do good in him that is plain to see, whatever that means to him. And maybe this asterisk thing is an extension of that desire.
Thankfully the desire isn’t too strong. Toby is content, if not happy, to let us mess around and get away with just “censoring” the first letter of bad words. It’s actually pretty fun; there was like a whole week where everyone but Toby kept sending ASCII art made out of “censored” curse words. Carl’s were really big and really good; he actually used the shaping of particular letters to get realistic shading in his pieces, which was just insanely awesome.
Then, Flynn went and sent a picture of a jigsaw-puzzle dildo out of nowhere for some reason and . . . yeah.
Still, for however gruff Flynn likes to act or portray himself as, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to genuinely upset Toby. Just mostly upset him, like how the lizard likes to do. They’ve butt heads a few times, at least as much as someone like Toby can , and Flynn to his credit never fails to apologize at the end of the day. Even if it’s only ever in one-on-one messages between the two that Flynn has Toby delete on his side too, so that none of us can take a peek.
Even if it takes Flynn a few hours of going total radio silence before he can apologize, all of that time presumably spent cussing up a storm where Toby can’t hear as a preemptive raising of meanness in anticipation of said apology. You know, to keep himself at his usual balance.
Toby’s sensitive, and religious, and PC . . .
“Okay, okay,” Carl replies sagely after an almost awkward silence, before clapping his hands together for dramatic effect. “That was a really crappy joke, my dude.”
. . . and he fits into our group perfectly, regardless. Toby moved to Echo about a year after Leo did and was friend-ified by the wolf almost immediately. Our group’s been together for about four years now, and just like with everyone else that Leo convinced to join, Toby’s presence nowadays simply feels like it was meant to be.
Almost everyone.
The endearing image of Toby hurriedly covering his ears at hearing foul language and turning away comes to my mind instantly, and I know that that’s what he’s doing at the moment. He’s done so several times before, pretending like closing his eyes is supposed to counteract the big smile on his face and the way his ears and tail are very visibly not flattened against him. Toby’s reaction to us replacing a bad word with an arguably-less-bad-word-but-still-a-bad word truly never seems to get old.
Carl’s “censorship” elicits a laugh from most everyone, myself included, and even a chuckle from Flynn. Toby’s really the only one who doesn’t make an audible reaction, the lynx too busy making an effort to not listen anymore.
“Chase?”
And Jasmynn’s audible reaction is to try and get my attention.
“Huhwhuyeah?”
I try to stifle my laughter as I turn my head a bit so that at least an ear is pointed at her, to show her that I’m listening. She does the same for me whenever I ask her a question while we can’t see each others’ faces, after all. My ears can’t fold and turn mostly independent of my head like how her’s can, so it’s technically harder for me to show her the same courtesy. Still, I know she appreciates the effort, so I try to make the gesture whenever I remember to.
Everyone else back on land is more or less talking amongst themselves for now, happy to leave the two of us to the usual pre-dive communication, and I drown them out as Jasmynn asks me her question.
She takes a moment to answer me, and her words carry a complex tone I can’t fully parse.
“Are you tired?”