Chapter Text
Kie scratched at the ruffle near her neck, watching the dress move when the fan caught it. Pink, of course. Her mom’s choice.
“Can you unbraid it for me, hon?” her mom tapped one of the braids. “Curls will hold better.”
Kie hesitated, then nodded.She didn’t really want to. But her mom looked happy, and Kie didn’t want to ruin that.
She tugged each braid apart slow as she could as Anna plugged in the curling iron. The gloss came next – sticky stuff, dabbed gently onto her bottom lip.
Then came the curling. Her mom worked in little sections, careful not to tug. The iron hissed each time it curled. The smell of hot metal mixed with the lemon floor cleaner the whole house was smelling like today.
“You look beautiful,” her mom smiled through the mirror. “Like summer.”
Kie nodded, watching the reflection of hands pinning her hair with a silver clip. She ran her fingers through Kie’s curls one last time and gave her shoulders a little squeeze.
“You’re my favorite troublemaker,” her mom added, resting her chin lightly on Kie’s head for a second.
Her dad’s voice floated in from the kitchen: “Let’s get moving soon, alright? Ice cream on the way if we’re quick.”
He popped his head around the door a second later. “Whoa. Look at you, kiddo.”
She rolled her eyes a little, but he came over and kissed the top of her head anyway. “You look great.”
“It's just a dress,” she mumbled.
“Yeah,” he winked at her, “but it’s a shrimp roll dress. You wear this and the good hors d’oeuvres come straight to you.”
“I told you,” her mom said, laughing as she grabbed her purse, “they’re only serving shrimp on toothpicks this year.”
“Then we better hurry before someone stabs the last one.”
Kie smiled, then looked at herself again. The smile slipped.
It wasn’t a bad day. The house smelled like lemon and sunscreen. Her mom wasn’t stressed, her dad had been joking all morning, and they were both looking at her like she was special. It made her chest go tight, but not in a bad way.
But the dress felt weird. The sandals pinched, her lip gloss felt like glue. Her arms felt too bare and she kept tugging at the hem without realizing it.
She hated how she looked. And she didn't want to go.
She knew the kids who’d be there – the same ones every year, all polished and polite and loud in the wrong ways. The kind who whispered when she showed up in cutoff shorts and didn’t invite her to their pool parties but still smiled like they’d missed her. Like Hailey Sharp, who always called her “Carrera” in that voice that made it sound like an insult, then said it was just a joke when Kie gave her a look. Or Morgan Reese, who once asked if Kie’s sandals were “a vintage thing” and then laughed with her hand over her mouth. They always seemed to fit in at parties like this. Like they knew where to stand and when to laugh and how to make being mean look casual. Kie had tried once. Played along, laughed when they did. It had felt fake in her throat, and afterward she’d heard them whispering behind the bathroom door. Something about her hair, maybe. Or her voice. She hadn’t asked.
Now, she could already see it. Standing too close to the food table, pretending to look interested in the cheese spread. Probably eating something with parsley on it and trying not to gag. Then maybe Sophie Marks would nudge Kendall Tate and whisper something. They’d both look straight at Kie and laugh like they weren’t even trying to hide it.
What were the boys doing anyway? John B hadn’t been at school the last two days – he was at that pirate festival with his dad. The one he’d been talking about all month. They’d all teased him for being way too into it, but it sounded kind of fun. Camping out, boat shows, stuff like that. He said he was gonna wear a fake sword and everything.
Pope had looked miserable on Thursday, and he was off ever since. She’d seen him flinch when Sam said those messed up things – loud enough for the whole table to hear, and ugly enough that a few people even stopped chewing. Racist stuff.
Before all that, they’d just been sitting around. JJ was braiding her hair, messing with it like always when he was bored. He’d been doing that since third grade and was way better at it than he should be. Once, she asked who taught him. He said, “My dad.” She thought about it sometimes. It felt wrong, somehow. Like those two things didn’t quite go together.
When Sam started in, his hands stopped moving. On the second insult, he shoved his tray hard to the side and stood up. One second he was braiding, the next Sam was on the floor.
It wasn’t like on TV. It was sudden and real and way too much. She’d never seen stuff like that up close. Everyone knew JJ had gotten into fights before but she'd never really seen it.
People were yelling. A teacher ran over, grabbed for JJ’s arm, but he shoved her off without even looking. Kie thought she shouted too, but she wasn’t sure. Everything blurred. Sam was much bigger, and tackled JJ quickly, pinning him down. His fist came down hard. Then again. She tried to grab his shoulder, but someone yanked her back. Her feet stumbled, and her whole body felt shaky after.
Even when down, JJs fists stayed tight like he was still looking for a shot to hit back. He didn’t cry or yell or try to cover up. His face was all twisted up, teeth bared like he might bite someone. It didn’t look like him at all.
It scared her a little. None of it felt like school. None of it felt normal.
Pope must've felt it too - he was still sitting at the table, gripping the edge with his face all pale.
When teachers pulled Sam off, JJ didn’t say anything or look at anybody. Just let them drag him out. And he hadn’t been back after. She figured he was suspended, maybe also grounded. Hopefully his dad wasn’t too mad. The sound of the hit kept coming back to her. His lip had split. He hadn't said a word.
Nobody had even asked if he was okay.
It had been three days and he still hadn't shown up. She'd kept the braids until now. Pope wouldn’t bring it up and didn't want to talk about it either. He kept working on that extra credit thing and acting like everything was fine. But she could tell he was chewing on it even if he didn't say anything. And John B? She hadn't seen him at all, wasn't even sure if he was back yet.
Her mom gave her a soft pat on the shoulder. “You ready?”
Kie nodded, slipping on the sandals by the door. She could do this. Put on the dress, eat the tiny sandwiches. Smile when people told her how grown up she looked. Her parents were so happy to go, she could try to fit in.
But later… she’d go find the boys. Maybe they’d hang out on the dock or float sticks in the marsh, or just sit in the sun until the weird feeling in her chest went away.
That sounded better than shrimp anyway.
_____________________
The house was so clean that you couldn’t even tell if kids actually lived there. Glitter balloons floated over the deck. Someone’s speaker was playing a song Kie kind of knew but didn’t like. A plastic swan drifted in the pool with a puncture near its neck.
The girls looked perfect. Loose white dresses, hair curled but not too much. They stood in little groups, holding drinks with lemon slices and laughing about things Kie couldn’t hear and didn’t want to know anyway.
She stayed near the railing with her lemonade and her itchy dress. Her sandals were already leaving lines on her skin and she shifted foot to foot to make it hurt less.
Morgan Reese walked by without even looking at her. Hailey Sharp gave a half-smile that didn’t mean anything. Nobody asked her if she’d been in the pool yet. When she went to sit near the edge of the deck, Tess dropped her tote bag on the chair right as Kie reached it. No eye contact. Just tossed it like Kie wasn’t even standing there. Never mind – she pretended like she hadn’t meant to sit anyway.
A mom gathered everyone for a photo. The girls rushed over fast, arms around each other, all facing the same way. Kie hung back, then slipped into the side. Sophie looked over the group and said, “Wait, who’s in the back?” and everyone laughed. The version that got posted later didn’t have Kie in it.
The snack table was where she spent most of her time after that. Not because she was hungry, but because it was something to do. The tablecloth had a lemon pattern on it, and someone had dumped a bunch of crackers near the dip. Her drink was mostly ice, but she took a sip anyway, pretending she didn’t notice how nobody talked to her.
Then she heard Tess.
“That Maybank kid’s actually dangerous. He went off on Sam for no reason.”
“What do you expect? His whole family is nuts. My mom said his dad got arrested last year.” Morgan’s voice cut in: “And Heyward? I heard he just sat there. Didn’t even say anything. Weird.”
“Why is Sam even at that trashy school? Like, seriously” Sophie added. “His mom’s talking about calling the school board again.”
There was a small pause. Someone crunched a carrot stick.
“Why does Kiara hang out with them anyway?” Sophie asked. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Her parents must be losing it.”
Then, Hailey: “And John B? Isn’t his dad that guy who lives in a fishing shack out in the marsh? My cousin swears he builds bombs in his backyard.”
Kies fingers tightened around her cup. Lemonade sloshed near the top. Her hand was shaking so she set it down.
It wasn't in the plan to walk over. But one second she was frozen, the voices sliding right through her, and the next she was moving. They didn’t notice her at first. Sophie was still laughing at her own joke, holding a tiny skewer in one hand. Morgan picked at a shrimp cocktail looking bored.
“You don't get to talk about my friends!”
That got their attention. They turned, blinking like she’d wandered into the wrong room. For a beat, no one said anything. Then Tess adjusted her sunglasses. “God. Relax.”
“We’re just talking,” Sophie looked at her as if Kie was being dramatic for no reason.
Kie didn’t back off. “You just sit there acting like you’re better than everyone.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Maybe I am. Not my fault you get mad every time someone says the truth out loud.”
“He punched Sam,” Sophie said. “Maybank’s seriously messed up. Everyone knows it.”
“He hit him once,” Kie shot back. “Sam freaked out way worse.”
Hailey grabbed another cookie. “Still, he started it.”
Kie’s brain kind of froze. “Do you even know what Sam said?”
“Ugh, whatever.” Morgan rolled her eyes. “That Heyward kid’s supposed to be smart, right? Then he melts down over one joke? Come on.”
“It wasn’t a joke,” Kie’s ears were burning. “It was messed up. You weren't even there.”
“Why are you even sticking up for them?” Tess squinted at her. “They probably only keep you around ‘cause you bring food.”
That hit hard. She wanted to say they’d stick up for her too. That they always had. But her throat went tight.
“You don’t know anything about them,” she managed instead.
“We don’t have to. They don’t even try to be normal.”
Kie stared.
“You’re seriously embarrassing yourself.” Morgan gave her an amused look. “For real.”
Then Sophie smiled – a sweet, mean kind of smile.
“It’s kinda sad. You used to be normal. Now look at you, like... trying to be trash.”
The shove was almost instinctive. Kies hand moved before her mind caught up. Full-force. Just anger and heat and too many things jammed up at once.
A loud gasp, then Sophie stumbled backward, hit the edge of the deck with one foot, and slipped. She failed, then hit the water with a splash. The fake swan rocked sideways.
Everything went silent.
For a second, nothing happened. Then the yelling started. Someone shouted her name – one of the moms. Tess shrieked and dropped her paper plate.
Kie didn’t look at any of them. Her hands were shaking, but she didn’t care. Her heart was loud in her chest, but she didn’t care about that either.
“Fine. I'll be trash. Better than whatever you are.” It wasn't loud, but clear enough for them to hear.
Then she turned and kept walking.
_____________________
The car ride wasn’t quiet so much as loaded. Her dad’s jaw stayed tight the whole time. Her mom stared straight ahead, white-knuckling the wheel. Nobody spoke, at least not for the first ten minutes.
Kie sat in the back with her arms crossed, sandals kicked halfway off, watching the trees go by. Her face still felt hot.
“Do you even understand what you did?” her mom’s voice was shaking a little. “You pushed a girl into a pool in front of twenty families. Did that somehow seem like a good idea to you?”
“She was saying stuff,” Kie muttered. Sophie’s face right before she insulted her – that nasty little smile – was still there, fresh and clear in her mind. The smug bitch had it coming.
Her dad turned halfway in his seat. “That’s your excuse?”
Kie looked out the window while Anna kept going. “These families come into our restaurant. They know us. They talk. You think this won’t get around?”
“So that’s why you’re mad? Because of what people might say?”
“Watch your tone.” Her dad’s voice dropped and Kie really wanted to push it, but she didn't this time. He turned to her again, speaking softer now “We worked so hard to give you something better. And you go and act like this?”
“She called me trash.”Kie stared down at her knees.
Her mom let out a breath. “You don’t get to act like that just because someone’s mean.”
“You didn’t hear what they were saying. About the boys.” This wasn't fair. Why didn't they even try to understand?
“I don’t care what they said. You still don’t get to shove people in pools,” Mom wasn’t yelling, but it was the tone she used every time Kie brought up the Pogues – a little disappointed, a little worried, and very condescending. Like they weren’t her best friends, just some weeds in the garden. “And honestly? Ever since you’ve been spending so much time with them… you're acting differently. And not in a good way.”
“They’re my friends.”
“They’re trouble.”
The words stung, even if she saw them coming.
“You just have to try,” her dad cut in. He always noticed when Kie and her mom went too far. But nothing he could say now would help. “That’s what we’ve been doing all along. It takes effort to fit in. Sometimes you just have to meet people halfway.”
Kie lifted her chin and stared them down. “I don’t want to fit in with them.”
The rest of the ride came back in pieces. Her mom saying things like we raised you better and how could you think that was okay. Her dad saying she couldn’t blow up every time she felt cornered. Her mom asking what kind of girl does that.
But underneath all of it – all their talking, their being mad, was something else. As if they were scared she didn’t fit.
Like she wasn’t the daughter they hoped for.
Wrecking everything wasn't the plan. But still – even knowing it was a big deal, she couldn’t feel sorry the way they wanted her to.
What stuck instead was the heat in her chest. She felt angry. And a little proud. And mostly like she didn’t belong anywhere right now.
________________________
The lamp was on, even though the sun was still up. Kie stared at the blank piece of paper in front of her. Her mom had said to write something respectful. Thoughtful. Whatever that meant.
She tried.
Dear—
The pen hovered. Her wrist didn’t want to move. She could still hear Sophie’s voice. Trash. They’d said it like it was funny. Like the Pogues were some other species.
It made her stomach twist, but also… it wasn’t just them. The boys never said anything mean like that, but sometimes they didn’t have to. You could feel it.
JJ sometimes called her Princess. Said her backpack probably cost more than his whole house. Laughed when she flinched at something gross, or when she offered to share her snack and he said, “What is this, astronaut food?”. There was a grin on his face every time, like it was just messing around. But it stuck – a reminder that she didn’t come from the same place.
The one time she complained about the AC not working in her parents’ car, Pope’d looked at her like she was from another planet. Even John B had shot her a funny look when she asked why they didn't just call someone to help when the Twinkie broke down. He didn’t say anything, but she remembered that look.
It bugged her more than she’d admit. Pretending didn’t help. Still – with them, she didn’t have to twist herself up to fit. They teased her for everything – her chapstick, her sunscreen, her stupid frozen yogurt obsession. But it didn’t feel like being shut out. She could mess up and yell and say weird stuff and cry when she got stung by a jellyfish. And they still passed her the bag of chips or let her pick the next game like nothing happened.
These girls didn’t know a single thing.
JJ always noticing when she was sad, even when she tried to hide it. He'd stayed quiet that whole afternoon when she was upset with her parents fighting last month – just tossed a pebble in the marsh, said “Parents suck.” and sat with her until she felt better. Then gave her his favorite gum, the last piece in the pack, like it was no big deal. “Don’t choke on it.” He didn’t wait for a response, just looked off toward the trees
Didn’t know Pope stood outside the school office with her after she got detention, even though he had math club, or how he slid a copy of the homework she’d lost her mind over into her binder and pretended it had always been there.
They never saw John B daring her to jump off the dock, just to make her laugh. Never knew he biked across town one night just because she sounded off and bailed on movie night.
And they’d never get how he always gave her his hoodie without asking, or how Pope quietly split his lunch when she forgot hers, or JJ cracking jokes even when everything felt like it was falling apart.
They weren’t trash. They were her friends.
Kie looked back at the page and picked up the pen.
Dear Sophie,
You don’t know shit.
And I’m not sorry.
Kie.
She set it right in the middle of the desk. Then slid the window open, as quiet as she could and slipped out, sandals in one hand. She had somewhere else to be.
_______________
The pool water looked way too blue. Like a cartoon or some shit. The grass was too short. The playlist was something she’d heard on TikTok. Same house. Same pool. The exact spot on the deck she’d launched Sophie from almost three years ago.
Except now Sophie was smiling at her across the pool, sipping something fizzy and saying she liked the blonde streaks. Like none of it ever happened.
One of the lounge chairs near the deep end had her name on it, apparently. Her sundress stuck a little behind her knees when she sat. Right sandals this time. Nails matched. Legs shaved.
Sarah handed her a smoothie and grinned. “See? Told you you belonged here. I'm so happy you came.”
Kie smiled and took it. It was too sweet, and her lip gloss stuck to the straw.
By the pool, the other girls from the Academy were laughing at something dumb, tossing chips as if they were twelve. Nobody asked who brought her -- that part was new. She’d stopped getting the side looks weeks ago. After the third party or maybe after the fundraiser. Hard to tell.
Her tan had evened out months ago. Hair bleached lighter now, after three tries with Sarah and one tone correction. She hadn’t tugged at her dress in at least ten minutes, but the fabric at her ribs felt weird and her scalp burned a little from the bleach.
No one was staring at Kie weird. No whispers behind her back. And Sarah was smiling like this was all… normal.
The girls were still laughing. Someone shouted for more sunscreen. Sarah leaned back with her feet up, looking completely at home.
Kie took another sip of the smoothie ignoring the way sugar coated her teeth. Maybe this was what “trying” looked like. Just enough to work.