Chapter Text
"Hey! No running on the pool deck!"
Sweat runs down my face, though I am sitting still in my lifeguard chair. It's hot out. It's expected to be the hottest week of summer. The fact that school's barely ended and we're not even two weeks into June has nothing to do with it. No. The weather just decided to fuck us all over.
And these kids. My god. You'd think these parents would have a handle on their children, given that they took them to a freaking pool, but I guess not. I mean, a few screaming children I can handle (a la previous job), especially if they have reasons, but if everyone is screaming for varying reasons, I don't know who's dying and who I can ignore.
A family of three walks through the pool gates. It's a mother and two young children, presumably hers. She leads them over to a bench, drops her heap of towels there, and turns back around to the gates. Her kids don't follow. They run for the diving board.
I roll my eyes and point my focus on the mother. "Hey, ma'am?" I yell. "Are you going to leave your kids here?"
She wheels around. "Yes," she shouts back. "Is that a problem?"
"You can't leave children under fourteen unsupervised. I'm sorry. It's a safety rule."
After glancing toward the kids, as though wondering if she could get away with telling me they were fourteen, she sighs and returns to the bench. Moments later, a group of rough-housing teenagers splash a large amount of water at her feet, and I smile to myself upon seeing her face. I often wonder how these people come to the pool and expect to stay completely dry.
The girls who were running on deck earlier are now examining the pool cover. I pray they don't do anything ridiculous. It'd somehow be my fault if they did.
God, I hate this job.
The pool gates swing open again, and I brace myself for the worst, but it's not a nightmare family this time. Instead, it's two guys my own age, maybe a bit younger. The taller of the two is much more eye-catching than the other, or maybe that's just me. I mean, he is the only one here wearing long sleeves. I may have seen him on a magazine cover. He's skinny. Too skinny. He's clutching the smaller guy's arm for dear life, and the smaller guy doesn't seem to mind at all. The two of them walk over to one of the secluded benches in the shade, and the taller one sits down on the edge as the smaller one unpacks a massive bag of towels, sunblock, and who-knows-what-else. They make conversation with each other. I don't pay attention to their words.
It's kinda cute, I notice as the smaller one takes off his shirt, how the taller boy's hair is bleached at the ends and flared out, like Alex Gaskarth's was around 2005. He still hasn't taken off his sweater. It's over a hundred degrees out. Is he going to keep it on all day?
The smaller one makes his way over to the diving board, yet the taller one stays on the bench. This is the point at which I realize I am staring, and quickly look away, toward the pool itself. It's not as interesting as staring at the boy.
Some mom has busted out floaties, and half the occupants of the pool are gathered around her, clamoring for one. The other half, mostly teenagers, have basically blocked off one side of the pool and are playing some sort of diving game. Both of these things are against the pool rules. But what am I going to do about it? Yelling "Everyone at this pool is breaking a rule!" would make me sound like a teacher, and it's summer. We're supposed to be done with teachers. So I stay put and place my head in my hands.
I hear a soft chuckle off to the side, and look up and around.
The boy has caught sight of me, possibly realized my dilemma, and is smiling widely in my direction. I glance to my other side, wondering if he may be looking at someone else. There's no one there. He's looking at me.
As an attempt to be "cool", I smile back and gesture toward the pool, like "these guys." He nods and shrugs his shoulders, raising his arms in a "who knows?" position.
I shrug back and turn my attention back to the pool. The girls from earlier are running around on the deck again. "No running on the pool deck," I order again, but they seem to disregard.
I sigh and turn back to the boy. He has shifted on the bench so he is now sitting cross-legged, facing out toward the pool. He is no longer looking at me. Instead, his attention is directed to the other guy, the one he came in with. I wonder if they are dating.
Suddenly, my chair shakes, and I look down. One of the girls is yanking on the metal beams holding it up. "Excuse me," I say. She looks up at me. "Can you, um, not do that?" I ask.
She simply laughs and jerks the beam again. The chair lurches dangerously, and I worry it'll fall. "Please, stop that," I try again.
The only response I get is another giggle as she continues to mess with the beam. I wonder if she's doing it on purpose. Maybe she wants me to fall, because I told off her and her friends for running.
My chair tips to the left, and I don't exactly realize I am falling over until the chair lands on its side and my hand slams against the concrete deck. When that happens, I am certain I've broken it. It hurts, but I don't let on, having noticed I have an audience.
It seems I have attracted the attention of all the pool-goers. Dimly, I wonder if now is a good time to tell them they're doing everything wrong. Then someone touches my face, and I jump.
It's Sweater Boy. My breath catches in my throat. I almost forgot he was here.
"Dude, are you okay?" he says, and I tilt my head up to look him in the eyes.
"Yeah, I'm good," I say, attempting to maneuver out of my chair prison with my good hand. It works, after a few awkward moments that I really hope nobody remembers from that day. "Can you do me a favor?"
"Oh, sure," says the boy.
"Can you go to that office-" I point to the lifeguards' office, "and ask for Derek?" I request, casually holding my injured hand.
"Of course," he says, and meanders over to the office. He walks strangely, like his legs are unusually weak.
Again, I turn to the pool. Everyone is staring at me. I realize this is a good opportunity to be sassy. "Now that I have your attention," I say, as though the whole thing was on purpose, "You should probably put the floaties away and stop with the diving game before Derek gets out here. He's not nice like me."
Reluctantly, the kids begin to hand the toys back to the mom, the teenagers gather in a cluster and speak in hushed voices, presumably deciding what to do now, and the boy in the sweater returns with Derek at his side. I resist the urge to yell "YO, D-BAG, WHAT THE FUCK'S UP!" and wave at them with my good hand.
"Hey, Geoff," says Derek as he arrives. "What exactly happened?"
"Nothing too bad," I say. "But I do need you to cover the rest of my shift."
"Will do," he says, almost happily. "Hey, why is the lifeguard chair on its side?"
I tell him. "...and I've probably broken my hand," I finish.
"Ah," he says. "Yeah, go take the rest of the day off. Jenna won't mind."
"Thanks," I say, and turn to Sweater Boy. "And thanks to you, too."
He smiles shyly. "'Welcome."
"Hey, what's your name?" I ask.
"Um, Awsten," he replies. "It's spelled weird, though...A-W-S-T-E-N."
"Hey, at least it's spelled phonetically," I say. "People never pronounce my name right."
"Why, what's your name?"
"Geoff. G-E-O-F-F," I say, trailing off slightly as my hand throbs like how I wish someone would make my dick. "Anyway, I really should go."
"Oh, hell yeah," says Awsten. "Sorry for delaying."
"No, you're fine," I say as I start to make my way to the office. Derek waves at me, probably not too sorry to see me go, as he actually likes his job.
I pass by Jenna on the way in. She looks at me weird, but I don't care. All I'm worried about at the moment is getting my phone so I can call one of my friends to take me to the hospital. Can't drive one-handed, after all. I'd die.
As I search for the locker room, I wonder what else this job has in store for me. It's only my first day.