Two Fish

five || alaska

All of a sudden she was in the water. It was cold and horribly wet and so restricting. She choked and pushed away from the boy on the edge.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he was saying, his words bubbled by the water splashing into her ears. “Let me help you.”

“No! Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, wrapping her arms around herself. She could stand in the water now. It came up to halfway between her waist and chest.

“Let me help you out,” the boy said. Alaska shook her head fiercely and backed away a little more. Mud and sand mixed together, swirling around beneath her.

“Don’t touch me,” she repeated.

“I’m not going to touch you.” He stepped back from the pond when a fish came perilously close to him. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to push you in.”

Alaska waded to the other end of the pond and hoisted herself onto the edge, squeezing as much water out of her t-shirt as she could. Her jeans were heavy and sodden. “I’m soaked.”

The boy ran his hand through his floppy brown curls. “I’m so sorry, I really am.”

“Thanks a lot. Great start to the day.” She continued to wring her t-shirt dry, muttering about not even wanting to be out. “I wish I’d just stayed at home,” she said, twisting her hair until it was just a damp, matted tangle.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked. He walked over to Alaska but she jumped back.

“Stay there. Don’t come near me.” She put her hand out and stumbled back.

“Ok, sorry, sorry.”

“How about you go get your tardis and we’ll go back in time? Sound good?”

“Sorry,” he said again. Alaska was getting a little sick of the apologies. “My uncle’s the only doctor in the family.”

She wasn’t amused. “Great.” She looked down at herself. The water seemed to have shrunk her jeans and weighed them down, making them ever so tight when she tried to walk. “I can’t wait to walk home like this.”

“Do you want a lift?”

“No, no way,” she said. Just the thought of getting in his car, the cramped, stuffy car of a seventeen-year-old, made her queasy.

“I, uh, think I might have some spare clothes in the boot, if you want.”

“Oh, I do love to dress up as a guy,” she said.

“I have a sister.” He looked Alaska up and down. “She’s about your size.” He  scratched his head. “Sorry, I don’t know what to do.”

“Well you can quit it with the sorry. You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” he said meekly. “Come with me, I’ll see what there is in the car.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she followed him at a distance to the beat-up, rusting, green hunk of metal. He fiddled with his keys, trying to open the boot with fumbling fingers. He mumbled something that sounded awfully close to sorry.

“Here,” he said, fishing out a long t-shirt and soft jogging bottoms of Cathy’s. “Something dry.”

“And where am I supposed to get changed?”

The boy looked around. They were the only two to be seen. “I won’t look.”

Alaska eyed him suspiciously and agreed. He was careful not to touch her when he passed her the clothes, which she appreciated.

“I’m Elver,” he said.

“Elver? That’s your name?”

“Yeah. I know it’s weird.”

“Just a bit.” She shimmied out of the jeans, now far too tight for her liking, and peeled her t-shirt off when she was safely in the jogging bottoms. Elver passed her a plastic bag for the wet clothes.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Why should I tell you?”

“I told you mine.”

“But you pushed me in a pond,” she said with a wicked glint in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. I’m Alaska.”

“And you called me weird?” He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“At least mine’s an actual name.”

“Well, actually, Elver is a name, ‘cause it’s what I’m called.”

Neither said anything for a few awkward seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want a lift?”

Alaska thought about it, hard. “Can you roll down all the windows?” she asked.

“Er, sure,” he said. “Though this one jams halfway.” He knocked on the glass of the back right window.

Alaska took a deep breath and slid into the passenger seat. Elver took a deeper one and got behind the wheel.

“Where do you live?” he asked once all the windows were down.

“Go left out of here,” she said, her arm out of the window and her head as close as she could get it without looking too odd. She didn’t like being in the car, not at all, but it was only a three minute drive. Of all the things she hated the most, being in a small car with a stranger after falling in a pond was pretty high on the list. Elver’s little finger skimmed her knee when he changed gear and she flinched, pressing her legs together against the door. She watched him, his eyes fixed on the road and his tongue sticking out a bit.

“What were you doing in the park so early?” Elver asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said. Elver didn’t respond, focusing on being in the right lane. “Mum said I had to get out of the house. I don’t even like the park. And you?”

He shrugged. “I like to be out of the house.” The car juddered as he nearly stalled. “Why were you so close to the water?” he asked her when they reached a red light. His hand rested on the gearstick.

“I like the water. I like the fish,” she said. Elver shuddered. “What’s that for?”

“I can’t stand fish. They freak me out.”

Alaska frowned at him. “I’m in here, on the right.”

Elver swung into the drive of the fancy house.

“Uh oh.”

“What?”

“Mum’s back. I should go. You should go. Thank you.” She jumped out of the car and motion for Elver to scram. Confused, he did, but she had forgotten her clothes.