iii. i. making a splash

1K 25 1
                                        

"𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒚,"

"𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒚,"

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆

Halley Byers was in hell. That was the only explanation for the blistering sunburn across her nose and cheeks, and the shrieking half-demon children that barely listened to a word she said.

"So help me God, if you run across this deck one more time—" Her threat fell on a deaf ears as three 11 year old boys darted behind her guard chair, giggling maniacly. She hated this job. She hated this job so much. She'd only accepted it because the arcade shut down, and her old high school swim coach had an in with the pool owner. She was cursing herself for agreeing to it. But a job was a job. And Halley needed the money.

The pool was always crowded, no matter what time of day it was there were always beachballs in her line of sight, a line down the block for a chair in the shade, and a group of middle aged women ogling at the male lifeguards. Always one in particular. Billy Hargrove. The one and only.

Halley had not spoken to Billy all of her senior year. Not after the shit he had pulled with her kids, in her house. Her vow of silence to the Californian transplant was broken once the summer started. Against her best wishes.

Somehow, Billy had been the one to secure the job first, and had a good two weeks on her when Halley was finally added to payroll. Which meant her first day, she was stuck with him as her 'trainer'. She didn't need to be trained. Especially not by Billy. But she had kept that to herself, gritted her teeth, and put on her best customer service voice throughout the day.

Now, because whatever god out there hated her, it was as if every shift she worked, he was there.

Billy had tried to speak to her a few times. Never to apologize. But also never to point the blame. It was as if he thought he could just pretend nothing ever happened and Halley would just follow suit. She would not.

Still, she couldn't help but notice the box of Marlboros that peaked out of his pocket sometimes.

Halley stared at the clock attached to the far wall. It was next to the office door, right above the first aid kit. It was seven minutes after when her shift was supposed to be over. She tapped her finger against the hot metal or her chair's armrest, this was exactly surprising. The professionals she worked with hadn't been on time to relieve her from a shift ever in the time she'd worked. It was stupid to think that that would change.

Her hair was piled up on her head in a messy ponytail, a drastic attempt to try to cool herself off, and to keep it from getting caught in the strap of her rescue tube. Her curls were out in full force because of the humidity in late June, and they were killing her.

Finally, finally, she saw the mom squad swivel on their lounge chairs. That was her cue. Thank God.

Halley started her descent, more than ready to put on a pair of shorts and start the short hike back home, when she saw one of the same boys from before start to take off. Before she could even bring the whistle to her lips, a sharp noise blew out, making all of the patrons look from Halley, then to Billy, who was standing right in front of the mothers.

Halley's comet | Steve HarringtonStories to obsess over. Discover now