Wrangling teenage emotions is hard enough on good days, but what if on bad days they could manifest as giant flesh and blood monsters?
Pacific Rim meets Friday Night Lights as knee-jerk rebel Sage Sawyer is forced to join her high school "tourneytub...
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There's something different about Peter.
Artie can't quite put his finger on it, but he's known his best friend long enough to realize when something's up.
It's not necessarily bad.
In fact, Artie is pretty sure it's a good thing.
Why else would Peter have that certain new spring in his step? A brand new sparkle on his face? Twinkle in his eye?
Yup. It's definitely something...
But what? Peter hasn't said a word about it yet.
It's Wednesday after the Fireflies game and, as always, Artie is working in the tubhouse. He wants to make sure all the tubs are ready for Friday's game against the Trollwake Narwhals. Trollwake is located in Canada.
And Canada in December?
Artie just has to make sure all his precious burgundy babies are running smoothly. So he's tinkering and tampering and testing, with Peter beside him handing him the right tools for the right tasks. They are a well oiled machine, pun definitely intended, pumping vegetable oil into the tubs' fuel tanks. The two friends have fallen into a comfortable, companionable silence.
Until Artie's phone buzzes, of course.
It's Jenny.
He blushes.
Peter notices him blushing.
"Ha! Are you still talking to that engineer from West Glancing?" Artie can feel his buddy nudging him. The tub whisperer's face is all the answer Peter will ever get.
"Aw man, Artie has a crush, Artie has a crush!" Peter sings, as if they're still in middle school or something.
"Man, shut up," Artie nudges Peter back, grinning, "so what? Jenny and I have just been texting back and forth these past few weeks, is all. Nothing more. Just perfectly innocent texting." Artie says.
"Yeah, OK bro, whatever you say..." Peter rolls his eyes.
Artie desperately scrambles to change the topic of conversation. "So what about you, huh? What's made you so happy recently?"
Peter's formerly bemused expression dies on his face. He looks away. "Nothing." He says.
Artie can tell it's actually everything though.
"No, c'mon man, don't be like that. Tell me what's really going on with you." He pleads.
"I just don't want to talk about it, OK? At least not right now, is all." Peter rubs his arm nervously. Artie can't remember a time when he ever saw his friend act like this. He rolls his wheelchair over to him and reaches up to pat him on the shoulder. He can't quite reach, considering how tall his buddy is, so he resigns himself to patting Peter on the lower back.
Artie doesn't understand. Not at all. But he's going to try his damned hardest.
This is the kind of friend he wants to be.
"Sorry man. I wasn't trying to be a jackass about it or anything, I was just asking."
Peter finally looks up, his features brightening. "Nah. It's OK. I'm sorry. I'm just not ready yet, you know? Even to tell you. But I promise, when I am ready to talk about it, you'll be the first person to know."
Artie grins.
He chooses not to press Peter any further on the matter. He trusts his friend will eventually tell him.
When he's good and ready.
***
Photo courtesy of Tory Bishop on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@torybgd. Edited.
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