Chapter Text
Sleepover
Moonlight and the sounds of crickets chirping seep through the glass panes of Anne Boonchuy’s bedroom window. Spread out along the floor, illuminated only by the moon and the pale light of a TV with a DVD screensaver bouncing at its edges, Anne, Sasha, and Marcy slept off another one of Anne’s famous sleepovers. Marcy was sunk deep into the beanbag that she had co-opted for herself a long time ago, while Anne and Sasha were bundled together under a blanket on the shag carpet. The only thing to cut through the calm was the dull drone of a snore that radiated out of Anne’s sinuses. Despite that, all three of the girls were sound asleep, tired from a long day of fun.
WAKE UP (wake up) WASH YOUR FACE AND PUT A LI -*
Sasha switched off the alarm on her phone as quickly as she could. She held her breath as she looked toward Marcy. No movement. She then slowly looked over her shoulder at Anne.
*SNOOOOOOOORE*
Sasha quietly exhaled. She usually had to wake up at 5am every morning to walk her dog (General) since her mom didn’t want to do it, and nothing gives you a shot of adrenaline better than Chop Suey . Sasha layed back down on the carpet and stared at the ceiling. She knew that it was 5-o-clock, so it would at least be another hour or two before the others woke up. It was too little time to really get back to sleep, so she decided to just stare at the ceiling and be with her own thoughts.
…
“Welp. I’m bored,” Sasha thought to herself as she flipped herself over onto her stomach, pulled back out her phone and started scrolling through Instagram. Distracted by the endless feed of people pretending that their lives are better than hers, she didn’t notice when the snoring stopped. Eventually, out of the corner of her eye, Sasha noticed the whites of two large hazel brown eyes staring at her from the darkness.
“Mornin’ Boonchuy. Did I wake you up?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay.” Anne yawned. “What time is it?”
“5:19… So, how long have you been staring at me?”
“S-staring?!” Anne said, flustered “I wasn’t staring!”
“Yes you were. I saw you.” Sasha smirked and repositioned to face Anne, propping up her head with her arm. “See something you like?”
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-,” Anne was thrown fully off guard. As she looked at Sasha, her cerulean blue eyes pierced through her heart and soul, even in the bedroom’s pale darkness. Like they always do. “-hhhhhhhhhhh…”
Sasha, not expecting this kind of response, began to blush, slowly turning a rosy beet red.
“I’m joking! I’m joking.” Sasha waved off her scarily successful attempt at flirting and turned back on her stomach to look at her phone and hide her imminent tomatofication. “You are so gullible.”
Anne gasps.
“Gasp! I am not gullible.”
“Seriously?” Sasha had mastered the art of talking and scrolling at the same time. “Remember how, for the first week of 6th grade, you were the only middle schooler in the world who still believed in Santa?”
“Oh, I’m sorry . I didn’t get the memo that apparently EVERYONE ELSE got at the end of elementary school that there happened to be a GRAND CONSPIRACY that EVERY ADULT ON EARTH was in on.” Anne noticed that she was starting to get loud, so she looked over at Marcy to see if her and Sasha’s conversation had woken her up.
Marcy had been awake since Sasha’s alarm went off. She was pretending to be asleep.
Anne whispered, “Was I supposed to just figure it out on my own?”
“That’s what Marcy did. She was the one that told me that it wasn’t physically possible. ‘Did you know…” Sasha pulls out her Marcy impression, “Santa would have to move at several times the speed of light to get to every house in one night? People wouldn’t be able to sleep because of the constant sonic booms!’ Thanks Marcy. But everyone else knew by middle school. It was heartbreaking that I had to tell you, but I couldn’t have you going around embarrassing yourself.”
“That was the day my inner child died and I was flung headfirst into adulthood,” said the 13 year old at her sleepover. Anne turned her head to gaze at the moon and contemplate her lost youth. The moon, ever-looming and foreshadowing, gazed back at her. “Whatever. Everyone believed in Santa. That doesn’t make me gullible.”
“Okaaaayyyy…How about that time you thought you were pregnant? Oh my God, remember how your Mom reacted when you told her?” Sasha began to chuckle at the thought.
“Hey! That was your fault! Well, mostly Maggie’s, but also yours!”
Sasha, immediately defensive and at full attention, “My fault!? How was it my fault?”
“You were the one who made me think I was pregnant by kissing me!”
…
…
“Oh…yeah,” The Mean Girls swagger in Sasha’s voice dropped. “Sorry about that.”
She would never admit it, but Sasha still thinks about that kiss she had with Anne that night some years ago. It never quite sat right with her. It was meant to be a happy memory. After all she had gotten what she wanted. But the more she thought about it, the more the whole situation felt wrong .
Anne was not used to hearing Sasha apologize. In fact, it felt unnatural. “It’s alright Sasha,” she said, already trying to mediate, “I mean, It’s not like you actually got me pregnant.”
Sasha scoffed at that. “No, no, it’s not alright. I basically forced you to kiss me. I even had to trick you into doing it.”
“Ha! What? How did you ‘trick me’ into kissing you?”
“Well, what I said back then was that I wanted to practice kissing…” Sasha hesitated as she realized what she is about to admit, “...but really I just… I dunno… wantedtokissyouorsomethingIguess.”
The next few seconds felt like an eternity. The air hung completely still in the bedroom as Sasha (and Marcy) waited for Anne’s response. It was definitely what one would call a Pregante Pause.
“Huh. I guess I am pretty gullible.”
Neither of them knew where to go from there. So, Sasha did what we all do when we are next to another person we don’t particularly want to talk to and started looking at her phone again. It may have been a bit rude, but it was worth it to avoid eye contact right now.
Anne was the one who broke the silence. “So, uh, Sash,” Anne said while blushing and scratching her head, “I was wondering if you’d like to…kiss?”
Sasha immediately dropped her phone onto the pillow and looked at Anne with a face of utter bewilderment. As blood rushed into her cheeks her face turned as red as a stop sign, with no chance of hiding it this time.
As Sasha’s eyes shot wide open, their cold blue once again pierced Anne’s soul like an ice dagger. “Oh my God, nevermind! Forget it!” Anne said, attempting to initiate a tactical retreat. But then something strange happened. Anne watched as the icey blades turned into soft pools. As Sasha buried her face deeper into her pillow, Anne saw her turn from a stalking predator into a humbled kitten. It was a Sasha she’d never seen before.
“Again? Do you really want to?” Sasha made sure to say that last part. She didn’t want it to be like last time. Her voice was muffled by the pillow that covered her mouth. She was shielding herself because this was the most vulnerable she’s been with someone in a long time.
Anne nodded violently. This whole situation may have left her dumbfounded, and she may be confused on how she got herself to this point, but the one thing she knew for certain was that she wanted to kiss Sasha right now.
As Sasha propped herself up on her elbows, she began to twirl a strand of hair in her fingers and look down sheepishly. She couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with Anne when she said, “I would like that, actually…” When she looked up she saw Anne’s face wearing an expression that said *Holy Shit This Is Actually Happening*.
Quickly, they positioned themselves to face each other, balancing on their hands in a pushup position, looking into the other’s eyes while their noses sat inches apart. They stayed there for a moment, one small quiet moment, until suddenly they closed their eyes and leaned in until their lips met in the middle.
The kiss was a bit awkward technique-wise, but it felt right. Soft. Warm. Kind. And no one peeked halfway.
As they pulled away from one another, both their minds were running at a million miles per hour. ‘Did that just happen?’ ‘What now?’ ‘What do I say?’ All these questions and more were instantly discarded when they both heard a deep gasp coming from across the room. They snapped their heads toward the sound to see Marcy, sunken into her beanbag.
Marcy was looking at them with 100% of her eyes.
“Marcy!” They both shrieked in unison as Marcy giggled at their embarrassment. Sasha picked up her pillow and hurled it at Marcy. She ducked it, spun around, picked up her own pillow and, with laser accuracy, nailed Anne in the face with it.
“Hey!” Anne yelled as she stood up, pillow in hand but with no intention of throwing it. She was coming out swinging. At exactly 5:25 am that day, the Great Pillow War of 2019 broke out in Anne Boonchuy’s bedroom.