(TW: Self harm mention.)

POV: Rowan

I was really starting to worry about Frankie. She seemed so cool, calm, and collected one minute-- and the next, she was struggling not to punch someone. Namely, Taylor, who seems to have made irritating Frankie into an indulgent little hobby. I'd noticed it as they'd arrived-- that day in the mess hall when Frankie was barred from the campfire, Taylor had been the one causing the problem. 

Even still, that doesn't exactly excuse violent behavior. I would never describe Frankie as particularly well-adjusted, but I have to admit-- tonight was scary. 

I'd gotten her into bed pretty soon after the incident, where she'd fallen heavily asleep after a pretty stressful day. But I wasn't exactly ready to start counting sheep. 

I head back out to the campfire, my sights set on Taylor. I'd seen Dylan give her a pretty good talking-to, but I know that girls like Taylor aren't going to respond well to pleasantries. It was pretty damn cute though, how Dylan had rushed to Blake's defense the second Taylor tried something with them. At least he knew how to keep his cool. 

But, I really can't blame Frankie. Some of the things that come out of Taylor's mouth-- god, they really make my blood boil. And now the whole camp is going to have their eyes on Frankie and I, something I really could have gone without. I'm not exactly fond of drama. 

"Taylor," I mutter, grabbing her by the shoulder. She spins around defensively, her eyes falling into narrow slits as she recognizes me in the ebbing glow of the firelight. 

"Can I help you?" She says sarcastically. I cross my arms, giving the attitude right back to her. 

"Yeah, you can. I need you to come with me," I reply to her, ignoring the judgmental glance of her waifish little friend beside her. She laughs out loud. 

"Sure, 'cause I'm going to follow the crazy dyke's girlfriend into the woods," She mutters, turning back around. 

"Come on, Taylor. I saved your ass like, not even an hour ago. Frankie could have really fucked you up," I point out, starting to feel the anger rising in the back of my throat like a fever warning. 

"Yeah, that's what I wanted," She laughs, sharing a bitchy look with Cal.

That's exactly what I thought. But why?

 I grab her wrist and pull her up forcefully, noticing a series of healing cuts that went up and down the length of her dark arm. She tears her wrist away from me, covering it with her tattered hoodie, and blushes despite her abrasive scowl. 

I stare back at her and she finally shrugs, playing it cool.

"Fine, let's go. Cal-- if I'm not back in ten minutes, send a search party. This one's a little too fond of camp horror stories for my taste.." Taylor announces, stalking pridefully behind me as I lead her into the woods, rolling my eyes all the way. The mere suggestion reminds me that I could always just innocently push her into the lake-- just another one of Dunbrook's victims, right? But that's not really my style. 

Once we finally reach the clearing at kissing rock, Taylor scowls. 

"Really? You brought me here? What do you wanna do-- make out?" She mutters, angrily scuffing her toe through the pine needles and dirt. I lean up against the rock, sighing. Truthfully, it was the most private place in camp. I didn't exactly want Taylor's presence here to dampen the memory of Frankie and I's kiss-- but there weren't exactly a lot of options. And I think taking her to the shower room would be just a little bit worse. 

"Taylor-- come on. Let's be adults, okay?" I groan, already feeling a throbbing headache growing behind my temples. This was a stupid decision, she's never going to calm down and talk to me. 

"Okay," Taylor says, only somewhat sarcastically this time, to my surprise. She leans on the other side of the rock, so that we're back to back with the rock between us. She needed some distance. That was fine. Especially fine, since I'd considered throwing a punch of my own-- I mean, she did call me a dyke. I may be a new addition to the community, but that's a pretty nasty slur. I deserve one punch. 

But alas, I am a camp counselor. And as stupid as it may sound, I solve things with my words. Not my fists. Just like I teach my girls. 

"Did something happen between you and Frankie?" I start, nervously. There is a part of me that is somewhat afraid to hear the answer. Taylor scoffs. 

"I guess I should have figured you'd make this all about her," She snaps back. I sigh. 

"Of course I'm making it about her. You constantly antagonize her," I point out, already too exacerbated to put any emotional effort into this. 

"It's not all about her, Rowan," She snaps back, sounding somewhat defeated. I take a deep breath, grounding myself. 

"Can you tell me what it's about then? And why you take it out on her? " I ask, trying my best to stay calm. She snorts. 

"You're missing my point. You can ask what's going on without talking about Frankie, you know," Her tone is resigned, and I hear the sound of her sliding her back against the rock and sitting down in the dirt. 

"I'm sorry. I guess that makes sense, but take into account that I'm just an outsider here. And all I have to go off of is what I see, and all I ever see you do is insult and misgender Blake--"

"--So then why do you keep asking about Frankie!?" She yells, a bird rustling in the trees finally taking flight, leaving us completely alone. "It's not my fault that Frankie gets involved with me and Blake. And at this point, she might as well beat the shit out of me and get sent the hell away-- at least that's a few months sooner that I'll never have to see her again," She mutters, her usually bold voice starting to become muddled with fear and sadness. I pause for a second, unraveling her sentence in my head and mulling it over. 

"So... this is about Blake?" I ask, finally. I hear her wryly laugh, and then watch as she comes into my line of sight, standing in front of me. Her arms crossed, and jaw set in a scowl. 

"It's about me!" She yells, her firm face cracking into a million pieces.

"Do you have feelings for Blake?" I ask softly, still not able to put the pieces together. She rests her forehead in the crook of her hand, groaning. Clearly I' just too dense to catch the hint she keeps dancing around. 

"No. She-- I mean, they, I guess. They were my friend first," The words start tumbling out of her. "I didn't even know. About any of it. I didn't know Blake liked girls, or girls and boys, or that Blake was non-binary or whatever. I didn't know any of it and we were supposed to be best friends. And then Frankie moved in and everything fucking changed. And ever since I haven't fit in at all. Even fucking Cal--" Her voice breaks. She pauses and takes a deep breath, before starting again. "At first I just wanted Blake's attention again. And then maybe I wanted it to hurt. And then I noticed it started to piss off Frankie, so I started to enjoy it." She laughs dryly. "So noble of her to relentlessly defend her BFF," I notice a tear gliding down Taylor's cheek, and I look away out of politeness. 

"Taylor, wouldn't it be easier to just talk to Blake? And even Frankie?" I say softly, fighting the urge to put my hand on her shoulder. That would be painfully patronizing for her. 

"Maybe that could have worked a few fucking years ago, now," She groans, running the toe of her sneaker back and forth through the dirt. 

"So what? Instead you're just going to keep picking fights? Frankie could really hurt you. She's not huge, but she's a hell of a lot bigger than you. Do you want that? And then she'd be sent to a different group home? That's someones life, Taylor. You can't just play with it--"

"--Frankie makes her own choices, Rowan. It would be her own fault. Besides, I don't care if she hurts me." She sticks her chin out indignantly. 

"Yes. She does. And she consistently makes the wrong choice when it comes to you, and I will not defend that. But you are willing to put your safety at risk-- just to mess with Frankie? Doesn't that seem a little fucked up to you?" I ask, my voice rising, starting to get angry again. Taylor's eyes flash, and I watched her wipe away a couple more tears. And then I stopped, and thought.

Maybe the real fucked up thing is that Taylor would ever be willing to put herself in harms way. Period.

And maybe I'm in a little over my head.  

"Taylor, I really think that we can work this out," I say softly, reaching out for her hand. She doesn't take it.

"How? You keep getting upset at me, and all I'm doing is being honest. And I haven't even been fucking with you for months straight," She points out. That was true, but in the short time I had come to know Blake and Frankie, they didn't exactly seem like unreasonable people. We all cope with the challenges of life differently-- some, with more ease than others-- and clearly, Taylor had taken an angle that had only grown more and more out of hand. 

"I think I could talk to them," I whisper, trying to meet her eyes. She finally glances back. 

"I've known Frankie for years, and Blake even longer. You've known them for, like, two weeks. There's nothing you can say to them that can fix this," She mumbles, once again slouching down to the ground. I squat beside her. 

"Do you want to fix this?" I ask, genuinely. She blinks. 

"I don't know," She says frankly. I chuckle. 

"Listen, Taylor. You don't have to resign yourself to this... role that you've created. Now, I don't really know what the real Taylor is like. But in the last ten minutes I've gone from wanting to strangle you, to wanting to know what the real Taylor is like-- and wanting to know if she might be my friend. I think you should give yourself a chance," I whisper, staring into the horizon, watching the stars twinkle. She glances at me. 

"Okay," She says, gently. I smile at her. "I'll try," 

And with that, I grabbed her hand, helping her up. We walked silently back to camp, a comfortable hum resonating between us. We weren't exactly friends, and I didn't exactly fix things-- but I did exactly what I set out to do here. I stopped talking over her, and I listened. She shouldn't have to figure this out alone, as awful as she had been when I'd first met her. Nobody should have to go through life alone. 

When I reached cabin one, Frankie was sitting on the steps, nearly asleep with her head hung in her palms. 

"Where were you?" She croaks as a I quietly approach. I shake my head, but she grabs my hand and forces me to sit down beside her. She looks so sleepy and cute, it makes me want to curl up beside her in bed. Well, beds. Plural. Close enough. 

"I, well, I went out to set Taylor straight, but I think I did better than that," I said softly, hoping that Frankie wouldn't be upset that I was with her. She cocks her head at me, smiling slightly. 

"You mean to tell me that you drop-kicked Taylor all the way to the moon? How will she breathe up there?" She feigns a gasp and I pinch her leg. 

"Well, truthfully, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I was so mad, Frankie. I was mad at what she'd said earlier-- about me, and then misgendering Blake.. and how she just seems... deadset on antagonizing you--"

"--Does this come to a point or are you just trying to rile me up again?" Frankie jokes. I roll my eyes. 

"It has a point. And, not to go all camp counselor on you, but violence is not  the answer, Frankie--" I try to make myself clear, never wanting to see Frankie like that again. 

"Oh no, please go all camp counselor on me. It's disgustingly hot," Frankie murmurs huskily, wrapping an arm around me and planting a kiss on my neck. I giggle softly. 

"The point, Frankie, is that there's a lot more to Taylor than meets the eye. I talked to her. Like really talked. I learned some things that might surprise you," I say, laughing as she practically ignores me to nibble on my ear. "Did you know that Taylor and Blake were friends?" I ask, quietly, wanting her to take the conversation just a touch more seriously. She pauses. 

"They're not friends," She laughs starkly. I regard her with a half-smile. 

"They were," I insist, brushing a lock of Frankie's short hair behind her ear. It was so short that it immediately escaped, falling back in front of her face as she looked pensively at the ground. 

"What do you mean?" She says, her brow furrowed. I shrug.

"She told me that she and Blake were best friends before you got transferred to the house. It's complicated, I can explain in more detail in the morning," I mutter, my sleepiness finally catching up with me. I rest my head on her shoulder and she pulls me in tighter, planting a kiss on my head. After a moment more, she helps me up the stairs and back into the cabin, sweetly tucking me into my cot. I can't help but notice the far away look that dances behind her eyes, and desperately hope that I didn't say anything wrong.