Gray World

Chapter One

Addie

Holding my arms out to my sides, I allow my head to fall back and stare at the perfect blue above. The warm wind tickles my skin as the waves lap against my waist. The goose bumps that’ve erupted over my body speak to the crisp water still present on this hot summer day. Lake Michigan isn’t at its warmest until August, but regardless—it’s perfect. Anywhere along the western coast of Michigan is my happy place, especially in the summer. 

“Heads-up!”

I turn toward the warning just as a body crashes into me, knocking me beneath the waves. I wasn’t prepared for the sudden submersion, and I swallowed a mouthful of liquid before I was able to maneuver out from under the person atop me. Coming to the surface, I cough out the lake water. 

“Sorry, Ad.” My best friend Karlie holds my arm as she pulls herself up, a Nerf football in her grasp.

“No worries,” I answer, dragging my palms against my face to clear the wetness from my eyes. 

“You want to join?” She nods toward the football in her hand before swiping a long lock of brunette hair behind her shoulder. 

“Of course.” I grin and drag my legs through the lake until I’m far enough away from Karlie and our teammate Teagan. The three of us form a triangle as we toss the ball amongst ourselves. 

Teagan’s fair skin almost glows beneath the sun. She wears her mop of red curls up in a bun atop her head, leaving her shoulders completely exposed. 

“You put sunscreen on, right?” I call out to Teagan.

“SPF 70!” 

“Good.” I laugh. 

“I put on SPF 35 if you’re checking,” Karlie says with a pucker of her lips. “Though I heard any SPF higher than 30 doesn’t do anything else for you. It’s just for marketing.” 

I shrug. “Maybe, but I’m always going to choose the higher number just to be safe.” 

When it comes to skin protection, I’m more like a middle-aged woman hiding from wrinkles than the sixteen-year-old I am. I come by it naturally, taking after my mom, who has obsessively slathered me in sunscreen every time I’ve left the house for as long as I can remember. My skin isn’t as pale as Teagan’s, but I swear I gain another freckle on my nose each time I’m in the sun.

“Go long!” Teagan shouts toward me. 

I run through the waves, squinting toward the neon ball coming my way. With a jump, I catch it and fall into the water. I hold the ball above my head victoriously when I stand. 

A shrill shriek sounds over the lake, followed by my other bestie’s quivering voice. 

“Ew! No! No! Ew!” Brooklyn chants, and I look toward the beach where she’s running away from. Nova holds something in her outstretched arm as she chases after her. 

I can’t help but laugh. Brooklyn is not a nature person. “It’s probably a dead fish,” I say.

“Or a bug,” Karlie guesses. 

“It could seriously be a handful of sand,” Teagan says, causing Karlie and me to giggle again. 

“True,” I agree. 

The three of us head into the beach, where six of our teammates lounge in chairs, working on their tans. 

Nova and Brooklyn are walking back toward our group. 

“What was it?” I ask.

“Seaweed,” Brooklyn answers with a huff, a grimace across her face as she side-eyes Nova. 

“Yeah, like an inch-long piece.” Nova shakes her head and tosses the small green plant my way. 

I catch the seaweed and hold it in my hand. “It’s not even gross, B. It’s soft.”

“Keep it away from me,” Brooklyn warns. Her shoulder-length sandy-blond hair is fashioned into pigtail buns on her head. She’s one of the best offensive players on our varsity basketball team—a true force to be reckoned with on the court—but taking her in now, with her little buns and scared expression, she reminds me of a young girl.

I chuckle. “You’re so ridiculous,” I tell her, dropping the seaweed.

“Have we had enough beach time?” Brooklyn groans.

A round of no sounds out.

“We’ve barely been out here.” I shake my head.

“It’s sandy and buggy and…” Her voice cuts off as she waves her hand in front of her face, swatting at something only she can see.

“It’s not buggy at all, and it wouldn’t be much of a beach without sand, B,” I tell her. 

“Fine.” She plops down into an empty beach chair. 

Iris holds out her phone from her spot on the last chair. “We need to take a selfie and post it. Get behind me.” 

Ten of us position ourselves behind Iris and smile toward her phone screen. 

“Perfect,” she exclaims. “Hashtag b-ball champions. Hashtag beach babes. Hashtag pure Michigan,” she says toward her phone as her fingers move across the screen. “Our weekend is officially documented.”

Our entire varsity basketball team, minus three who couldn’t make it, are spending this Fourth of July weekend at Coach Brad’s lake house in Pentwater, Michigan, to celebrate our state championship from a few months ago. This is the second summer we’ve come here together, but this summer’s celebration is extra special because this year, we became the first varsity girls’ team from our small town of Chelsea to win a state championship. 

We’re a really young team, too. Most of us are sixteen and heading into our junior year of high school. Coach Brad’s daughter, Mackenzie, will be a senior next year, and the three girls who couldn’t come, Hazel, Micah, and Riley, are seniors this year and off to college in the fall. 

Evie holds up her water bottle. “Cheers to the state champions!”

We all lean in toward Evie, some of us with beverages in our hands and some with just our fists as we chant, “One! Two! Three! Go Dawgs!”

We break away from the huddle, fanning our arms out like petals of a flower opening in bloom. 

“Let’s get a game of volleyball going,” Peyton suggests. “We can pick for teams, but it will be five versus six.”

“It can be an even five. I’m going to sit out,” Brooklyn states. 

“Come on, B. Play,” I urge, wrapping my arm around her waist and giving her a side hug. 

“It’s fine. You know lakes creep me out. I’ll be the ref. It’s cool.” 

“Alrighty then, let’s draw for captains and pick teams!” Mackenzie exclaims. 

We position the floating volleyball net in the lake and drop the anchors on each end so it doesn’t drift away before taking our positions. I can’t help but grin as I look around at all of us, ready to play. Each face is so serious. No one can ever say we aren’t competitive. 

Nevaeh is already arguing after the first play. “It was out!” she protests, throwing her hands in the air. 

“It was in, Nevaeh. All nine of us agree,” Karlie tells her, annoyance present in her voice. 

We’ve been playing basketball together since elementary school, and for the most part, we are pretty close. Then we have Nevaeh, who wants to argue no matter what. I blame her mom, who acts like she’s the second coming of Jesus. I mean, she gave her daughter the name Nevaeh, which is literally heaven spelled backward. She’s conditioned Nevaeh to believe she is always right and always the most important person in any room. 

“Ref?” Hailey shouts toward the shore. 

“It’s in!” Brooklyn calls back. 

Nevaeh rolls her eyes as her fist hits the water. 

“It’s just a light-hearted game of volleyball. Remember we’re all friends here,” Teagan sing-songs, looking toward no one in particular, though her intended recipient is clear. 

“Addie, still your serve.” Nova lobs the ball my way. 

Tossing the ball into the air, I pull my arm back and smack it with my palm, watching as it flies over the net. 

“Mine!” Nevaeh screams, pushing Evie to the side. She dives and misses the ball, falling into the water with a splash. 

“Jeez, Nevaeh, seriously?” Evie rubs her arm as she stands from the water. 

“Foul on Nevaeh!” Brooklyn calls from the beach. “Offensive pushing.”

“That’s not even a real thing, B!” Nevaeh yells toward the shore. 

“I’m the ref. I make the rules. Two more and you’ll be evicted from the game.” Brooklyn presses her lips together to keep from laughing. 

Nevaeh’s face is turning red, and not from the sun. 

“Whatever,” she grumbles under her breath.

Karlie shoots me a look, and I, too, have to press my lips together. Nevaeh is going to give herself a heart attack someday, which really isn’t a laughing matter, but the redder her face gets, the harder I have to try to keep it together. 

“Three serving zero,” I say before hitting the ball over the net again. 

Nevaeh manages not to get booted from the game, though her continual smack talk doesn’t correlate with her team’s losing score. 

I toss the ball to Karlie as she gets into position for what will probably be the last serve of this game. Out of nowhere, a panicked scream bursts across the rippling waves, causing a lump to form in my throat. I know it’s coming from Brooklyn, but it sounds nothing like her. For as much as I’ve heard her shriek in my life, I’ve never heard this sound or anything like it. 

It’s not the scream of childhood fears but one of true terror. 

I whip my head to the side in search of my best friend. My gaze finds her standing on the beach, her hands now covering her mouth as she peers out into the water. Though muffled, her screams are still there, the sound saturated with fear, piercing my heart. I lift my knees high as I race through the water, trying to get to her and make sure she’s okay. 

I’m focused on Brooklyn. The rest of the scene around me is blurred as I race toward her. In the back of my mind, I’m aware of additional yelling now, but I don’t stop. Panic surrounds me as others dart beside me, and there’s still so much shouting, but I press on.

I reach Brooklyn. Her eyes are wide. I hold her arms. Her entire body trembles as I stand before her and force her to look at me. 

“What’s wrong, B?” Her skin is pale, and she looks ill. “What is it?” I say louder, squeezing her arms.

She blinks. 

Once. 

Twice. 

She stares into my eyes and drops her hands from her mouth. Her voice is gravelly with emotion and barely above a whisper, but I hear it all the same. 

“Dead. Body.”