“Do you have anyorange juice?” Isla leaned over to the small table full of drinks and snacks, and whispered the words to the man behind the table as though she were asking for drugs and not a children’s beverage.
He gave her a look that suggested all his close friends had just died. “No. Just wine.”
“Yep, okay.” She gave him a thumbs up. “I was asking for a friend.”
“Okay.”
“He’s allergic to wine, so.”
“Okay.”
Embarrassed, Isla slowly crept back into the crowd.
On most days, Isla loved working with the David Suzuki Foundation (DSF) in British Columbia. The people were kind and inspiring, and the work they did was meaningful. The free snacks were also a bonus.
But tonight,her varsity soccer team at UBC had just lost the season, and all she wanted to do was collapse in her bed and take a year-long nap.And cuss at the referee who’d given her a yellow card.
And though Isla loved talking about carbon emissions as much as the next girl, right now, she did not want to be at the bi-annual DSF conference with a hundred other people, waiting for their president to congratulate them on their recent projects. She was far too drained to think.
Trying to look like she wasn’t just avoiding people, Isla leaned against one of the pillars in the corner of the hall and pulled out her phone, thumbing through her 45 messages and wondering if she should reply, when there was a loud, painful screech of a microphone.
“Whoa,” Chris appeared at the small podium at the front of the room, trying to fix the mic. “Sorry, guys! Technology hates me.” He stoodwearing an immaculate black suit, his brown hair artfully tousled. “Hi! To those of you who don’t know, I’m the president, Chris. If you guys would take your seats, and we can get this conference going!”
Isla dragged herself to one of the seats furthest from the stage and leaned back, arms crossed.
Chris went on,and Isla felt the words part around her like water over a rock – she clapped politely with everyone else, though they could have been clapping for the moon landing, for all she knew.
Stupid referee, Isla thought. This season was supposed to be theirs. The girl on the other team had been diving like bloody Neymar, but no one had called her out.
“Lastly, I wanted to talk about the Young Voices Gala coming up.” Chris said, stacking up his que cards and smiling. The word ‘gala’ snagged her attention, and Isla looked up, interested.
“So, I’ll explain the basics: a few young people will be asked to give a two-minute elevator pitch about their project. The investors will choose their favorite pitch, and the winner will get both monetary and public support. Now, the event is a month from now, and the DSF will be sending two ambassadors. Just a show of hands, would anyone be interested –”
Isla’s hand shot up faster than a rocket, narrowly missing the lady by her side, who gave her a dirty look. On the other side of the room, a Latino girl beat her by a millisecond. Another boy raised his hand too, and Isla was right about ready to declare war on both of them. She needed this win.
Chris blinked, before breaking into an awkward laugh. “Well, we only have two tickets. So.”
“Exactly a month from now is Christmas break.” The other girl said promptly,looking at the boy who’d raised his hand. “Ajay, weren’t you going back to Ontario then?”
He lowered his hand defeated. “Damn it, I already booked the plane ticket.”
“It’s settled, then!” Chris declared. “The two people going will be Sofia and. . .what’s your name, love?”
Chris was looking politely at Isla, who blinked and lowered her hand. “Um, Isla. Second year at UBC.”
“Alright. Sofia and Isla, please stay for a bit after the meeting. Other than that, are there any questions or concerns about today’s briefing?” When he was met with silence, he spread his armsas though to give everyone a collective hug. “Good job, everyone! Cheers to a better world!”
There was a splatter of applause as people slowly began to leave. Numbers were exchanged, and ‘goodnight!’s floated around the room as the staff began to fold up some of the chairs. Isla made her way to Chris, who was laughing with one of the staff members by the podium, and she couldn’t help but think he would make an interesting talk show host, what with his broad smiles and enthusiasm. How old was he, anyway? Thirty?
“Hi, you two!” Chrisfinally turned to face Sofia and Isla. “It’s so good to see such strong young women rising up to this opportunity!”
Sofia smiled, pushing the pencil in her bun further in. “What do you need?”
Chris explained – each of them would have to give a short speech on a topic of their choice, no longer than seven minutes. The speech had to, of course, be approved by the DSF committee first.
“I’ll send you both an email with all the details,” Chris said, taking a note on his iPhone X. “You’ll have to thank the Gala on behalf of DSF. Just network and mingle. Meet some people! Have fun!” Sounding like an enthusiastic dad, Chris gathered the two of them in a hug, barely managing to avoid impaling his own eye with Sofia’s pencil.
Isla turned to Sofia, watching Chris leave. “Why is he so energetic?”
“Magic of coffee,” Sofia smootheddown her cashmere sweater and smiled at Isla shyly. “I’m Sofia, third year.”
“Isla.” She motioned with two fingers, and said, “give me your phone.” Sofia handed it wordlessly,and Isla added her number before giving it back. “So, we’ll keep in touch. Maybe do something similar for our speeches.”
“Sure, yeah,” Sofia nodded, pushing back her glasses on the bridge of her nose with her middle finger.
“Are you flipping me off?”
“I – What?” Sofia snatched her hand back, red blooming on her cheeks. “No! I –”
“I’m kidding.”
“Oh.” Sofia looked delightfully flabbergasted.
“Okay.”Isla grinned, amused. “I’ll text you.”
Isla all but forgot about the Gala for the next week, until she got a text:
Hey, it’s Sofia. Chris says he wants to see the speeches by next week.
Isla groaned and leaned back in her chair, her hand jumping to her mass of long red curls. She texted back:crap, I forgot about that.
A beat later, Sofia responded.Oh?
U done urs?
Yeah
What’s it on
Innovation in sustainable transportation. Encouraging youth involvement
Isla blinked.Damn. Intellectual, huh?
Lol sure. Then: need any help w yours?
Maybe? Aren’t u busy w finals
I’ll be fine. Only worried abt math
Ew math
What are you, an arts student?
Prejudice!
Lemme guess – majoring in English lit?
How do you –
I have a sixth sense, dwai
Isla barked out a small, surprised laugh. Look over my rough draft for me?
I should be asking YOU that, Weasley
Prejudice against redheads, too!
🙂 send it when you’re done
thank u, Isla punched out, grinning. Sofia was. . .oddly funny.
Isla threw her phone back on the desk, adding ‘DSF SPEECH!’ to the to-do list. Then she went back to her Beowulf essay.
Isla and Sofia had been texting quite a lot since then, almost every day, though Isla hadn’t told any of her friends about her yet. Sofia was. . .a surprisingly mixture of sweetness and dark humor. Isla would not have been surprised if she was secretly a cult leader for people with pretty hair.
Sofia told her about her loud roommate whose boyfriend always visited their dorm at odd hours. She told her about listening to Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez – and defended her music choice when Isla laughed at her – and talked about missing her mother’s cooking.
In return, Isla told her about her favorite authors and books, her three dogs, and how she was going to spend her Christmas being lonely in an empty house, binging Brooklyn Nine-nine. She bombarded her friend with pictures of herself and her dogs, and Sofia responded with pictures of her desk, which was littered with textbooks and loose paper. Never a selfie, though.
Ten days before the Gala, Chris asked them both to check up with him. They met at a local café, Isla grim at the wet, frizzy state of her free curls, and Sofia looking nothing if not pristine, the cool wind and rain whipping a soft blush to her cheeks, her black hair done up in an artistic-looking messy bun.
Sofia’s glasses fogged up when she entered the warm café, and for a moment she stood at the door and fanned at them, which Isla found disarmingly cute. Chris waved at them both, his umbrella dripping water all over the small table in the corner of the café.
When they’d all ordered – black coffee for Chris, expresso for Sofia, and mint tea for Isla, who was judging them both – Chris enthusiastically slammed down their speeches on the table and showered them with praise, which Sofia uncomfortably accepted.
Chris had just left – realizing he was late for a date – when Sofia cleared her throat reluctantly.
“I might stay,” Sofia gave her a small, uncertain smile, before pulling out her despairing mess of notes and post-it’s. “Study with me?”
“Yes.” The word came out of Isla’s mouth before she realized.
They were the last customers to leave. The two of them stood at the door, smelling the rain and dirt, the night air cool against their cheeks. The usually-brimming bars were all but deserted as students prepared for their first term finals.
“What are you wearing?” Isla blurted out just as Sofia turned to leave. “For the Gala, I mean?”
“Oh,” Sofia blinked, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “Um. I’m torn between this white dress and an olive green one. Hang on.” She pulled out her phone, scrolled up through her pictures, and handed it to Isla.
The first dress was a soft ivory, with long, lacy sleeves. An image of sophistication.
Isla swiped. The second dress was a dark, rich green, with long sleeves and a plunging neckline. The shirt flowed freely to the floor, fanning out almost like a ballgown. And – good lord, there was a slit.
Swallowing hard, Isla handed the phone back. “Green.”
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay. Well.” Sofia smiled. “I’ll text you later?”
“Yep.”
As they parted ways, Isla told herself the cold was the only reason her cheeks were red.
Five days before the Gala and two days after Isla had finished her exams,Sofia sent her a victory text. The second the notification sounded, Isla pulled off her rubber gloves andsnatched her phone from the couch, grinning.
I JUST FINISHED MY FINAL EXAM OMG, it read.
YAY HOW WAS IT, Isla typed back.
I THINK I ACED IT???
OFC U DID!!!!!
I DIDN’T LEAVE A SINGLE QUESTION BLANK
OMG YAY! THAT’S AMAZING! Then, after a pause, she added, where r u now?
Walking back to my room
ur not celebrating?????
Nope
whY
Cuz. Sofia sent her a gif of a messy-haired baby plummeting face-first into a couch and falling asleep.
Isla smiled, before –
Wait. Sof, how long since you last slept?
Five minutes later, Isla received a picture of Sofia’s bed and desk, both of which were littered with yet more loose paper, textbooks, and pens. The accompanying text was: Finallyat the dorm! No roommate!
Answer the question!
Um. Idk. Maybe 38 hours?
SOFIA
It’s fine, I had coffee
Go sleep!!
Later, dw
SOFIA
I’m okay, I promise. What are you up to rn?
Um, I can’t text
Oh
Isla looked at her phone, then the mess on the floor, then her sleeping black Labrador.
“Screw it,” she muttered under her breath. Then she called.
“So Scottgot sick and barfed all over the floor,” was Isla’s greeting when Sofia picked up, setting the phone on the couch and standing before it in her rolled up pajamas and an old white shirt.
Sofia squinted at her withdark half-moons under her eyes.Her hair was splayed behind her like a halo, and there was a blanket pulled up to her chest.
“Were you about to sleep?” Isla asked, blinking.
“No, no,” Sofia waved her hand, her voice low and scratchy. “You’re good, Isla. What happened?”
“Oh, um,” Isla waved around to the ground that Sofia couldn’t see. “Scott Moir barfed everywhere.”
“Your dog?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Anyway – you mind if I clean while we talk? Otherwise it’ll dry all over the place and it’ll be gross and –”
“You’re good, Isla,” Sofia laughed, and Isla tried not to focus on how soft her name sounded in the other girls’ tired voice, like a gentle rush of air. Ai-luh.
“So, you’re not tired?” Isla asked, mopping up the last of the disgusting mess of fluids and bringing out the Lysol.
“My mind’s racing, actually.” Sofia whispered.
“Yeah, too much caffeine doesthat.”
“Not that, it’s like . . .I finished my exams for this year. And now it’s like I have two weeks of free time to do whatever I want, and then next year I’ll graduate, and just. . .”
“You worried about the future?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m just. . . are you ambitious?”
“Are you really talking about ambition to a person cleaning up her dog’s vomit? Rude.” Isla paused, listing her head to consider the question. “I think so, yes. I want to be an author one day. Maybe work with the UN, too, as an environmental activist.” Surprisingly, Isla realized, she didn’t mind telling Sofia about her ambition. Shewas the last person to judge.
Sofia smiled softly. “Sounds lovely.”
“Why’d you ask?”
“Well.” A sigh.“The reason I’m getting my degree is because I want to change the way we see transportation, you know? Could you imagine changing the entire field?Innovating solar-energy run cars, or heck, even cars that generate their own energy? I want to contribute to that future, you know?”
Isla cleaned up the last of mess, the sting of Lysol shoving itself up her nose. “Big dreams.”
“Maybe too big.”
“What?”
“I’m just . . . a random girl. Who am I to say that I can make a huge impact in the world? They say dream big, but the bigger your dreams the steeper your climb. And it seems like I’m no closer to my dreams than I was four years ago.”
Isla asked her friend to wait, washed her hands, and carried her phone to her bedroom. Then she stumbled into bed, holding the camera to the side. “What’s your full name?”
“Sofia Alessandra Martinez.”
Isla smiled, before saying, “Well, Sofia Alessandra Martinez – ”
“Impressive!”
“ – don’t you ever stop dreaming. And hey – you are considerably closer to your dream than you were even a few days ago.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve achieved so many things.”
“Luck.”
“No, grit. Your choices and your willingness to seize opportunities. Your hard work, too. That’s what got you so far.”
“I guess.” Sofia looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t like the thought of not. . . doing something greater in the future. Not having a big impact down the line. I always wanted to do something more, you know? Start revolutions and shit.”
“Then start revolutions. Paradigm shifts.Shake the entire world.”
“That’s the dream.” Sofia laughed, her voice quiet and barely above a whisper.
“We’re young, brimming with hopes and dreams. We’re the future. Don’t give up before you’ve started.”
Sof shifted in bed till she was on her side, using her textbook as a pillow. “Tell me about your family.”
“Oh?”
“I miss mine. Tell me about yours.”
So she did. Isla told her about her sister and about how often Fiona practiced her cello and how much Isla loved listening to it. She talked about her friends, how they were like sunshine and silver, always making her laugh. She talked about her father, even, how the two of them reveled in celebrating Christmas in their own Scottish traditions, and how much she missed him.
Sofia took off her glasses and told her about her own family – her parents and her cousins, all loud and teasing and bustling with energy. How they all went to their catholic church on Christmas and her parents would cook all day to feed over 15 people.
As she spoke, her voice dwindled and quietened, till the two of them were a mess of whispers and hushed laughter, both of them tired. They’d both faded into silence, just breathing, when Isla checked the time. 12.
“Sofia?” she whispered. But when she looked back on her phone, Sofia had already closed her eyes. Her face was soft, her long, sooty eyelashes casting shadows over her lovely cheekbones.
She’d fallen asleep.
Isla didn’t understand why she did what she did next. She just quietly plugged her phone to the charger and drew up her blanket, the camera still facing her and the call still running. In moments, she, too, fell asleep.
Isla waited at the register and ran a hand down her white lace dress, hoping to spot Sofia, who was – somewhat predictably – running late. She’d even worn makeup today, which she rarely did.
She was nervous, Isla concluded firmly, because she was going to speak in front of a lot of important people. No other reason.
So when she did see Sofia enter through the doors, wearing that olive green miracle and giving her that megawatt smile, she ignored the beat her heart skipped. Instead, she beamed back.
The two of them made their way to the auditorium, splitting up to socialize with as many people as they could. Isla shook hands and smiled and laughed with CEO’s, presidents, and other students like her. But the entire time, she knew exactly where Sofia was – she couldn’t help from glancing at her.
The evening passed in a haze. The two of them sat side by side and watched the podium. Elizabeth May spoke first, congratulatingso many young people for the initiatives they were taking. Other sponsors came, too, beaming and waving, and looking forward to listening to what everyone had to say.
There were, in total, 20 youths at the Gala and over a hundred politicians, researchers and professionals watching. As the event went on, they all spoke about different things, from taxes to arts funding to LGBTQ+ movements. Isla was sixth, and she delivered the speech with every bit of emotion she felt. She offered each word with her heart on her sleeves, felt the crowd of young diplomats and change-makers stir and begin to nod to her words.
And when she stepped back, the sound was like thunder. Sofia was the first to stand from her chair, but others followed soon enough, until Isla was pretty sure her face was the color of her hair.
Sofia was the last one to speak, and she, too, swept the crowd away, driving in each beautiful word of her speech, exuding confidence and elegance and genius. And passion, too. You could see it when she smiled, the way her eyes lit up as she looked around the crowd. You could see it in her steady hands and her steadier voice.
The second she delivered her last word, the crowd surged up once again, cheering her on. Isla couldn’t help her proud smile.
The reception was when the work began – dozens of people approached Sofia, introducing themselves and asking about her and who she worked with. They were interested, they said. Numbers were exchanged, and Sofia looked alive, proud and happy, all tanned skin and cascading curls. Isla tried not to stare.
She laughed. There was this buoyant feeling in her chest, this fierce joy that she was being heard, speaking for a cause she genuinely believed in. Tonight was important – she was talking to important people, taking action. Using her voice to make a change for the better, bit by bit.
It made her see, in gasps and glimpses, what the world could be.
And when Sofia’s pitch won, Isla was the first to cheer, proud and beaming, so high she felt like she could fly. They’d won.
After another hour of talking and pleasantries, the crowd finally began to thin out. Isla looked up from her glass of champagne to find Sofia excuse herself and leave out the back door, a princess in green. A moment later, she drained her glass, marveling at the spirited zing in her throat, and followed.
Isla found her in one of the hallways, staring at a large painting of Hermione from The Winter’s Tale. Her expression was contemplative as she leaned back against the opposite wall, her eyes searching the painting as though it held the secrets of the universe.
“Hey,” Isla said, leaning against the wall beside Sofia. “You okay?”
Sofia nodded, looking up at her. “Are you?”
“Mhm.” Isla grinned. “You won, Sof. Change-making, here we come.”
Sofia laughed. “Cheers to a better world.” Then she narrowed her eyes, amused. “Are you drunk, Isla?”
“A little tipsy, yeah.” She admitted. “I didn’t really like wines, but champagne is actually nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey.” She peeled herself away from the wall and stood in front of Isla, offering her a hand. “We should get you home.”
Isla took that beautiful hand extended towards her; her own fingers were cold against Sofia’s warm ones. She pushed herself off the wall, but the painting before her seemed to tilt, and –
“Whoa,” Sofia laughed and caught her, gently easing her back against the wall. “Are you. . .”
But her words faded.
They were so close. Isla could feel her breath, could feel Sofia’s hand in hers, her other hand on Isla’s shoulder. Isla wanted to trace the curve of her lips, the line of her jaw, the swooping arcs of her eyelashes. The same eyelashes through which Sofia was looking up at her.
And then Sofia took Isla’s face in her hands, went on the tips of her toes, and kissed her.
Oh.
And maybe it was the champagne, but ‘explosion’ was a nice way of describing the feeling in Isla’s chest. Sofia kissed her confidently, with a rough devotion that left her breathless, cupping her jaws in both her hands as though it were a precious flower, and all Isla could think was yes, yes, yes.
Her arms came around Sofia’s waist, pulling her closer till they were heart by heart, Sofia’s knees pressing into hers, the two of them folded in one perfect envelop of space.
And it was everything. It felt perfect, blissful and wonderful. It wasright.
Sofia pulled away, her eyes wide and dark, her lips parted.
With herculean strength, Isla managed: “Yes.”
Sofia ducked her head and gave her an uncertain smile, and Isla looked down at her in helpless awe, reaching up to run her hand through those black waves she’d wanted to touch so badly for the last month. All she could think was yes. Please.
“I think,” Isla whispered against her lips, “we were on our way out?”
Sofia threw her head back and laughed, the sound low and sweet, better than any standing ovation. Isla smiled back and leaned forward till their foreheads touched, her smile against Sofia’s, both of them brimming with that momentary euphoria that made you feel like you could do anything in the whole world if you just took one step forward.
And standing there in a beautiful dress, with a beautiful girl in her arms in a night of sparkling wine and chandeliers, Isla felt young and alive and free. She felt eternal.
