Tegan and the Gatorade – Henry Markowitz

April 2, 2026

Tegan’s backpack is filled to the brim with loose papers from the various classes he paid little attention to. On the first day of school, his mother bought him folders so he could be organized and, don’t get me wrong, they were in there too, there just wasn’t anything in them. Now he’s reached the end of junior year and his academic career, like his backpack, is nothing short of a mess. In Tegan’s defense, depression came and got him like a whirlwind, swooping him into a mindset so dark and twisted, he wouldn’t even do his homework. In the backpack’s side pocket, there is a bottle of cool blue Gatorade. A video that had come up on his Instagram feed got Tegan all in his head about his daily intake of electrolytes, and so he made use of three dollars at the campus vending machine. That was the funny thing, his mother couldn’t get through to him, neither could his teachers or his psychiatrist, but Tegan will believe anything he sees on Instagram, no matter how absurd or unreliable.
        Tegan is at lunch with his so-called “friends.” Did I mention that he’s very depressed? Well, that depression makes him overwhelmingly bitter; he even secretly harbors a hatred for his school chums. The only person he doesn’t seem to loathe spending time with is his girlfriend of five months. That’s a long time for a high school relationship.
        Alia slams her hands onto the lunch table. “Okay guys, how do we feel about gerrymandering?” she says, holding out that final “ing” like she’s talking about the hottest new topic. Tegan’s friends often had strange conversations, viewing politics as merely an extension of high school drama.
        Gabrielle smiles. “I’m okay with it.”
        “Yeah, seems cool,” Titus says, nodding.
        Tegan abstains from the conversation. Needing to quench his thirst, he pulls the Gatorade from the pouch on his backpack. Tegan unscrews the cap and raises the bottle to his lips.
        Gabrielle smiles again, but out of confusion, rather than joy. “What is that?”
        Tegan scoffs. “What?”
        “Yeah,” Alia chimes in. “What is that?”
        Tegan narrows his eyes; he’s not in the mood for games. “Uh … Gatorade?”
        Collectively, Tegan’s three friends yell, “what?”
        “Gatorade?” Tegan repeats.
        Titus’ breathing becomes heavy. He practically huffs and puffs, rage bubbling inside of him like Gatorade that’s been left out in the sun. “Get him!” he wails.
        Now, imagine action music starts playing. Tegan stands up and takes a few steps back, practically stumbling over himself as he does. “Woah, woah,” he says, holding his arms out.
        Alia, Gabrielle, and Titus follow him, with narrowed eyes and wide stances. They charge at their prey, shoving Tegan around and smacking him. Of course, none of this is very physically painful, but it is painfully confusing.
        In the struggle, Tegan drops his Gatorade, which rolls a few feet away. As Titus pulls Tegan into a tight headlock, Gabrielle leans down, picks up the bottle, and chucks it into the distance.
        Struggling to break free, Tegan yells, “What the hell!?”
        When he finally gets away, Tegan runs to the vending machine from which he’d acquired the Gatorade. He’s perplexed as he looks through glass at the slots that once held a certain sports drink. Now, there are only Cokes, lots and lots of Cokes.
        After school, Tegan tries to forget about this absurd encounter and just be in the moment when he visits his girlfriend.
        Tegan knocks on the door, and it’s answered nearly immediately.
        “Hello, my beautiful girlfriend.”
        Tegan’s girlfriend, a gorgeous creature of blond hair and a pronounced nose that she wants to get plastic surgery for, grins like she’s just been gifted the world at the sight of her boyfriend, as he is her everything. Being homeschooled her whole life, she doesn’t have much social interaction, so her life is pretty much consumed by Tegan, and she tries her best to consume his. Tegan really does appreciate the attention and positive reinforcement, although he’s a little scared that if he breaks up with her, she’ll slash his tires. “Hello, my handsome Tegan.”
        After five minutes of passionate sex, Tegan and his girlfriend cuddle in her bed.
        “How was your day?” Tegan’s girlfriend asks.
        Tegan, not wanting to worry his girlfriend by describing the savage attack he endured at lunch, just says, “eh, same old, same old. Hey, I got a question to ask you.”
        Tegan’s girlfriend’s eyes widen. “Yes, my love?”
        Tegan smiles, realizing what he’s about to ask is a bit silly. “You … you know what Gatorade is, right?”
        Tegan’s girlfriend purses her lips. “Um … Gatorade? No, what’s that?”
        “You know,” Tegan laughs to himself, confused. “Gatorade.”
        “Is that like … a hospital for large reptiles?”
        Again, Tegan tries to put this mystery out of his mind. The next day, as he walks from the parking lot to school, he looks down and notices something peeking out from under a car, something orange. Tegan bends over and picks up this mystery object. It’s a bottle cap, and attached to this bottle cap is a bottle. There’s a logo on it, a big “G” with a lightning bolt going through it. Tegan stares into the Gatorade, almost seeing his own reflection. He stuffs it into his backpack and goes on with his day.
        During lunch, Alia, Gabrielle, and Titus sit at a table together, engaged in riveting conversation.
        “I was at a gas station,” Titus says. “What’s y’all’s favorite snack at a gas station.”
        Alia raises a hand. “I’m a Three Musketeers girl.”
        Gabrielle nods. “Yeah, that’s pretty good. Like, a Twix bar is usually my go to.”
        A pair of feet in a pair of Nikes walk toward the trio. The three look up at the face of a determined Tegan.
        Tegan raises the bottle of Gatorade high into the air. “You know what this is? This is Gatorade, a drink enjoyed by millions. What is you people’s problem?”
        Gabrielle yanks her head back. “Are you okay, Tegan?”
        “Yeah,” Alia adds. “You’re acting really crazy Tegan.”
        Titus slams his fist on the table. “Are you a crazy person, Tegan? Are you mentally ill?”
        Gabrielle looks between her friends with genuine concern. “Guys, he could be dangerous.”
        Tegan laughs. “I’m not nuts. You guys are nuts. You attacked me over Gatorade yesterday!”
        “Uh …” Alia raises an eyebrow. “That … never happened.”
        “What?” Tegan asks.
        “Yeah,” says Gabrielle. “That never happened.”
        Tegan stammers. “But–”
        In unison, Alia, Gabrielle, and Titus chant, “Never happened! Never happened!”
        Tegan drives home from school early that day, feeling defeated. Standing on his front porch, Paula watches as he gets out of the car, tapping her index finger against her lips.
        Tegan is bewildered at the sight of this short, round girl with glasses that make her eyes look huge, standing before him.
        “Uh, can I help you?”
        Paula nods. “Are you Tegan Manuel-Miranda?”
        “Yeah, why?”
        “I can help you prove that Gatorade exists and you’re not crazy.”
        Tegan grins, a bit confused yet hopeful. “Okay?”
        “But, you have to do exactly as I say.”
        “Okay.”
        “First, I need to do your makeup,” Paula says.
        Tegan narrows his eyes. “Why?”
        He would quickly learn not to ask questions, but to follow instructions. They go inside and Tegan waits patiently as Paula does him up.
        “You done yet?” Tegan asks.
        Paula grins. “Almost, be patient.”
        After applying more mascara, she grabs a mirror and holds it up to Tegan’s face. “All done, beautiful. What do you think?”
        Tegan stares at the mess that is his face. Blush applied to his chin, mascara smudged on his cheek, even green something-or-other caked onto his nose. Tegan knows he looks like a clown, but he’s on a mission, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes. “Wait, how is this supposed to help me?”
        “Just trust me,” Paula says in her sassy tone of voice.
        The two drive to Tegan’s girlfriend’s house. Tegan and Paula wait at her front door, building up the courage to open a conversation that may just destroy the fabric of reality. Tegan holds up the Gatorade; he notices it’s now half-full, which is funny because he hadn’t had any. Oh well, he doesn’t think too much of it.
        “Are you ready to face her?” Paula asks.
        Tegan pauses. Then, he nods. “Yeah.”
        They knock, and Tegan’s girlfriend answers the door nearly immediately. She’s always on high alert for her beloved boyfriend.
        “Tegan?” she says, horrified. “What happened to your face?”
        Tegan stammers, not having prepared any statement. “I uh …” He points behind him. “The uh … the girl.”
        Tegan’s girlfriend looks around, aimlessly. “What girl?”
        Awkwardly, Tegan laughs. He looks behind him, and watches as Paula waves and slowly fades from existence. Tegan looks back at his girlfriend, terrified.
        “What’s going on with you, Tegan?”
        “The Gatorade!”
        “Here you go again about this Gatorade, what is this Gatorade?”
        Tegan raises his right hand, displaying the forbidden fruit. “This.”
        His girlfriend runs her fingers through her hair with genuine concern. “That’s just an empty bottle, Tegan.”
        Tegan looks down, and sure enough, all the liquid that once inhabited that plastic container is gone, never to be seen again, and Tegan doesn’t know where it went. He gives up at this moment, dropping the bottle onto the ground, bowing his head, and sighing. “Girlfriend, there’s something … wrong with me.”
        Tegan’s girlfriend shakes her head. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Tegan, you’re perfect!”
        “No,” Tegan says. “Something’s wrong. I’m not myself. I’m not normal. I don’t know how to communicate with people. Everybody thinks I’m crazy or dangerous and I don’t know how to prove them wrong. They said once I started taking the medication everything would go back to normal but … I can’t make it stop. I just want to be better for you.” Tearing up, he balls his hands up into fists and raises them into the air. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! Help me, girlfriend! I don’t get it, I don’t—” Tegan sighs and shakes his head.
        Tegan’s girlfriend nods. “Well, If you’re gonna be crazy,” she tells him, “take advantage of it.”
        Tegan looks up. “What?”
        “Believe whatever you want to believe, Tegan. If you can’t face reality, make your own.”
        “Make my own?” Tegan asks.
        Tearing up, his girlfriend lets out a sound, less a gasp and more a “yeah.” She says, “make your own, Tegan.”
        Tegan looks down again. “I’m uh … I’m sorry about how this affects you.”
        “It’s hard, you know, loving someone … who’s crazy.”
        “I’m sure it is,” Tegan replies.
        There’s a pause as the two just look at each other. They stare into each other’s eyes, not knowing what to feel. I don’t know if this was really the look of love, but if it was, it was also the look of fear. Tegan’s girlfriend interprets this as the first look of true understanding, Tegan interprets it as a final look, for he feels he’ll never be understood.
        Tegan sighs. “Goodbye, girlfriend.” He turns around and bolts.
        “Wait, Tegan! Where are you going!?”
        By then, his scrawny little legs have gotten him far away, running in the wind with a newfound freedom.
        After washing his face, Tegan decides he’ll never wear makeup again. In fact, he’ll never dress up for anybody. And so, tired of a reality that refuses to accept him, Tegan takes his girlfriend’s advice and creates his own. Pointing at the new imagery he creates, the bland existence of cars, stained streets, and ugly souls are all cast away. Tegan conjures lagoons, rainbows, and bountiful feasts. Realizing he needs people to share this beauty with, he creates the image of new friends, ones who will respect and appreciate him. He creates light and love, and of course, lots and lots of Gatorade. It’s not that he particularly likes Gatorade, but now there’s nobody to stop him. The final image Tegan creates is that of himself and his girlfriend, together, exactly as they really are. Tegan is too consumed by guilt to face his girlfriend in real life, but he can be with her here.
She looks at him, and he looks at her, and Tegan takes her hand. They just stand there for a while, looking out onto the world without any additional illusions to keep them company. This one, this illusion, it’s enough.