In Deep (12 page)

Now the twinkle lights are on, but it's still not dark out. Nearly every floatie and toy in the Hawkins's collection is in the pool, and I bump into one from time to time, lying across one of my own, eyes shut, half-dozing. There is laughter. A bag of marshmallows is being passed around, though Grier can't get the fire pit going, and no one feels like helping her. Someone jumps into the pool with a loud splash. The water ripples around us. I open my eyes as Linus pulls himself up onto the end of my floatie, a joint between his lips. His wet fingers pass it to me. I've had some of that lemonade and vodka stuff Grier mixes in big pitchers for gatherings like this, but I didn't mean to drink any. I was going to have water. But then a Solo cup was in my hand and I was twirling in the pool on a giant plastic doughnut and, well—

Linus laughs, his eyes happy slits. I take a drag and then see my hand passing the joint back to him. This will be a funny thing for us all to talk about at practice tomorrow. It was actually a nice idea. It feels good to just lie here, floating, surrounded by hazy laughter. I picture Charlie and his sisters, asprawl in front of the TV. It might be fun if he were here too.

I fan my hands in the water, pushing myself closer to the
edge of the pool, the Grecian tile spinning dolphins at us in a turquoise cascade of jumping delight. Megan kicks past me, her bottom breaking the surface and bobbing like a plastic toy someone could shoot and win. There's another splash. The Jacuzzi bubbles somewhere to the right. There is a person or two in there. Drifty faces. Grier is laughing, hard, in the shallow end. The light is perfect. Someone leaps off the diving board. Someone else hollers, “Sharks and Minnows!” and we divide into teams, moving toward separate ends of the pool. Somewhere in the back of my blurry brain, I think maybe, if it could always be like this, I might not mind people so much.

I slide off the floatie and shove it out of the pool. Before long, I'm in the dark-blue deep end, clinging to the gritty edge, more than a little buzzed now, but trying to look ready to launch at our attackers. I hear myself call words of encouragement, see Shyrah's proud shining head four feet to my right. I know he can make the entire length of this pool in one breath. I think he is a good teammate. I should be nicer to him. Someone screams, “Go!” and there is a bunch of splashing. I'm not sure where the No Man's Land marker is. There are bodies swimming past me, and I dive, trying to grab. They may be my own teammates. I don't care. I'm laughing underwater. This is so nice. Hands are flailing, faces wide and open above the water. The light continues to dim, almost in a steady stream, like you can see it disappearing. The air above the pool is so warm. More laughing.
A shriek. Then Gavin swims by me, flinging water off his forehead, not even looking at me. I go under again, aswirl in the bubbles he makes, waiting for him to pass by me, but without warning, he's turned around and his warm hand is on my knee, then above my knee, sliding into the curve of my thigh. Up, higher, gripping me firm. Unapologetic. Not hesitating. Warm and knowing and utterly there.

I kick—once, twice, forcing us apart. He breaks the surface at the same time I do. His teeth are straight. His hair is dark and sleek. His cheekbones hang droplets off their sharp edges like Christmas tree ornaments. My crotch is burning where his hand kneaded it. He's just a few feet away, treading water, face happy though he's not looking at me again. It's like it didn't happen. But I'm on fire. My legs kick themselves in circles in the water, over and over, not sure what to do. I reach for the edge again, clinging, letting my body drift down, down. Hanging there, useless.

•  •  •

It doesn't take long for the game to lose its fizzle. A bunch of us head into the Jacuzzi. Someone passes water bottles around, a universal signal that things are winding down. It's still not dark yet, but it's about to be, and we all feel it. Partying for us is a little like sprinting—a big, huge burst of energy and then, ugh. A few people go inside to change. Even the music quiets. I look around the yard.

“Where's Grier?”

“Probably getting bent in half by Gavin upstairs,” Troy says, laughing. It shocks me, something so vulgar coming out of a guy who looks so gentle. It's even weirder when Linus gives him a high five, but I know they're both right. I feel mad again all over. Grier said it wouldn't be fun without me here, but what she meant was no one would come if I didn't. And then she couldn't hook back up with Gavin.

“What time is it?” someone wants to know, changing the subject.

Kelly stands up then and asks does anyone need a ride. Without thinking, I raise my hand. Kelly doesn't drink, but she doesn't judge, either, and she always insists on driving people home if they need it, no matter where they live. Since she goes to my school, we live pretty close, so I don't feel bad about it. I need to get out of here anyway.

“Get some rest,” she tells me when she drops me off, serious. “You look like you could use it.”

I thought I was doing a good job of faking it in the car, but I guess not. As I say bye and go into the house, part of me wants to prove her wrong, stay up awhile, but that would mean joining Mom and Louis for their dessert, and I really don't think I can fake it with them tonight. Not when my eyes are rimmed red from weed and exhaustion and I still feel a burning handprint between my legs.

So after the obligatory “How was your day?” and “Fine” and “Thanks for letting me go to Grier's,” I grumble something about getting some reading done and take a plate of dinner up to my room. They both look concerned, mixed maybe with some disapproval, but they can't argue with me much if what I'm doing is homework—the main thing they're always harping on me about. Of course what I really do is eat and watch a few videos on YouTube. Around nine I get a text from Grier:
making up iz awesum!!!
There's a photo attached, but I don't need to look at it. A glance at my notifications tells me she's already tagged me in a bunch of pictures from this afternoon too. So. Happy-go-lucky Grier again. Friendy friend friend blah blah blah, all kissy and made up with Gavin, fuck lord of the universe. I put my laptop onto the floor and curl under the covers.

Kelly's right. I do need some rest. Tomorrow—I need to be back on my game.

NO DREAMS, ONLY SLEEP. IN
the morning I'm back to normal.

Wake.

Pee.

Dress.

Breakfast, and the game with Louis in the car.

School.

School.

Charlie, lunch, his pals, whatever. Charlie asks me how the paper's coming, and I even remember one or two things from what I read yesterday.

More school.

Then Kate and some light teasing about this weekend. Enough to keep her glowing, anyway. Woodham's stupid lecture
on works cited. We'll be in the library again tomorrow, getting shown some database by the librarian.

Then, finally, practice.

At the pool, everyone who was at Grier's is giggling and sly-eyed, mooning over what fun we all had in our little social club yesterday. Which means instead of tuning out with earbuds, priming myself for what I know needs to be a hard workout, I have to stand there and chitchat, too, because otherwise Grier will think something is up. Which, fine—I know how to play this. I hold my face in a way that suggests I'm listening, though I don't say anything myself. I move my face in a smile when it's expected. I can't look at Gavin, because as soon as I hear his voice, all I can think about is him grabbing me in the pool yesterday. I know it's important not to acknowledge that gesture even in the slightest, so I hold still. I keep everything in me even. It's hard to not see him though, since Grier's standing right next to him, bumping him with her hip from time to time, but even more important than being unfazed by yesterday is making regular friendly eye contact and laughing with her.

When Van comes down, I realize my jaw's clenched so tight, my teeth hurt. I take a breath, try to relax.

I am normal, aloof. I am what I always am.

I get in the water. I swim.

I am fast, faster, fastest.

I get it done.

•  •  •

In the car on the way home, I can feel the tightness in me finally ebbing a little when a text
brrrrring
s in. Inexplicably, a burst of anger crawls up my neck and behind my eyes. Gavin needs to just fuck off, leave me alone, and go waste his time on Grier since he loves screwing her so much. But I know if I actually said all that, he'd think I cared what he does. Besides, it is amusing how much my ignoring bothers him. Couldn't even stand it one whole day. Someone needs to tell him to quit being so pathetic.

But the message isn't from him. It's from Charlie.

polo, ok if we don't hang today?

I pause, trying to picture what I'll do instead in the time between now and dinner. I see myself riding bikes with my dad. Watching him repair the lawn mower for the sixtieth time because we couldn't afford a new one. Him teaching me how to play poker so that I could sit by him and not be bored when the fire station guys came over for hoagies and beer.

ok.
I type back.

I wait. Louis makes some comment about my popularity these days as we get out of the car. He sounds impressed, glad for me, but I barely register. What's wrong with Charlie that he doesn't want to hang out, especially since we didn't yesterday?
After how chummy I've forced myself to be with his pals, he can't think there's anything wrong with me. Besides, I need him. I need him to clean my palate from Gavin, so to speak.

you ok?
I text, after he says nothing.

yeah it's no big deal. ethan's just over.

I picture them watching TV or playing video games, with Cinnamon and Chloe laughing at their jokes. Being goofy. Being friends.

tell him hi. have fun.

I am fine about it, I am. Charlie's just doing—whatever it was he did before we started hanging out. He needs to see his friends. It's totally normal. It's his routine.

make it up friday?
he finally says.

sure,
I agree, not understanding any of this.

With little else to do, I try reading more of the books Kate found for me on John Wilkes Booth, but it's hard to focus on anything. My eyes keep blurring and trying to close. I read several pages over and over. Downstairs, at dinner, which I have no way of escaping, I try to recite some back to Mom and Louis. I know
from experience that the weight of silence with both of them really is worse than the effort of talking. But I can't keep all the dates and names straight. I switch to trying to explain this other whole book that focuses on the significance of the Civil War in terms of how it shaped current politics, with a lot of speculation about where we'd be if Lincoln hadn't been killed and—I don't really know what I'm talking about.

“Sounds really interesting.” Louis nods, scraping his plate clean. Trying to help me out a little.

“You know there are several battle sites around here,” Mom says cheerfully. “Maybe we could all go—”

“ 'Fraid all I'm going to have time for is practice and this stupid reading until the semester's over,” I say, getting up and clearing their plates.

They nod and
mmm
, proud and understanding, which drives me crazier than usual for some reason tonight. To force myself to be calm, I stay and load the dishwasher, and even wipe the counters.

“Thanks, Mom,” I say, heading back to my room. Doing the dishes—pushing myself through something I don't want to do—has given me an idea, and it doesn't involve reading any more of this boring crap.

kate its b.
I text. I'm not sure if Kate really pays attention to her phone or if she's used to anyone texting her, but it's worth a shot.

To my surprise, she answers pretty quick:
brynn?

yeah. i can't do this
, I tell her.

?????
she asks.

these books r killing me.

go slow. take notes. draw pictures if you need to.

I roll my eyes.
annowhatevrs due friday, right???
I ask her.

just the 1st 3.

i can't read all this by then
, I insist.

just summarize.

I growl and want to throw the phone.

you've read all these tho, right?

This time she takes a little longer to answer:
not the swanson.

“Come on, Kate. Get with me here,” I mutter out loud to the empty room.

so you cd help, right? explain in english?

it's really not that hard
, she says.

Okay, fine then. Make me bring out the big guns.

how r you feeling abt fri?
I ask.

my annos are done.

no i mean connor.

Again, another break before she answers. And when she does, she calls me direct.

“Do you think I'm stupid?” she says as soon as I answer.

“Of course I don't think you're stupid. I'm the one who's stupid here. And I'm asking you to help me.”

“I know what you're trying to do.”

In spite of myself, I'm impressed she's calling me on it.

“What am I trying to do? All I'm trying to do is make a fair exchange. You know stuff that I don't know. I know stuff that you don't. We trade, and it's not that big a deal, right? You like this guy, don't you?”

She humphs. “So far, anyway.”

“And he likes you. You want to keep it that way, right?”

“Are you trying to say that he won't like me if I don't help you?”

“No, God. I'm your friend, Kate. Jeez. I'm just saying I could tell you a few things that would make sure and keep him interested.”