Surviving High School (14 page)

Nick was right on the other side of the locker-room doors, Emily realized. She could get answers now.

But by the time she walked back out, Nick was gone. The pool sat empty, its water still as ice.

At lunch the next day, as Emily took her usual spot at the center table, Kimi gestured to the corner of the cafeteria. There, sitting by herself, wearing a thick pair of headphones and drinking a protein shake in place of her usual junk food, was Dominique. She wore no makeup, was dressed in a tracksuit, and looked like she hadn’t brushed her hair since last week’s swim meet.

“Where’s her sidekick?” asked Kimi before noticing Lindsay at the next table over, talking with Spencer. “And what’s she doing over in our old spot? Did she take last week’s loss as a sign that she permanently belongs in Loserville?”

“Maybe I should go talk to her,” said Emily. “I feel bad.”

“Are you insane?” asked Kimi. “We finally get to enjoy a lunch in peace without her making fun of us every five seconds, and you want to go make nice?”

“I’m just going to say hi.”

She chose not to mention another agenda: finding out
where Cameron was eating lunch today. She’d been wanting to track him down since Ben’s party, but the task had proved difficult, and Emily was beginning to suspect that he was avoiding her on purpose.

Emily walked over to Dominique’s table only to find herself completely ignored. Dominique listened to her headphones, sipped from her shake, and stared into space. She didn’t notice Emily until she waved a hand in front of Dominique’s face.

“What do you want, Kessler?” she asked.

“I was just, uh, worried that you—”

Dominique paused her iPod, took off her headphones, and sneered. “Good,” she said. “You should be worried.”

“I should?”

“You really taught me something,” said Dominique. “I used to make fun of you for being a Swimbot. Now I see that you just wanted to win at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing everything else. I respect that.”

“Thanks?” said Emily. What was Dominique getting at?

“So I just want you to know that I’m coming at you full-on now,” said Dominique. “I started a new eating plan, and I’m adding another hour of practice to my normal routine. I’m done with parties, drinking, staying out late, all of it. There’s no point in doing that stuff anyway. I won’t be happy until I destroy you at Junior Nationals.”

“I—” Emily had no idea how to respond.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of here,” said Dominique. “I’ve got the full lunch hour scheduled
to listen to this podcast about positive visualization, and you’re kind of eating into my time.”

Dominique put her headphones back on and resumed staring into space as Emily stood there, wordless. She kicked herself for not asking about Cameron earlier—there was no way she was going to do it now. Finally, she turned and rejoined Kimi at the center table.

“Well,” asked Kimi. “What did she say?”

“She’s becoming…” Emily trailed off. “She’s becoming
me
.”

In study hall that day, as Emily struggled through her Statistics homework, Ben sat down at the desk next to her and leaned over to whisper, “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be, you know, in class?”

“I told Mr. Carr I had appendicitis. Again. He really is a terrible health teacher.”

“I thought you were supposed to be working on your grades,” said Emily with a frown. Had he just told her that in the heat of the moment? What if he hadn’t changed at all? Her mom had warned her about guys like Ben, guys who promised girls the world at night and then took it all back the next morning.

“I am. I really am,” he said. “I already turned in the last month and a half’s worth of calculus problem sets, and I just got 105 percent on my AP Physics test. But is everything still
okay with you? Last week at the pool you acted like I was a creepy stranger or something.”

Emily was about to reply when Mrs. Watanabe walked by, checking to make sure everyone was still hard at work. She grabbed an iPhone away from Howard Wu, who was in the process of burning down his Sims’ house, and stuck it in her pocket. Emily and Ben waited in silence until she’d returned to her desk before resuming their conversation.

“I just want to keep things between us—private. At least for now.”

“You’re embarrassed of me?”

“What? No, of course not.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I mean, we’ve only been on one date,” he said. “I think it’s a little early for us to start fighting.”

“No, I’m not embarrassed about you—us—whatever,” said Emily.

“Good,” he said. “Because I already told Spencer about our late-night rendezvous, and he’s not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

Emily cringed. What if Spencer had blabbed to Lindsay? Or even worse, Dominique?

“The thing is, I may have forgotten to mention that my dad is kind of a controlling psycho who’ll ground me for life if he finds out I’m secretly dating you.”

“So we’re ‘dating’ now?” asked Ben.

“Are you kidding me?” asked Emily. “Did you just hear a word I said?”

“Emily, you worry too much,” said Ben. “Not getting caught is my specialty. I’ve sneaked you out after bedtime once. There’s no reason to think I can’t do it again. And again. And again.”

“This is going to end badly,” said Emily.

“Is that a reason not to try?”

She looked into his brown eyes and suddenly lost her ability to say no. She’d have to work on that.

“I guess I wouldn’t be
upset
if you happened to show up at ten thirty tonight,” she said.

“Sounds good. I’ll send you a text when I get to your place. Then you can just hop out the window and”—footsteps approached—“yes, that
is
how you get the derivative of that equation! Thanks for the help.”

Emily looked over her shoulder to see Mrs. Watanabe lurking behind her.

“Kale, out,” she said. “Kessler, save the romance for your own time. I’d hate to tell your father that you’re sitting out a meet to head to detention, but I’ll risk it if I have to.”

“See you tonight,” mouthed Ben silently as he backed out of the room, and Emily couldn’t help but smile. He was right. Even if it was doomed to fail, even if it was only a matter of time, seeing him was worth it. She had to try.

Over the course of the next week, Emily and Ben developed a routine. At ten thirty, she’d say good night to her parents, turn off her light, and lock her door. By ten thirty-five, he’d text her to say he’d arrived, and by ten forty, she’d be walking down the block, bundled up in a huge coat to keep out the cold November air, and there at the corner would be Ben, waiting in his car.

As Emily approached, Ben would leave his engine running and jump out to give her a big hug. He’d wrap his arms around her fluffy coat and squeeze her so tight that she’d let out a joyful squeak.

Ben took her to a new place every night: a bowling alley where everything was illuminated by black lights overhead so that whites and colors shone with an eerie luminescence; a
pet store downtown where a horde of puppies slept peacefully in the front window; a hill overlooking the city that provided a perfect view of the local amusement park’s weekly fireworks display.

They’d talk for hours about everything and nothing, and sometimes, staring at the city lights, they’d just sit together in silence as Emily wondered if they were thinking the same thoughts. Instead of discovering some unpleasant facts about him, Emily only liked him more and more with each date, until she felt her crush deepening into something more like love, though, of course, they were still a long way from saying that word out loud.

And every night, he’d get her home at midnight or two
AM
or later. He’d hug her good-bye, and she’d crawl into bed as her muscles ached and her mind drifted.

As the days passed, her lack of sleep started catching up to her, and Emily found her eyelids growing heavy in class. There just weren’t enough hours in the day for school, swimming, and Ben, but which of the three was she supposed to give up?

She was asking herself just that question, shuffling down the hall one day after school, when she came around a corner and ran directly into Cameron Clark.

“Oh,” he said. It was the first time she’d seen him look truly uncomfortable. “Hey.”

“Cameron,” she said. And then she drew a blank. What exactly
was
she supposed to say to her sister’s ex?

“Listen, about the party,” he said. “I shouldn’t have mentioned your sister.”

“No,” she said. “It’s okay. Samantha told me—”

“Samantha told you what?” he asked.

“That you and Sara, you know, dated.”

Cameron snorted.

“I wish you were right,” he said bitterly. “Sara and I—we trained together every day. Nobody pushed me like she did, and I think she would have said the same of me. She was one of—maybe
the
only girl at school I truly respected. Between sets, I used to tell her about all the girls I hooked up with. She’d just roll her eyes and give me a hard time.” Cameron smiled slightly.

“I don’t understand,” said Emily.

“Sara… was amazing. A champion, a competitor. But, you know. She wasn’t exactly popular. No one really thought she was hot. Except—I guess I did. I just didn’t know it at the time, how much she meant to me.”

His voice was shaking. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I have these dreams where I go back—and instead of telling her about the other girls I dated, I ask her out instead. Maybe—maybe then things would have turned out differently—”

“But I heard she had a boyfriend.”

“I’ve heard that rumor,” said Cameron. “I told you before, though, Sara could definitely keep a secret. I told her everything. Yeah, everyone knows about the girls I’ve dated, but Sara actually knew about the ones who turned me down. She never told anyone. If she did have secrets of her own, she
guarded them pretty close.… And if she had a boyfriend, he was a lucky guy.”

Emily finished changing into her swimsuit before the next Thursday’s practice. She was unsteady on her feet, and she had to brace herself against a locker as she straightened her swim cap.

“What’s with the zombie impersonation?” asked Samantha from a few lockers over. “You do realize it’s not Halloween, right?”

Emily hadn’t seen Samantha alone since she’d gotten that ride home from Ben’s party weeks ago, and since then, she’d been so focused on dating Ben that she hadn’t really made an effort to track down Samantha. Now the older girl’s words echoed in Emily’s head.

“If your sister had time for a boyfriend, so do you.”

But if Samantha hadn’t been talking about Cameron, who could it be?

For a second, Emily paused. Maybe it was better if she didn’t know. She’d always loved her sister, looked up to her. Knowing the truth could change everything.

“I’m just tired,” Emily said.

“Well, get some sleep,” said Samantha. “Quals for Junior Nationals are a week away. I’m not sure if it’s your biggest priority anymore, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to lose to blondie.”

Emily took a deep breath. She couldn’t run away from the
truth. Even if what she found out about Sara wasn’t pleasant, she had to know.

“Yeah,” said Emily. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask.… You mentioned something about Sara—and a boyfriend?”

A shadow passed over Samantha’s face.

“Look, I’ve tried to be nice to you about the whole thing,” she said. “Out of respect, you know. She’s gone now. Who cares what happened?”

She stripped off her sweater and tossed it violently into her locker.

“I do,” said Emily.

Samantha started unlacing a big black combat boot. Her hands were tense and white against the laces.

“Nick and I—we were in love,” said Samantha. “At least I thought we were. Then she came along and it was like he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”

“Nick?” asked Emily. “Nick Brown?” She felt her pulse pounding through her body, and her breathing quickened. Was it really possible?

“I know how much it hurt him to lose her,” said Samantha. “But that doesn’t make it any easier for me.”

“I’ve—I’ve got to go,” said Emily. She walked out of the locker room and out to the pool, where the shouts of the other swimmers echoed from every wall. Nick Brown—the same Nick Brown who had killed Sara—had been her
boyfriend
?

She leaned against the wall, trying not to pass out from the one-two punch of sleep deprivation and sheer emotional exhaustion.

“Kessler!” shouted her dad as he came up from behind her. “What’s the holdup? Get into the pool!”

“Just a second.”

“What’s with the bags under your eyes?” he asked. “You having trouble sleeping? If you can’t get to sleep, you’re not training hard enough.”

How much more could she take? Maybe this was the moment when she would break, when the weight of the sky became too much for her shoulders, and it crushed her beneath its weight.

She looked her dad—her coach—in the eyes. No, not yet. She wouldn’t break. Not here, not now.

“I’m fine,” Emily said, gritting her teeth.

Nick Brown
, she thought, as if repeating the name inside her brain would force it to make sense.
Nick Brown. Nick Brown. Nick Brown.

Then she walked to the side of the pool and jumped in.

“Kessler!” shouted Mr. McBride the next day in class.

“Huh?” asked Emily. “What?” She’d just been dreaming about sleeping on a very nice, very fluffy cloud next to Ben. Oh, no. She’d gotten to the point where she was literally dreaming about sleeping.

“I’m sorry,” said Mr. McBride. “Did I wake you?”

“No. I was—concentrating.”

Mr. McBride massaged his forehead, his fingers brushing against his bushy eyebrows.

“Well then,” he said, “I’m sure you won’t mind telling us
how the Hittites had such a profound combat advantage over their contemporaries.”

“They, uh, developed bronze weapons?”

“Almost!” shouted Mr. McBride. “So very, very close! But in fact, the correct answer is that they were one of the first cultures to develop—wait for it—
iron
weapons, which cut through their enemies’ bronze swords like a hot knife through butter.” He put his hands on Emily’s desk and looked down at her. “Minus one. And see me after class.”