The Art of Not Breathing (17 page)

“I’m sorry I remind you of sad times,” I say, and it sounds more sarcastic than I mean it to. “Thanks for letting me come to the cave.”

“I’m glad you didn’t jump off the ledge. Don’t ever do that jump. Rex is an idiot.”

“Is that why you looked like you’d seen a ghost? Because you thought I was going to jump?”

“What?”

“When I was standing by the throne. You looked really frightened.”

Danny fiddles with a loose thread on his T-shirt. “Oh, aye. I thought you’d jump. Do me another favor: don’t ever go there alone. Promise?”

I nod. I have no intention of going there on my own—I doubt I’d even find it. I walk away feeling slightly uneasy. I’m still angry at Danny for sending Tay away, and his questions felt intrusive, but at the same time, he seems a bit sad and is making an effort to be nice to me. Without warning, my brain suddenly pictures the two of us kissing. I quickly shake the image of Danny away and think of Tay instead.

3

THE NEXT DAY, WE PAINT THE FRONT OF THE CLUBHOUSE AND
officially christen it the Black Fin. Mick has ordered a stencil, and when it’s fixed in place—a job that Mick and Danny insist is one that only they can do—I get the pleasure of painting the letters. Mick holds the ladder and keeps telling me what a great job I’m doing, even though Rex is yelling up telling me I’ve missed bits here and there. After, Mick lets me have half a shandy to celebrate, and it immediately makes me lightheaded. Without Tay around, I haven’t spent any time in the boathouse drinking. I still think of him every day and wonder whether he’s thinking of me, but every time I’m off in my own thoughts, Danny pulls me back. It’s like he senses what I’m thinking about and gives me a job to take my mind off it. It doesn’t work, though. I spend the day alternating between imagining myself diving with Tay and picturing kissing Danny. It must be my hormones.

“We’ve got a group of guys who want to go snorkeling,” Danny says as I’m finishing my drink. “Our first customers. Can you make sure all the equipment is ready?”

“Is the dive club officially open for business, then?”

“Against all odds, it would seem so,” he says. I wonder if he’s referring to Tay’s disappearing act.

He hands me a sheet of paper with a list of wetsuit and fin sizes written on it. I don’t want to do it—I want to sit here and think about Tay—but I can’t complain because Danny’s being so nice to me, with the new wetsuit and promising to take me on more dives.

“You can come if you want,” he says when I don’t move straightaway.

“I can’t,” I say feebly. “I’ve still got more exams that I should study for.”

“Oh. I forget that you still go to school,” he replies, and it makes me feel very small. I wonder if he does this on purpose or if he’s completely oblivious to how he makes me feel.

I scoff at myself then, because
I
don’t even know how he makes me feel. One minute excited and like I’m part of something, and the next like I’m something he accidentally trod in.

I go out into the back and make lots of noise as I move crates of equipment around trying to find the right sizes. I had no idea there was so much stuff here. It all looks and smells new. Mick joins me and helps me lift the heaviest crates.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” he says. “You know you’re like the daughter I never had.”

I instantly feel better, and he play-punches me on the arm.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I say.

“Thanks, Elsie. I only wish I’d done this sooner.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I wanted to make sure it was the right thing,” he replies.

“So how did you know it was the right thing?”

Mick laughs as he picks up the last crate. “You ask good questions. In the end, I realized I’d never know unless I tried it. If the answer doesn’t come to you, go and find it.” He winks at me, and I want to hug him.

“You can talk to me anytime, you know,” he says. “Tay’ll be back. Young love, it’s tough.”

“I don’t love him,” I say. “I don’t even like him.”

I want to ask Mick what happened with Danny’s mum, if he loved her, if he’s ever loved anyone. Something tells me he has a sad story.

“My advice to you, Elsie, is go
with your heart, not your head, because your head doesn’t know what it wants. It only thinks about the moral high ground. And if your heart isn’t happy, when you try to share it, you’ll make others unhappy too.”

“Wow, that’s deep,” I say.

He throws a wet, smelly towel in my face and then pulls me into a hug and growls in my hair.

4

I TRY NOT TO GIGGLE AS DANNY DEMONSTRATES A SQUAT.
We’re on a bit of the beach just down the harbor, heading away from Fortrose. The beach is narrow and hidden from the coastal road by a thick layer of trees. Even though no one can see us, it’s still embarrassing.

“I feel ridiculous,” I say midsquat.

“Are you not taking this seriously?” Danny pushes down on my shoulders, and my thighs feel like they’re about to shred.

The strengthening exercises are torturous. Danny has me doing lunges, squats, star jumps, running up and down the pebbles, lying in the water moving my legs up and down. At the end my legs are like jelly and I can’t even get up.

“We’re going for a dive,” Danny says, zipping up his wetsuit.

“Can’t,” I say. All I want to do is sleep.

“You can,” he says, softly.

He kneels by my head and moves my sweaty hair off my face. His touch sends weird impulses through me.

“The water will wake you up. Come on.”

Suddenly his face is close, his lips inches from mine. Does he know I’ve been thinking about him? Before he has a chance to move in, I sit up, afraid of what might be happening between us. He backs off.

After the dive, when we head back to rinse our suits, Danny touches my shoulder and says, “I think you’re really brave.”

I sidestep so his hand falls away.

“Can we go to the cave again tomorrow?” I ask, thrashing my wetsuit about in the rinsing water, trying not to look at him in case I accidentally grab him and kiss him.

“No,” Danny says quickly. His tone of voice makes me wonder if things are a bit awkward between us now. “The water is really choppy at the moment. It’s too risky.”

“How about the drop-off, then?”

Danny straightens his T-shirt. I think he’s about to tell me it’s too dangerous, too choppy, too risky, but he just clears his throat.

“Soon,” he says.

“It’s nearly the summer holidays,” I remind him. “I can practice every day.”

“Keep up the exercises, then,” he says. “You need steel thighs for the drop-off.”

He smiles thinly and tilts his head. I realize I completely misread his body language earlier. He doesn’t have feelings for me—he just feels sorry for me.

5

ON SUNDAY MY SHEPHERD’S PIE BUBBLES OVER IN THE OVEN.
The cheese drips down through the grills and sizzles on the bottom. Dillon is stressing over his studying at the kitchen table. We both have our last exams tomorrow. It’s biology day. We’ll even be in the hall together.

“Let me test you,” I say.

He passes me his biology book. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his cheekbones are jutting out.

“What’s the difference between DNA and RNA?” I ask.

“DNA is double stranded, RNA is single stranded.”

“It says more than that here.”

He exhales loudly and puts his hands around his waist, pressing into his ribs with his thumbs.

“The sugars are different. I don’t know—I can’t remember.”

“Try,” I say. “You have to know this. Your exam is tomorrow.”

“Pyrimidine and purine bases.” He signals for me to move to the next question.

“That’s the wrong answer.”

He grabs the book and starts flicking the pages.

“Your brain has shrunk,” I say.

Later, after I’ve skimmed my own notes and Dillon’s spent an hour on the phone begging our father to come home, I follow him to the bathroom. I jam my foot in the door as he tries to close it, and because I’m stronger than him now, he staggers back into the sink. He’s shaking.

“Please, Elsie. Leave me alone.”

“No!”

I shove him, and he almost loses his balance. He now has the same frame as Mum, but he’s at least a foot taller than her.

I fold my arms. “I’m not leaving.”

“Fine,” he says, and moves me out of the way so he can get to the toilet.

He bends at the waist over the toilet, and my shepherd’s pie shoots out of his mouth like a thick beef soup. He straightens and then leans again. I cover my mouth and my nose. My eyes water.

“Don’t cry,” he says. “I’m sorry about the pie.”

This makes me sob loudly.

“How do you do that?” I ask, still covering my face. “Without even . . .”

“It just happens,” he says. “It just happens when I lean over.”

“God, Dillon. You need help. I’m going to speak to Mum, and maybe you can speak to her therapist.”

Dillon grabs my wrist and leans in close. “You tell anyone, and I’ll tell them about your diving.”

“Okay, calm down. I won’t tell,” I say, moving my head away from his mouth. “Why don’t you get in the shower. You smell really bad.”

While he’s in the shower, I find laxatives in his bedside drawers. I take three, but nothing happens. I hide the rest under my bed along with my Superdrug stash.

I picture my life in the future. When Dillon has starved himself to death, I’ll have let two brothers die. Dad will be long gone, and that just leaves me with Mum. Every day will be like therapy day. I wonder if I could hold my breath for a whole year. I play a game with myself: if I can hold my breath for an extra twenty seconds in the morning, I’ll have one last read of my exam notes.

6

EXAMS ARE FINALLY OVER. BEFORE I LEAVE THE BUILDING FOR THE SUMMER,
I go to collect my boat from the technology block, but it’s not in my drawer where I left it. Anger rises within me. Ailsa. I check everywhere—in all the bins, under the tables, behind the cupboards—for bits of my boat. Nothing. I ask Mr. Jones and he frowns.

“Ask him,” Mr. Jones says, pointing to Frankie. “He’s always around—he must know something.”

“What have you done with my boat, Frankie?”

“Relax,” he says calmly. “I rescued it from that ugly girl who’s always harassing you.”

He goes to his drawer and takes out his wooden box. His box is beautiful, way better than my boat, and I feel a pang of envy. It’s covered in grooved-out shapes and lines that look like maths and physics symbols. I should have tried harder, should have spent more time on my boat instead of reading my diving notes. Frankie lifts the lid of his box and pulls out my boat. It’s in one piece.

I grab it from his hands and then remember to say thank you.

“It’s really good,” he tells me. “The sails are in perfect proportion. If it was real, it would go really fast.”

“Thanks,” I say again. “I like your box, too.”

He blushes, then asks me if I want to go crabbing with him, just as Lara wanders into the room.

“Elsie, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

She stands between me and Frankie with a hand on her hip and swishes her hair into Frankie’s face. She’s been searching me out a lot recently, accosting me in the corridor, begging me to tell her where Dillon is, why he isn’t spending any time with her.

“I don’t know where he is,” I tell her now. “He finished his exam early, so I guess he’s gone out to celebrate.” I swallow a huge lump in my throat. He practically ran out of the exam and he looked like he was about to throw up.

“Actually, I don’t even care about him anymore. I came to see if you wanted to hang out over the summer. Go into Inverness and stuff. You know, get drunk, find boys to kiss, or whatever.”

She says
whatever
as though it might mean something sordid. I try not to think of her and Dillon. Until a few weeks ago, I had been wondering about doing
whatever
with Tay over the summer. I feel hot just thinking about it. And then I think of Danny and feel even hotter. Frankie jumps in and saves me.