That’s probably the problem. Chase is kind of a butterfly chaser. He likes quick and erratic and ephemeral. I was always kind of surprised he and Chelsea never had a fast and furious affair. Instead, she went for Ryan, who’s about as exciting as a back issue ofBusiness Insider.
No grudges, honestly.
But really?
He just bugs me.
And I thought when Chelsea and I got together, he would just ffffffffade away. I like to say it like that. Like in that old song by the Who. But apparently, Ryan is around as long as Emily is. And now Chase comes with bonus features too. When did guests get to start inviting guests?
Unacceptable.
Ryan frowns at Emily, who’s flirting unabashedly with Chase as Mila hovers uncertainly in the background. Chelseascrambles up and pulls Mila back to her towel again. I kneel to put sunscreen on my thighs, and to allow Chase and Emily an unobstructed view of each other. “So. Any news?” I glance over to see Chelsea chatting up Mila animatedly.
“Where did Mila come from, you mean,” Chase says. He lies down on his back and pulls his T-shirt over his head and sunglasses over his eyes. He refuses to wear sunscreen, and I can see the beginning of a burn underneath his hairline and on his cheeks.
Emily plays with her own sunglasses, cheap plastic frames she painstakingly covered in fragments of mirror. It sounds tacky, but it came out looking glamorous and unique. It matches her silver-and-black handmade bikini and the disco-ball pendant that hangs around her neck in the frame of a globe. “Do tell.”
“I met her at a lacrosse game a few weeks ago. We’ve been keeping things low-key, but it’s summer now, and I don’t know.” He shrugs. “No more games, no more studying. Time to have fun for once.”
“I agree,” Emily says. She scoots closer on her elbows, and I stand.
“Anyone for a swim? First of the season?” I step to the edge of the dock, but everyone looks up at me lazily. I step forward and take Mila’s hands. “You haven’t been initiated. First swim is a tradition.”
She looks back at Chase with a helpless expression. “Tradition as in we all go together?”
He waves it off. “Lunch coma.”
I pull her to the edge firmly and look into her eyes. “Honey.I am not going to let you drown.” And with me, she won’t. The rules on this are clear. The dripping man came for me when I was small, when I was too young to see the warning signs. The sudden cold. The inexplicable sense of anger. A sense of confusion, a pulsing in the head, time being distorted, a knife in the fabric of a sweet summer sky. I look around for backup. “Right?”
“Trust her!” Chelsea gives an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Ryan shakes his head back and forth emphatically and mouths,Don’t do it.
She glances back at Chase frantically. “I’m not a strong swimmer. I really shouldn’t.”
Chase starts to stand up, and Emily quickly jumps to her feet and says, “Kennedy!”
Her tone is so sharp it stops me cold. “What?”
“It’s not funny.” Emily smiles at Mila. “You don’t have to do anything you’re afraid of, sweetie.”
Mila’s eyes dart back and forth from Emily to Chase. A breeze ruffles the boat docked nearby and goose bumps rise on my arms, and for a split second, my attention is diverted and my eyes go to the sky. It wasn’t a wave of cold—not exactly. The cold from the presence of the dripping man isn’t external, like a breeze. It’s all-encompassing, systemic, as if your body is fighting it off like a fever. A symptom of a parasite, perhaps. The sun is blinding like it was the day I was dragged under, and I quickly lower my eyes, my heart pounding. The headache strikes fast, too fast to react, but I often get headaches from bright lights and sharp sounds—it’s a family trait. I turn my head to warn Mila—it might be coincidence—but I do feelcold now, and even if it’s in my head, even if it’s fear getting to me, an abundance of caution demands that I stop her. But the pain in my head is so sharp, the spots in my eyes so disorienting, that it takes me a moment to focus on Mila’s face. I see her step uncertainly up to the edge of the dock, turn to me, open her mouth to speak—and then abruptly fall headfirst into the water.
A chill spills down my spine, and for a moment, no one does anything. I stare into the lake, waiting for Mila to resurface, willing her back to us, but the water ripples wildly over the spot where she disappeared. Then more gently, and more, until it faded to stillness. Like buttercream slowly being smoothed over to hide an imperfection in the surface of a cake. Burying the mistake. Making it beautiful.
Chase jumps to his feet. “What just happened?” he says, aghast.
“Dripping man,” I whisper. I feel numb, immobile. He never comes this close to the house. He’s never followed the boat to the dock before. But he’s here now. I feel, or maybe imagine, two cold spots on my shoulders, impressions the size of hands, and stumble back from the edge of the dock.
Ryan pulls his shirt over his bony shoulders and pushes us both aside.
Chase, of course, takes this as his cue to jump, lest Ryan rescue his girlfriend and make him look unmanly or something.
Unfortunately, they bounce into each other on the way in and hit the water just as Mila’s head finally breaks the surface, knocking her back under.
“What the hell, Ryan?” I shake myself back into action, andwhen Mila reaches the surface again, I pull her up to the dock with Chelsea’s help.
“Nice save, Ry.” Chase tosses Ryan a cold look as he pulls himself up out of the water. Ryan follows, glaring.