“Theodore. Relax. He came by to visit and help with a few things around the house.”
“Oh, I bet he did. Like rearranging your pantry to his stupid obsessions or maybe pulling his man-cave shit out of the basement.” My head is pounding suddenly, and my hands have formed fists without me even realizing it.
“He lost her, too, you know.”
My mouth drops open at her words and I stand only to fall back a few steps. I can feel the heat climbing up my ribs and down my spine. My teeth clench and my jaw pops. She may as well have pummeled me with a heavy fist.
“He’s grieving, Theodore. Just like we are.”
I inhale, a beast growing in my chest.
“No. He’s not.” I grab my phone from the altar, and before my mom can utter more bullshit that is only going to send me into a bigger rage, I end our call and storm out of the peaceful chapel into the brisk late afternoon air.
I’ve been giving Ma endless amounts of slack, but this feels too far. Inviting Neil back into her life after the damage he did to our family—to my sister—is unacceptable. It’s as if she has completely wiped her mind of the day she threw him out. Anika was in tears at the kitchen table, and it was the first time I’d ever seen our mother stand up to someone as she piled Neil’s belongings at the front door. It seemed to take hours for her to convince him she was serious about him leaving the house. Time wasted now that she’s invited him right back in.
This is usually the time Cameron heads down to the riverwalk to smoke. I start in that direction in hopes of joining him to take the edge off so I’m not completely wound for tonight, but my path is cut off by the only person I want to talk to less than my ma. Lily is walking across the main lawn, and I know she sees me. I know the exact moment she spotted me because she picked up the pace and shifted the towel on her shoulder to block her face from my view.
Good. If she can pretend not to see me, I can do the same. We both know the reality, but it seems we’ve come to a silent agreement on what’s best to make it through this. Maybe she’ll ignore James’ invite to the archive room tonight too. Probably not since they spent most of the morning together, but her reaction right now gives me hope.
I make it to the other end of the lawn before chancing a glance over my shoulder. She’s still motoring away from me, toward the fieldhouse. I know what she’s doing, but I can’t make it my business. If she wants to torture herself—if she wants to drown—it’s none of my business.
Except now it’s all I can focus on.
Pausing just before the pathway breaks into the riverwalk, I squeeze my eyes shut tight for a second and twist my body to look her direction one last time. I can still see her, barely. She isn’t slowing or turning around, rather she seems committed to whatever the hell she has planned.
I know what that is. I practically pushed her into this.
A low growl emanates from my throat, and I turn slowly, part of me hoping to spot Cameron nearby, wishing he’ll see me and call me over. It still won’t erase the nagging voice growing louder in the back of my mind, screaming at me to be responsible.
“Damn it,” I mutter, shoving my hands in my pockets and trudging my way in Lily’s direction. I’m going to make sure she understands this is a final-time deal. I’m not her babysitter; I don’t care what I did to push her into swimming again. It’s a stupid pissing contest. She isn’t supposed to actually go right back to the goddamn pool.
The campus is eerily empty, most everyone else in the dining hall or back in their rooms getting ready for tonight’s social plans. Welles keeps a busy calendar, always offering entertainment on the weekends. Sometimes it’s movies on the main lawn, other times it’s karaoke in the rec room. I think it’s a sock hop tonight. The rec room will be filled with first and second years teeming with pre-teen energy.Annoying.Those of us who have been here long enough know the real fun happens off campus, in the woods or the abandoned barn. At least, it used to. Getting off campus got a lot harder after the accident, as if that’s what caused my sister’s wreck. The student parking lot is monitored and gated, and the punishment when caught went from a first offense to possible expulsion. Which makes the library hideout, and any invites inside, even more coveted.
I peek through the small window in the fieldhouse door before I enter. Nobody is in the main breezeway, just the ghosts of trophies from decades ago, the last time Welles was a champion at anything—besides swimming, of course.That’s probably why Lily came to this school. Anika said she was a strong swimmer.Not strong enough.
I pull the door gently, trying not to announce my entrance in case Lily is in here alone. There are a few guys playing pick-up basketball in the gym, but the weight room is empty as I pass by. The air gets thick with chlorine the closer I get to the pool, and I pause at the double doors that lead into the main deck, pushing them open a hint so I can peek inside. Lily is pacing, goggles covering her eyes as she marches ten feet in one direction then the other as she pounds her fists against her thighs. She’s trying to psych herself into doing this. It’s pointless.
I push the door open wide, ready to stomp toward her and tell her to quit being stupid. Before I make it more than a full step inside, she dives into the water and sinks to the bottom, gliding with her hands stretched out as they run along the tiled lines on the floor. With a single move, she has contained the angry fire that was brewing in my chest. It’s still there, but not as raging. The urgency I felt to reprimand her, to lecture her on what her actions do to me, how she interrupts my life, is instantly replaced by curiosity.
Before she comes up to breathe, I back out of the door and duck as I pass the windows on my way to the stairwell. I take the steps two at a time, my inner voice urging me to hurry. I’m not sure whether I want to have eyes on her because I want to see if she’s really that good at swimming or because I want to make sure she doesn’t get herself in trouble again. Maybe it’s a little of both.
I peer around the wall to catch a view of her just as she breaks through the surface and flips her head up from the water. Her hair is slick along her neck and shoulders, the ends spread around her body like a blooming flower. She treads in the middle of the pool, her back to me, for several long seconds. Her arms draw slow circles in the water, sending ripples away from her body, like an echo of herself. A part of me wants to slink back down the stairs and leave her alone. This feels private. Yet something has me anchored here. I’m not sure, but I think it’s my need for information. I wasn’t there when it happened, the accident. I never got to see what Lily did.I’m hungry for details, as much as I also want to avoid them.
Without catching her attention or making a sound, I manage to slip into the back row of seats and slink low enough to peer through the space between the seats in front of me. Almost a minute passes of her in the middle of the pool, treading. There’s a sadness to her movement, as if the water is as thick as mud and she’s fighting her for life. Or maybe that’s just how I see it.
In a smooth motion, Lily transitions to her back and her arms windmill, pulling her body toward the edge, closer to me. She isn’t swimming for speed. Her strokes are more leisurely, those of someone who’s still learning or someone whose body is no longer meant for speed. It’s a jarring juxtaposition. Her legs are better toned than half of the guys on our football team, and her shoulders are broad, biceps defined, and arms long and powerful. Her fingers stretch behind her, reaching for the wall, gripping it at first touch. She spins around so her feet are against the pool wall, her body poised to push off, eyes focused on her flexed hands. I hold my breath in anticipation. She finally pushes and twists along the water’s surface, her arms digging in for commanding strokes that propel her to the center of the pool in seconds.
She is good.
I stretch my neck to get a better view, careful not to get too comfortable like this. I don’t want to stick out. I don’t want her to see me. I don’t want to have to talk to her, to answer the questions she’s likely to have.Did I follow her? Why?I can only answer one of those, the obvious one.
She’s three quarters across the pool, and my jaw tightens with the suspense. I can’t deny that I want to see her make it the entire length, just once. I’m not sure whether that will make me feel better or worse about her. Her effort somehow feels tied to me. We will either both keep failing, or . . . not.
Without warning, Lily stops hard about twenty feet from the opposite edge of the pool. A wave catches up to her as her arms sink to her sides while she buoys in the water, as if everything she worked so hard to build these last few seconds simply slipped through her fingers and passed her by.
She let it.
And then she screams.