crooked to one side, making sure nothing fell out.
CHAPTER FIVE
That night I had the dream for the first time.
Bleach-flavored water invaded my sinuses, my throat. A hammer blow deafened me. I felt my weight lumber awkwardly, falling through the water onto the trowel swirls of the bottom of the pool.
I woke. I kicked at the sheets. It was one of those dreams when you wake thinking, Iâve been screaming. But you havenât; the dream takes your voice.
I pulled myself out of bed and sat at my desk and turned on the desk lamp. Itâs so abrupt sometimes, the transition from dark to light. I peeked into the closet, and Myrna blinked upward in greeting, six furry tadpoles nursing.
Audrey is always up at night, running in her well-oiled exercise wheel or nosing around the perimeter of her cedar, searching the wood shavings. She put her snout up to my finger through the rungs, and her whiskers tickled. I let Audrey out of her cage, and she policed my desk top, the lucky dice Dad had given me, and the Silky Sullivan key ring shaped like a four-leaf clover. Mom says I keep everything, and itâs true that the bottom drawer of my dresser is crammed with junior high school history tests with 100% scrawled beside my name, and pictures Iâve drawn, horses and swan dives.
I had a headache, like a heart inside my skull, rhythmic, vivid red on and off when I closed my eyes.
That morning, before breakfast, I slipped into my swimsuit, black with a Speedo emblem on the right hip. My mother watched, pretending there was nothing unusual happening, while I padded out to the backyard pool and took the steps into the shallow end.
âAre you okay?â Mom asked, keeping her place in a soil catalog with one finger. She buys the stuff from Costa Rica and has to have it irradiated before it ships, and inspected by the Department of Agriculture. She was draped in a dark green velour robe, a large, plush garment.
I gave her an opened-handed gesture: No big deal. The water edged upward, higher on the inside of my thighs. I tried to con myself into thinking I wasnât nervous.
She watched from the edge of the pool. She had just completed her morning swim, and the water was still trembling, her smoke-lens Barracuda goggles glittering on the poolside table. The pool was cool, even where the water gushed from the pump, a pucker marring the surface. I shivered. Mom stuffs all her hair into a bathing cap and swims underwater laps three or four times a week. Itâs a pool of ordinary backyard dimensions, but it takes lungs to pull four laps without a breath, and she can do it.
âLook out for the bug,â Mom said, indicating a ladybug on its back, legs kicking. I rescued the bug, cupped her in my hand, and left the tiny red helmet floating in a small pool, wings half-cocked, ready to fly.
I waded out to the slope of the deep end. Our backyard pool is not as pristine as the one at the school, a gray patina of algae along the water-level tiles. I stretched out and floated. One of my ears was ringing, a steely, persistent drone. I freestyled shakily up and down the pool a few times, and got out of the pool and toweled off with one of Momâs old terry-cloth towels, telling myself I would not throw up.
CHAPTER SIX
A couple of days later, Rowan came with me to watch the dive video. I was a little surprised, and pleased, because I still wasnât used to the fact that he seemed to like my company. As we walked up Lincoln Avenue toward the academy, he put one arm around me like he expected me to collapse on the sidewalk.
âWhat are you missing out on today?â I asked. I sounded sure of myself, but around Rowan I felt like a songbird, full of small talk. The codeine made me feel like I was walking through wet cement. Part of the problem might have been lack of sleep. Mom was always checking on me, pretending not to be worried, making sure my bedroom window was closed, offering me an extra pillow.
Rowan has a
CHAPTER FIVE
That night I had the dream for the first time.
Bleach-flavored water invaded my sinuses, my throat. A hammer blow deafened me. I felt my weight lumber awkwardly, falling through the water onto the trowel swirls of the bottom of the pool.
I woke. I kicked at the sheets. It was one of those dreams when you wake thinking, Iâve been screaming. But you havenât; the dream takes your voice.
I pulled myself out of bed and sat at my desk and turned on the desk lamp. Itâs so abrupt sometimes, the transition from dark to light. I peeked into the closet, and Myrna blinked upward in greeting, six furry tadpoles nursing.
Audrey is always up at night, running in her well-oiled exercise wheel or nosing around the perimeter of her cedar, searching the wood shavings. She put her snout up to my finger through the rungs, and her whiskers tickled. I let Audrey out of her cage, and she policed my desk top, the lucky dice Dad had given me, and the Silky Sullivan key ring shaped like a four-leaf clover. Mom says I keep everything, and itâs true that the bottom drawer of my dresser is crammed with junior high school history tests with 100% scrawled beside my name, and pictures Iâve drawn, horses and swan dives.
I had a headache, like a heart inside my skull, rhythmic, vivid red on and off when I closed my eyes.
That morning, before breakfast, I slipped into my swimsuit, black with a Speedo emblem on the right hip. My mother watched, pretending there was nothing unusual happening, while I padded out to the backyard pool and took the steps into the shallow end.
âAre you okay?â Mom asked, keeping her place in a soil catalog with one finger. She buys the stuff from Costa Rica and has to have it irradiated before it ships, and inspected by the Department of Agriculture. She was draped in a dark green velour robe, a large, plush garment.
I gave her an opened-handed gesture: No big deal. The water edged upward, higher on the inside of my thighs. I tried to con myself into thinking I wasnât nervous.
She watched from the edge of the pool. She had just completed her morning swim, and the water was still trembling, her smoke-lens Barracuda goggles glittering on the poolside table. The pool was cool, even where the water gushed from the pump, a pucker marring the surface. I shivered. Mom stuffs all her hair into a bathing cap and swims underwater laps three or four times a week. Itâs a pool of ordinary backyard dimensions, but it takes lungs to pull four laps without a breath, and she can do it.
âLook out for the bug,â Mom said, indicating a ladybug on its back, legs kicking. I rescued the bug, cupped her in my hand, and left the tiny red helmet floating in a small pool, wings half-cocked, ready to fly.
I waded out to the slope of the deep end. Our backyard pool is not as pristine as the one at the school, a gray patina of algae along the water-level tiles. I stretched out and floated. One of my ears was ringing, a steely, persistent drone. I freestyled shakily up and down the pool a few times, and got out of the pool and toweled off with one of Momâs old terry-cloth towels, telling myself I would not throw up.
CHAPTER SIX
A couple of days later, Rowan came with me to watch the dive video. I was a little surprised, and pleased, because I still wasnât used to the fact that he seemed to like my company. As we walked up Lincoln Avenue toward the academy, he put one arm around me like he expected me to collapse on the sidewalk.
âWhat are you missing out on today?â I asked. I sounded sure of myself, but around Rowan I felt like a songbird, full of small talk. The codeine made me feel like I was walking through wet cement. Part of the problem might have been lack of sleep. Mom was always checking on me, pretending not to be worried, making sure my bedroom window was closed, offering me an extra pillow.
Rowan has a
Similar Books
Happy Families
Tanita S. Davis
The True Blue Scouts of Sugar Man Swamp
Kathi Appelt
Wolf Pact: A Wolf Pact Novel
Melissa de La Cruz
A Ghost to Die For
Elizabeth Eagan-Cox
The Twilight Zone: Complete Stories
Rod Serling
Vita Nostra
Marina Dyachenko, Sergey Dyachenko
Winterfinding
Daniel Casey
Time to Heal (Harlequin Heartwarming)
Karen Young
Red Sand
Ronan Cray