In Deep Page 11

  The frustration of this morning, that fucking printer, washes over me again, though.

  “It’s funnier if you see it in person. So I’ll save it.”

  “Well, thanks, I think. Here.”

  She shoves a handful of papers at me then, ones she’s been clutching since we left Chu’s room. My summaries. I’d forgotten them. But taking just one glance, I can see she wrote over a page for each book.

  “Um—thanks.” I’m so grateful and relieved, it’s hard to look at her. I feel embarrassed she’s done this for me.

  She doesn’t know what to say either, so we go into the library, carrying our silence between us. I know to tuck those summaries away as fast as possible, hide them until they can be copied over in my own words. Kate and I sit together at a table, but she takes out her notes and pretends to read over them. So she doesn’t think I’m a total wasteoid, I sit up straight during the demo from the librarian, take some kind of notes, and try to listen, but even with the extra caffeine, I’m still so heavy. But this time, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have to do with being tired.

  • • •

  As I arrive at practice, the chlorine smell reaches out to snap me from my drag, but it’s not working. I pad down the hall in my bare feet past the locker room to the regular women’s bathroom, where it’s more private. After changing, I splash water on my face, slap my cheeks—hard—three times in a row to bring the blood back. I glare at myself in the mirror, flaring my nostrils. Kate. Gavin. Charlie. School. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. This does.

  I suck in a hard breath and then clench every muscle in my body as tight as I can. I count slow to sixty. This is ridiculous. This is pathetic. I have a couple of late nights, a couple of weird encounters, and I’m all droopy like a baby. There isn’t time for this. More important, there isn’t a need for it. It’s self-indulgent, and it’s weak. Never breaking eye contact with myself in the mirror, I reach my arms over my head and bring my hands together as though preparing for a dive. Breath still held, I watch the hollows between my ribs stretch out, the rock-hard curves of my shoulders and pecs stiff and solid. You could bounce quarters off every inch of me, anywhere on my body. Fifty-nine, sixty. I let out my breath slow, unclench everything. A wave of ahh washes over me. I’m better.

  Hell. You could bounce quarters off my fucking heart.

  • • •

  After warm-ups, I make sure to sit next to Grier, on the other side of her from Gavin, but still friendly. Pals. I don’t have to. I could just sit wherever and probably neither of them would care. But as I told Kate, there’s power in getting through something you hate.

  We have only three more hard practices, including today, before our taper week next week and then the big shave meet Saturday and qualifying for State, which, more importantly, means making National Cut. Still, it’s a big meet for everyone, so now Van’s even more into confidence, self-care, and smart carbs than usual. I feel myself zoning out. Maybe I should’ve gotten that second Dr Pepper.

  At one point Grier elbows me, but I don’t know what it’s in reference to. I elbow her back anyway, as though I’ve understood.

  When Van’s done, he orders us to the nearby weight room so that we can do dry lands. Everyone groans, and there’s some under-breath cursing. Of course, this is exactly how I feel too, but again I keep my face still. I will be all about whatever Van needs to throw at me, at us. This tiredness is nothing. Neither is Gavin trying to catch my eye. That dumb-ass thing he said last night about me liking it better when he’s with Grier.

  We grab our weights and then do lunges all the way around the pool, three times, plus a bunch of rotator cuff stuff. Squats. Side layouts. Then full-body pushups, ending with two-minute planks. Around me, my teammates are squealing, groaning, or at least breathing hard, but I keep my gaze at a specific spot on the concrete in front of me, letting my own breath out slow and even. It’s hard; I won’t lie. My arms are shaking, and my eyes feel raw, but I tighten my butt and push my hips forward a few millimeters farther, feeling the tautness along my whole abdomen and enjoying the burn. The hurt. I will hold this. I will hold this. I will hold it until the end.

  When Van blows his whistle, I look around, still holding my plank. Almost everyone has collapsed, cheeks against the cold floor. I want to too. I want to so much. But immediately across from me, the only other person still holding his plank is Gavin, smiling at me huge.

  • • •

  One hundred fly, easy.

  Four 75s, backstroke, on 1:30.

  One hundred fly, on 2:00.

  Breaststroke.

  Fly again, on 2:00.

  Freestyle.

  Then pull kicks and buoy, ending with 200 fly.

  I take it easy and slow there at the end.

  Sometimes forcing yourself to relax is part of it too.

  • • •

  Out of the pool, I towel off and wait for Grier, just to push myself that last bit further. Van’s talking to her and a couple of the other sprinters—Siena, Dylan—probably about their suck times, from the look on Van’s face. Siena can barely bring her eyes up to meet his, she’s so upset with herself, and Dylan keeps jerking his head in these short, sharp little nods. Grier though—Grier could care less, standing there with her hip cocked and her arms crossed, just waiting for Van to be done talking. Her cavalier attitude is even more exaggerated than before she met Gavin. Before she found something else to care about. Other teammates move past them to the locker room then emerge again with clothes-yanked-on speed. Shyrah and Linus offer me high fives. Everybody’s gone except Van, the sprinters, and Gavin, who is obviously lurking, talking to ha-ha Megan. I am heavy, so heavy, but I will stand here and I will make myself wait.

  “God,” Grier finally huffs, coming over to me. She’s yanking a towel over her head. Her buzz cut is starting to grow out actually cute. Without meaning to, I picture Gavin raking his hands through her hair, then mine.

  “I can’t wait for next weekend when we can all just show Van how much we suck and have it be done with. He knows I’m not going to make State. Jesus. I don’t know why he keeps acting like I might.”

  The old, encouraging me hauls herself up, automatic: “You’re not a bad swimmer. If you actually worked at it a little—”

  “As if.” She glares in the direction of Van’s office, to where he’s disappeared. “But, hey, it’s not like I’m not getting a workout anyway, right?” She smiles up at me.

  Uncontrollably, god damn it, I look in Gavin’s direction then yank my eyes back. More impish grinning from Grier.

  I shake my head and laugh in the back of my throat in a way that I hope sounds dismissive.

  “I’m surprised either of you can swim half the distance of the pool then. Since you know Van’s going to ream you out, why don’t you just skip practice altogether? Sounds like you need your beauty rest. And if you don’t really care—”

  I make it playful. I make it.

  She rolls her eyes, rubbing the towel over the rest of herself. “I probably should quit. It’s so tiresome how we can never have any kind of a life. Everybody had a great time Wednesday. And it’s idiotic that that has to be abnormal. Linus is having people over tomorrow night, in fact. He doesn’t care either. I mean, whatever. This is just basic training for them, right? So why should we push ourselves to death? I think he likes you, by the way.”

  It pulls me out of my thoughts about fun. About pushing.

  “Linus?”

  She touches her big toe to the top of my foot. “We could double-date?”

  Now, now’s the time Gavin chooses to come over, having apparently dismissed Megan. The way he’s walking, those shoulders back, chest out, I can tell it’s all on purpose. Such a fucking peacock douche.

  But my timing’s still nothing to sniff at either.

  “Oh, gosh. I mean, it sounds fun, and Linus is nice and everything, but Charlie and I have a date.” I smile up at Gavin on the last word.

  “Bring him along,” he s
ays immediately, echoing my fake-happy expression. Something in his eyes, though, makes it seem like he’s thinking about me kissing Charlie in all the places he kissed me last night. Good. He should be. I should be too, for that matter.

  “Yeah, come on. Charlie never hangs out with us.” Grier snakes her arm around Gavin’s waist. I wonder if he’s thinking about me holding him that way too.

  “That’s nice,” I say, “but I think he has special plans.”

  “Ooh la la,” Grier says, giggling. “That’s interesting.” She widens her eyes in a pointed way, as though we’ll need to talk about it later. As though I would tell her anything these days. “Saturday, though? Again? Charlie could come too.”

  Yeah, right, Charlie could come.

  “Gosh, I don’t know how I’m going to keep up with you, Grier,” I tease. Not. Looking. At. Him. Though the exhaustion really is starting to take over now. “I thought your dad was in town anyway.”

  She ignores my last comment and raises her hands over her head in victory.

  “For once I’ve beaten her!”

  There’s no point in even acknowledging this. And I’m not sure I can stand here much longer.

  “Come on, little champion.” Gavin puts a hand on Grier’s shoulder. “Let’s go get some burgers or something. I’m starved.”

  She cuddles up against him. He starts to lead her away and then pauses, faking that he just thought of the idea. “You hungry too?”

  “No, thanks,” I say, tossing my head just a little. “You two go stuff your faces.”

  “Oh, we will.” Gavin winks, obviously getting what I meant and flaunting it.

  You do that, I think as they walk away together. You stuff yourselves with each other until you pop.

  • • •

  On the ride home, I text Charlie. It isn’t the Gavin thing—it’s really not—but this time I’m the one not up for hanging out after practice. That makes us skipping out on each other three times this week, which is a little strange, but there are Kate’s summaries to translate into my own words, and beyond that, I seriously need some sleep, and it won’t take an hour of messing around with anyone to help me get there.

  All Charlie texts back, after about a half hour, is dinner tmrrw @ maria’s. shes xcited! ok? It’s the last freaking thing I need today. I didn’t really mean it when I said that thing about grouping tomorrow night, but whatever. I text back, fine and shut my eyes. Right now I just need some protein. I need my bed.

  28

  IT ALWAYS AMAZES ME WHAT a difference some solid sleep can make in your life. Van talks about it all the time—how important it is for us to eat well and rest—but sometimes I forget. I forget how good I can feel after eight hours of sleep. It only takes one nightmare-free night or a hefty nap over the weekend before I’m back on track. I thought I was going to die of tiredness last night at eight when I crawled into bed and set my alarm for four thirty, but now it goes off and I don’t even mind. I pop up right away, do my thing, and then spend the rest of the time until Louis comes down reworking Kate’s summaries into pieces that sound slightly like I might’ve written them. I even have time to change the ink cartridges and print out her collage.

  “What’s this?” she says when I slide it to her in Enviro.

  “Oh, just a little good-luck charm. And, thanks, too. Hey—you look really good today.”

  She has on makeup. Not a lot, just some mascara and maybe a little blush. Lip stain. Just enough to notice. Her hair is different too—straighter somehow, shiny. And she’s wearing a scarf.

  She tries not to look pleased with herself; fails. “Well, I don’t want Connor thinking I can only get gussied up for dates, right?”

  She wants to seem cool. She almost pulls it off.

  “That’s right.” I nod. “But regular old slumpy Kate should still make an appearance from time to time.”

  She makes a noise of protest. As though she’s not ever slumpy.

  I toss my head. I really am back to myself. “You don’t want him getting all cocky, thinking he’s the cause for your glowing metamorphosis. You’re just doing all this because you feel like it. Certainly not for some boy.”

  “But what if—?”

  “I’m just saying, keep him guessing.” I wink. “They like it better when they don’t know exactly what to expect. Besides . . .” I think about her protesting my advice last week, and now here she is, obviously all suckered-out on him but working it. All of it having worked. It boosts me even more. “You want him to like the real you, right?”

  “Lip gloss and a little hair pomade isn’t enough to hide the real me. Let’s both be serious.”

  There’s the bell. The start of class.

  “Yeah,” I whisper, smiling, knowing what I’m about to say will make her blush. “But you’d be amazed how finally getting a little action can transform a girl. You need to brace yourself.”

  • • •

  Woodham’s apparently pretty serious about making us focus on these papers, because he gives us the whole class period to read through our other two sources—the ones with summaries due on Monday. While we do that, he collects the ones due today and grades them to hand back so that we can see where there’s “room for improvement.” I try to focus, but he can’t seriously believe that we’ll read all this in one hour. Besides, it’s more fun trying to distract Kate by drawing dirty little pictures on the edge of my paper and putting them where she can see. By the end of class, she’s red faced and choking back giggles, and I feel like ten thousand bucks, at least.

  Woodham hands back our summaries, but I don’t even look at mine. I feel great. As Kate and I walk out of class, we’re both still giggling.

  “You’re too much,” she says. “And yet”—she taps her chin thoughtfully—“I kind of want Connor to meet you. If you promise not to embarrass the shit out of me. My parents are already bad enough.”

  She’s shy about this, so I make sure not to laugh. Still, thinking of Charlie and his friends, that party at Grier’s—the one with the swim team that feels forever ago now—it occurs to me that sometimes, people can be fun.

  So I’m surprised, in a good way, when I find myself echoing Grier to Kate, “Yeah, maybe we could double-date.”

  • • •

  At practice I’m back to smoking everyone. Grier teases me about my date with Charlie tonight, about how sweet it is, and even though it’s right there in front of Gavin—which, thanks a lot, dick, for insulting me in front of him—I don’t bother responding to her. She can make fun of me and screw Gavin upside down ten ways to Sunday for all I care. He’s still watching me when we leave the pool, and I know it. And, well, he should be watching me. Because shit, look at me. I am on fucking fire.

  29

  IT’S FUNNY THAT CHARLIE WANTS to drive the three and a half blocks between our houses to pick me up on the way to Maria’s, but whatever. Mom and Louis are delighted. I’m still high from how great this day has been anyway.

  “Why, Charlie, we never get to see you!” Mom coos, giving him a big hug. Louis shakes his hand and claps him on the back, asks how his times are looking. Both of them are treating him as if we’re actually girlfriend and boyfriend, like this is just the beginning of some future they can smile into for the rest of their lives.

  It makes me suddenly feel the way I do with Charlie’s mom, whenever I’m over there and she starts getting all chatty. Or how I’ve felt before, going on dates with him: trapped and alone—pretending this isn’t going to end. I plaster a fake-interested smile on my face while Charlie politely answers Louis’s suck-up questions, but I can’t stop staring at the picture of me, Mom, and Dad on the mantel, all of us smiling. Smiling because we don’t know.

  When I apologize to Charlie for Mom and Louis’s annoying gushiness once we’re in the car, he just shrugs it off.

  “Eh. They haven’t seen me in a while. And I’m a lot to fuss over.”

  Something about the way he says it—his jokey, unruffled smile, maybe, and
my gratitude that he’s so sweet and reliable—makes me lunge at him. Probably it’s just because we haven’t been together for several days. But, in spite of my doomed feeling just now in the living room, I take his face in my hands and kiss him with the power of my whole body. And as I do, to my surprise, the fizzy feeling I had with Kate this afternoon bubbles up again. Soon my tongue becomes his tongue and the swirling between us melts the rest. I think, Maybe it could still be good, even if it ends. It could still be, for right now, something nice.

  “Okay, they really are watching us,” he says, laughing low.

  When I look, Mom and Louis, indeed, are peering out the living room window. Giddy, dizzy, powerful, I smile big, wave. Charlie waves too. He starts the car and we back out, laughing together as we go.

  • • •

  “I’m so glad you could come!” Maria squeals, opening the door for us. She’s in a swirly boho outfit that is totally surprising, considering the jeans and scoop-neck T-shirts she favors at school. Giant hoop earrings bob beside her merry cheeks, and several silver bangles chime on her thin wrist as she leans in to give me a hug. She’s like a gypsy princess or something, glimmering with color and light.

  “Thanks for having me.” I pat her back, a little stunned. “This is some kind of tradition, I guess?”

  “Every Friday.” She beams. “Unless, you know, there’s a school game or something. So, it’s not, like, every Friday, because sometimes not all of us can do it, or there’s something going on, but, gack”—she fans her hand in front of her face in a flutter—“you get the point. Oh, this is my mom.”

  Coming toward us is a small, flowy woman with the exact same heart-shaped face, the same brown eyes as Maria’s, only she is plumper and much more wrinkly.

  “So nice to meet you. Welcome.” She grips my hand in both of hers as we shake. She’s wearing three different scarves, and there’s a waft of patchouli when she moves.

  “Everyone’s in the sun-room,” Maria says to me. Then, to Charlie, with eyebrows going up and down: “And Chris brought Juniper.”