In Deep Read online

  She grins. “And then he really gets it in the end, too. You’ll love it.”

  • • •

  Twenty minutes into trying to read some of the books Kate’s pulled for me—way more than I need or could even carry—I hear the low, distinct bzzzzzz of my phone vibrating in the side pocket of my bag at my feet. I look around to make sure no one else heard it, especially not Woodham, who’d take my phone away from me just for having it on during school hours. I pretended this morning to forget to turn it off, figuring my battery might die anyway, struggling to find a signal under the iron curtain that surrounds our school. I wasn’t really hoping Gavin would text—I just wanted to know if he did, so I could keep track and not be caught off guard like yesterday. If things are really cooling off between him and Grier, I need to be ready for what might be coming next.

  Even just the small idea that maybe he’s finally made a move again does make feigning interest in Kate’s research a little easier, I admit.

  24

  EXCEPT, WHEN SCHOOL’S OVER AND I’m finally allowed to check, the message isn’t from Gavin. Instead it’s some spam text from our cell phone plan telling me about some stupid upgrade. This means the last thing I heard from Gavin was his text after practice yesterday: you are a powerhouse. I got it when I got home from Charlie’s. Two minutes later there was also a message from Grier saying Gavin still hadn’t called her and what should she do. I ignored Gavin and told Grier to keep ignoring him, too. It wasn’t out of any kind of strategy, either—I was just still feeling strange about how I’d left things with Charlie.

  Now it’s almost a relief to see this new message wasn’t Gavin. Because it means he really is a puss. Obviously, he’s already tired of both Grier and me—which I knew was going to happen the whole time. All it took was a few hours of ignoring him. That it happened so fast is a little disappointing, but it doesn’t matter. Now Grier can get over it, and we can go back to normal. Dealing with Gavin in the pool for the rest of the summer will be the same as not dealing with him at all. I was right, and it didn’t even take that long.

  When I get to practice, though, Grier’s actually on time—and standing right next to Gavin, chatting with the other guys on the team like they’re all best pals. Like my teammates weren’t all chicken of Gavin and his friends just last week. Like I didn’t firmly tell Grier to ignore him not even twenty-four hours ago. It’s more than annoying—it’s weak, the way she has no discipline. I twirl my arms in their sockets and smooth my cap, trying to remember some of the Lincoln crap I was reading up until the last bell, instead of wondering what happened to the girl who once took a dump in her prissy neighbor’s yard just because I dared her to. Trying not to feel the sand underneath my eyelids. Definitely not being joiny-joiny with all those hose-weeds over there.

  Grier’s palm on my back makes me jump.

  “Hey”—she laughs—“you okay?”

  “Sure. Just focused. Only a few more—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” That mocking, bored tone in her voice. “Blah, blah, blah, qualifiers. But listen”—her eyes go over to everyone on the bleachers—“my dad’s coming back into town this weekend, so I thought I’d invite some people over before I’m quarantined, you know?”

  Both she and I know that even when both her parents are in town, she’s never really quarantined in the way the rest of us are, but it’s clear all she wants is for me to say yes. Without meaning to, I glance over at the boys on the bleachers. Gavin is very not purposefully looking over at me and Grier, and is instead pretending to be very interested in whatever boring-as-hell story it is Shyrah’s trying to impress him with. Gavin’s spine is straight, his abs all fully sucked in so that you can see every hard-earned ridge. Thighs clenched, tendons taut. I think of my hand in his hair, his mouth on mine. All those texts. I should say no. I should just go home, work on this damn paper. It would be better for all kinds of reasons. But then his shoulders shift and his chin tilts and I catch him sneaking a sideways glance over.

  Still, I can’t make it easy.

  “I’ve got a big paper for Conflicts, so I don’t know.”

  Grier’s eyebrows pull together. “You don’t really care about that, do you?”

  “No. But my teacher does. It’s basically the whole exam. If I fail, I have to take summer school.”

  “Well, that would suck. But you could come over for just a little while. Eat something, hang out. You could work on your paper later. Relaxing after practice a little might help, right?”

  Van comes out of his office then, and Grier gives me a panicked look.

  “I just thought,” she says, “some kind of thing with everyone would make things . . . I don’t know . . . less serious feeling for Gavin or something. More fun. But it won’t be fun if you’re not there.”

  I feel my mouth wanting to twist into a smile. I have to fight it. Hard. “Okay, but I can’t sleep over or anything. It can’t be that wild.”

  “Oh, no,” she promises, doe-brown eyes wide. “Dad’s back from Japan around nine, so everyone has to be out. It’s just a get-together, you know? Just everyone hanging out for a little while. Gavin can drop you home.”

  I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m way too tired today, and the stuff about Woodham’s paper isn’t exactly a lie. But Gavin is fully looking at us now.

  “Okay. But you have to be the one to explain to Louis.”

  She squeezes my hands in hers. “You’re the best.”

  • • •

  You’d think the water would be the last place a bunch of swimmers fresh out of practice would want to be, but at Grier’s it’s as if it’s the only place we can be comfortable with one another. I’m surprised at how many people are here: Gavin-Linus-Troy, of course, and Shyrah and Megan, but also Dylan, Sam, Kelly, Lucy, and Siena—people we hardly talk to or hang out with at all. I don’t know what Grier told them, or what she told Louis about this afternoon either, but it doesn’t matter. Louis just said to be home at a reasonable time. I texted Charlie and told him I was working. He texted back that he was proud.

  Now the twinkle lights are on, but it’s still not dark out. Nearly every floatie and toy in the Hawkins’s collection is in the pool, and I bump into one from time to time, lying across one of my own, eyes shut, half-dozing. There is laughter. A bag of marshmallows is being passed around, though Grier can’t get the fire pit going, and no one feels like helping her. Someone jumps into the pool with a loud splash. The water ripples around us. I open my eyes as Linus pulls himself up onto the end of my floatie, a joint between his lips. His wet fingers pass it to me. I’ve had some of that lemonade and vodka stuff Grier mixes in big pitchers for gatherings like this, but I didn’t mean to drink any. I was going to have water. But then a Solo cup was in my hand and I was twirling in the pool on a giant plastic doughnut and, well—

  Linus laughs, his eyes happy slits. I take a drag and then see my hand passing the joint back to him. This will be a funny thing for us all to talk about at practice tomorrow. It was actually a nice idea. It feels good to just lie here, floating, surrounded by hazy laughter. I picture Charlie and his sisters, asprawl in front of the TV. It might be fun if he were here too.

  I fan my hands in the water, pushing myself closer to the edge of the pool, the Grecian tile spinning dolphins at us in a turquoise cascade of jumping delight. Megan kicks past me, her bottom breaking the surface and bobbing like a plastic toy someone could shoot and win. There’s another splash. The Jacuzzi bubbles somewhere to the right. There is a person or two in there. Drifty faces. Grier is laughing, hard, in the shallow end. The light is perfect. Someone leaps off the diving board. Someone else hollers, “Sharks and Minnows!” and we divide into teams, moving toward separate ends of the pool. Somewhere in the back of my blurry brain, I think maybe, if it could always be like this, I might not mind people so much.

  I slide off the floatie and shove it out of the pool. Before long, I’m in the dark-blue deep end, clinging to the gritty edge, more than a little b
uzzed now, but trying to look ready to launch at our attackers. I hear myself call words of encouragement, see Shyrah’s proud shining head four feet to my right. I know he can make the entire length of this pool in one breath. I think he is a good teammate. I should be nicer to him. Someone screams, “Go!” and there is a bunch of splashing. I’m not sure where the No Man’s Land marker is. There are bodies swimming past me, and I dive, trying to grab. They may be my own teammates. I don’t care. I’m laughing underwater. This is so nice. Hands are flailing, faces wide and open above the water. The light continues to dim, almost in a steady stream, like you can see it disappearing. The air above the pool is so warm. More laughing. A shriek. Then Gavin swims by me, flinging water off his forehead, not even looking at me. I go under again, aswirl in the bubbles he makes, waiting for him to pass by me, but without warning, he’s turned around and his warm hand is on my knee, then above my knee, sliding into the curve of my thigh. Up, higher, gripping me firm. Unapologetic. Not hesitating. Warm and knowing and utterly there.

  I kick—once, twice, forcing us apart. He breaks the surface at the same time I do. His teeth are straight. His hair is dark and sleek. His cheekbones hang droplets off their sharp edges like Christmas tree ornaments. My crotch is burning where his hand kneaded it. He’s just a few feet away, treading water, face happy though he’s not looking at me again. It’s like it didn’t happen. But I’m on fire. My legs kick themselves in circles in the water, over and over, not sure what to do. I reach for the edge again, clinging, letting my body drift down, down. Hanging there, useless.

  • • •

  It doesn’t take long for the game to lose its fizzle. A bunch of us head into the Jacuzzi. Someone passes water bottles around, a universal signal that things are winding down. It’s still not dark yet, but it’s about to be, and we all feel it. Partying for us is a little like sprinting—a big, huge burst of energy and then, ugh. A few people go inside to change. Even the music quiets. I look around the yard.

  “Where’s Grier?”

  “Probably getting bent in half by Gavin upstairs,” Troy says, laughing. It shocks me, something so vulgar coming out of a guy who looks so gentle. It’s even weirder when Linus gives him a high five, but I know they’re both right. I feel mad again all over. Grier said it wouldn’t be fun without me here, but what she meant was no one would come if I didn’t. And then she couldn’t hook back up with Gavin.

  “What time is it?” someone wants to know, changing the subject.

  Kelly stands up then and asks does anyone need a ride. Without thinking, I raise my hand. Kelly doesn’t drink, but she doesn’t judge, either, and she always insists on driving people home if they need it, no matter where they live. Since she goes to my school, we live pretty close, so I don’t feel bad about it. I need to get out of here anyway.

  “Get some rest,” she tells me when she drops me off, serious. “You look like you could use it.”

  I thought I was doing a good job of faking it in the car, but I guess not. As I say bye and go into the house, part of me wants to prove her wrong, stay up awhile, but that would mean joining Mom and Louis for their dessert, and I really don’t think I can fake it with them tonight. Not when my eyes are rimmed red from weed and exhaustion and I still feel a burning handprint between my legs.

  So after the obligatory “How was your day?” and “Fine” and “Thanks for letting me go to Grier’s,” I grumble something about getting some reading done and take a plate of dinner up to my room. They both look concerned, mixed maybe with some disapproval, but they can’t argue with me much if what I’m doing is homework—the main thing they’re always harping on me about. Of course what I really do is eat and watch a few videos on YouTube. Around nine I get a text from Grier: making up iz awesum!!! There’s a photo attached, but I don’t need to look at it. A glance at my notifications tells me she’s already tagged me in a bunch of pictures from this afternoon too. So. Happy-go-lucky Grier again. Friendy friend friend blah blah blah, all kissy and made up with Gavin, fuck lord of the universe. I put my laptop onto the floor and curl under the covers.

  Kelly’s right. I do need some rest. Tomorrow—I need to be back on my game.

  25

  NO DREAMS, ONLY SLEEP. IN the morning I’m back to normal.

  Wake.

  Pee.

  Dress.

  Breakfast, and the game with Louis in the car.

  School.

  School.

  Charlie, lunch, his pals, whatever. Charlie asks me how the paper’s coming, and I even remember one or two things from what I read yesterday.

  More school.

  Then Kate and some light teasing about this weekend. Enough to keep her glowing, anyway. Woodham’s stupid lecture on works cited. We’ll be in the library again tomorrow, getting shown some database by the librarian.

  Then, finally, practice.

  At the pool, everyone who was at Grier’s is giggling and sly-eyed, mooning over what fun we all had in our little social club yesterday. Which means instead of tuning out with earbuds, priming myself for what I know needs to be a hard workout, I have to stand there and chitchat, too, because otherwise Grier will think something is up. Which, fine—I know how to play this. I hold my face in a way that suggests I’m listening, though I don’t say anything myself. I move my face in a smile when it’s expected. I can’t look at Gavin, because as soon as I hear his voice, all I can think about is him grabbing me in the pool yesterday. I know it’s important not to acknowledge that gesture even in the slightest, so I hold still. I keep everything in me even. It’s hard to not see him though, since Grier’s standing right next to him, bumping him with her hip from time to time, but even more important than being unfazed by yesterday is making regular friendly eye contact and laughing with her.

  When Van comes down, I realize my jaw’s clenched so tight, my teeth hurt. I take a breath, try to relax.

  I am normal, aloof. I am what I always am.

  I get in the water. I swim.

  I am fast, faster, fastest.

  I get it done.

  • • •

  In the car on the way home, I can feel the tightness in me finally ebbing a little when a text brrrrrings in. Inexplicably, a burst of anger crawls up my neck and behind my eyes. Gavin needs to just fuck off, leave me alone, and go waste his time on Grier since he loves screwing her so much. But I know if I actually said all that, he’d think I cared what he does. Besides, it is amusing how much my ignoring bothers him. Couldn’t even stand it one whole day. Someone needs to tell him to quit being so pathetic.

  But the message isn’t from him. It’s from Charlie.

  polo, ok if we don’t hang today?

  I pause, trying to picture what I’ll do instead in the time between now and dinner. I see myself riding bikes with my dad. Watching him repair the lawn mower for the sixtieth time because we couldn’t afford a new one. Him teaching me how to play poker so that I could sit by him and not be bored when the fire station guys came over for hoagies and beer.

  ok. I type back.

  I wait. Louis makes some comment about my popularity these days as we get out of the car. He sounds impressed, glad for me, but I barely register. What’s wrong with Charlie that he doesn’t want to hang out, especially since we didn’t yesterday? After how chummy I’ve forced myself to be with his pals, he can’t think there’s anything wrong with me. Besides, I need him. I need him to clean my palate from Gavin, so to speak.

  you ok? I text, after he says nothing.

  yeah it’s no big deal. ethan’s just over.

  I picture them watching TV or playing video games, with Cinnamon and Chloe laughing at their jokes. Being goofy. Being friends.

  tell him hi. have fun.

  I am fine about it, I am. Charlie’s just doing—whatever it was he did before we started hanging out. He needs to see his friends. It’s totally normal. It’s his routine.

  make it up friday? he finally says.

  sure, I agree, not unders
tanding any of this.

  With little else to do, I try reading more of the books Kate found for me on John Wilkes Booth, but it’s hard to focus on anything. My eyes keep blurring and trying to close. I read several pages over and over. Downstairs, at dinner, which I have no way of escaping, I try to recite some back to Mom and Louis. I know from experience that the weight of silence with both of them really is worse than the effort of talking. But I can’t keep all the dates and names straight. I switch to trying to explain this other whole book that focuses on the significance of the Civil War in terms of how it shaped current politics, with a lot of speculation about where we’d be if Lincoln hadn’t been killed and—I don’t really know what I’m talking about.

  “Sounds really interesting.” Louis nods, scraping his plate clean. Trying to help me out a little.

  “You know there are several battle sites around here,” Mom says cheerfully. “Maybe we could all go—”

  “ ’Fraid all I’m going to have time for is practice and this stupid reading until the semester’s over,” I say, getting up and clearing their plates.

  They nod and mmm, proud and understanding, which drives me crazier than usual for some reason tonight. To force myself to be calm, I stay and load the dishwasher, and even wipe the counters.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say, heading back to my room. Doing the dishes—pushing myself through something I don’t want to do—has given me an idea, and it doesn’t involve reading any more of this boring crap.

  kate its b. I text. I’m not sure if Kate really pays attention to her phone or if she’s used to anyone texting her, but it’s worth a shot.

  To my surprise, she answers pretty quick: brynn?

  yeah. i can’t do this, I tell her.

  ????? she asks.

  these books r killing me.

  go slow. take notes. draw pictures if you need to.

  I roll my eyes. annowhatevrs due friday, right??? I ask her.

  just the 1st 3.

  i can’t read all this by then, I insist.