Learning Not to Drown (12 page)

“Nah, Dan. Not tonight. Family time,” Luke answers. Dan's eyes creep over me.

“You can bring your sister.” His mouth is in a wide, ugly grin.

“Don't even think about it,” Luke warns.

“Okay, okay.” Dan backs up, holding his hands high. “Have fun with the fam, Luke. And come by sometime; I have something that you might be interested in.”

“Sounds good. See ya soon.” Three-part handshake again. I want to say, “What are you doing, Luke? Whatever Dan has, it can't be good. Don't do something that will put you in jail again.”

Instead I fume silently for the rest of the walk home.

•  •  •

The smells of fried onions, garlic, and meat, and something sweet—maybe brown sugar and peaches—have floated through the house all the way to the street. It wraps Luke and me in the feeling of home. We race to the door.

Dad flings it open to greet Luke with a hug.

“Just in time!” Mom shouts as we enter. “Wash up and come eat!”

I catch Peter's eye as we walk through the living room. He looks at Luke cautiously and gives a stiff “Hey.”

Luke grabs him and crushes him into a hug. “What? No love for your brother?” he asks as Peter wrestles his way out of his arms and heads toward the dining room.

Mom has added a chair on my side of the table, crowding my seat closer to Dad's. When Luke and I sit down, my shoulder brushes with his upper arm, causing a brief moment of the two of us shifting a bit apart, finally finding a comfortable spot.

My parents lead the conversation. Questions for Luke, Peter, me, each other. They don't allow the discussion to sag or turn awkward. Even Peter starts to loosen up by the end, joking a little and affording a couple of laughs. As I look around the table at my whole family, together, smiling, thoroughly enjoying each bite of dinner, complete with a peach pie for dessert, I have only one thought. Grab your camera, Mom. You'll want to scrapbook this. It's what perfect looks like.

It was sweltering—the thermometer said it was one hundred degrees. All I could think about was the icy-cold lake, but Mom insisted I was too young to go by myself. “You could drown. Besides, you are not supposed to be at the lake without an adult until you're at least thirteen.”

My friends had all left for family vacations, Peter wasn't home, and Luke was at the job he'd had for the past three months. So I lay on the cool kitchen tiles, feeling the breeze of the fan and listening to it hum, turning to speak into it occasionally, my robot voice my only entertainment. Until the front door burst open.

Smelling of sawdust, baloney sandwiches, and beer, Luke was home from work early!

“Get Bike-a-saurus, Squeaker,” he said. “I've worked hard today, and the lake's gonna feel great.”

Luke pedaled his bike fast. I pedaled faster. In minutes we were there. Kids were everywhere, splashing and screaming, and from the picnic benches their moms' craned their heads to see who had just arrived. Skeleton joined them, leaning in to hear the chitchat, slapping sunscreen onto his white bones, looking concerned.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” Luke ran for the water.

I was always the rotten egg.

Watching me wade my way to him, Luke asked, “When are you gonna learn how to swim right?”

“When are you going to teach me?” My feet sunk into the soft bottom.

“Right now,” Luke said. “By the end of this summer, I expect you to be racing the boys and beating 'em.”

I didn't care about beating the boys. I just wanted to be able to go into the deep end with my friends. Drea tried to teach me, but after three failed lessons with me not even managing to float, I was pronounced hopeless.

“First you need to trust the water to hold you, Squeaks.” Luke lay on the water like a raft was underneath him. “See.” He popped back up to standing.

“Okay, now lie back.” His hands held me up. “And relax. You'll float. I promise. And even if you don't, I've got you.”

My arms and legs felt stiff. I held my breath, tight, in case I sunk.

“You're not relaxed.”

“I can't. I'm going to drown.” I was scared the water would pull me down.

“I won't let you drown. Stop holding your breath. You can't relax if you aren't breathing. Close your eyes. Do you hear that? Frogs. Remember us winning the Frog-Jumping Contest?” I could hear them croaking even with my ears underwater, and the more I thought about them, the less I felt like I would be pulled down.

“Notice anything different? Anything missing?”

Luke's hands. They weren't on my back anymore! My butt instantly plunged deep underwater, pulling my legs, arms, and head with it.

I didn't get a breath.

Slimy lake weeds drifted like little fingers against my thighs. Grabbing at me. Trying to keep me underwater.

I'm sure I screamed.

My feet found the bottom. I pushed up.

There they were again: Luke's hands looped under my armpits. He stood me up on both feet.

“Clare? You okay?” Luke hunkered over me, pushing hair from my eyes.

I was coughing so hard, I thought my heart might fly out and land onshore.

“Get it out, Clare. Get the water out.” He smacked my back, hard.

“Why”—
cough
—“did”—
cough, cough
—“you let go?” I sputtered, gasping, pushing him away.

“Because. You were doing it! All by yourself. Just floating along without me.” Luke smiled wide. “You can float!”

I could? I could. Wow. I'd been floating. All by myself.

“Hey, next time, don't try to sit up. It doesn't work that way. Ready to try again? By the time I'm done teaching you, you'll be fast like a shark! Best swimmer of all time!” He raised one of my arms high above my head.

Then I was back on the water with Luke's hands securely below me, looking up at the sky and listening to the frogs, I felt his hands slip away. And this time I didn't sink.

I pedal across town on Bike-a-saurus. Maybe I should ask for a real bike for Christmas this year. If this thing wasn't way too small for me and the rust patches weren't turning the green paint into some kind of toxic camouflage, it might actually be enjoyable to ride the mile and a half to the lake. But it doesn't matter—I will be driving to work in just six more days.

When I arrive at the lake, I'm surprised to see a car in the lot. Mandy's. At seven forty-five a.m., I'm usually the only one there, except the week when Ryan showed up early to paddle. Why would Mandy be here this early?

She's got her camera on a tripod and, with the lake in the background, has set up some bikini photo shoot for herself. She's leaning across a large rock, her head back, long red hair grazing the sand, her mouth open in a stupid fake laugh. She runs behind the lens, pushes buttons before taking another pose, crawling like a cheetah toward the camera, twisting her face into some sort of sexy growl. She runs back. Pushes buttons, readjusts. This time she's close to the camera, her lips in a pout. Could she possibly be more egocentric?

I toss my bag down, strip to my bathing suit, and dive into the cold water. Why do I have to share
my
quiet time in
my
lake with Mandy?

After my first lap I notice the camera has turned and the lens is now on me. What the hell is she doing? Probably taking pictures for her dartboard or to burn in some private popular-girl voodoo ceremony. I can't keep swimming knowing she's taking pictures, so I dive underwater and stay under for as long as possible. Popping up next to my bag, I jump out and wrap my towel around myself before she can snap another photo. I grab my stuff and disappear behind the Snack Shack. Part of me wants to confront her and demand that she erase the photos. But what good would that do? She won't erase them. It'd just be another argument with Mandy. Another confrontation. Another bout of her and the Cranberry Hill girls talking, pointing, glaring at me. I'd rather just hide.

•  •  •

By eight thirty a.m. I'm in my lifeguard chair, watching Mandy, who's still snapping pictures of anyone and everyone. If she weren't so positively evil, I might be curious enough to ask why.

Drea should be here at some point today. She doesn't even know that Luke is home yet. None of my friends do. At least I don't think they do. But, then again, word travels fast around here.

Around eleven a.m. my friends start to show up, plopping down on the grass next to the lifeguard stand. First Drea. “He's back? What happened to his job and staying with a friend?” Then Omar. “You
finished
all
your AP English assignments. And the history ones too! Man, I am sooo jealous!” Then Chase. And Skye. “Why is Mandy going cuckoo crazy with the camera? It's like she suddenly has a goal other than shopping.” And Lala. “I have this new boy. I know it's early, but it might be serious.” And then Luke.

Luke. Followed closely by Skeleton in sunglasses, matching his swagger, step by step. Why did he have to come here?

Luke takes a seat in the middle of my group of friends, removing his black T-shirt to reveal his defined muscles and tattooed arms, the Virgin Mary on his left, a long cobra wrapped around his right, both all blue with wavy freehand lines. His arms and chest ripple as he tosses his shirt to the side. My brother, the incredible hulk, just released from prison. I feel awful, but I can't help thinking it: Could he look more stereotypical? Skeleton shrugs, flexes, and points to his humerus, is disappointed when the bone doesn't bulge.

“Clare, do you have sunscreen?” Luke asks. “I don't wanna burn.” My heart drops. He's planning to stay for a while. I mean, I want to see him. I'm happy he's home. But there are so many people around to stare at us, even the kids, their little curious minds trying to figure out why all attention has zeroed in on Luke and me. Reluctantly I open my bag and hand the sunscreen down to him.

My friends are uncomfortable. Their normal banter is replaced by self-conscious stand-alone comments. They even start talking about the weather.

“God, it's hot.” Chase.

“Must be close to a hundred.” Skye.

“Man, I am sweaty.” Omar.

Leave, Luke. Go home. No. Wait. I want him to be here, but only if he can blend in. Only if no one is looking at him like—well, like he's a criminal.

Instead of Luke leaving, my friends decide to take off. Chase and Skye lead the exit. After only five minutes of Luke and the stares, Chase says, “Tennis match?”

Followed by Skye's, “Anyone else in?”

Omar immediately replies, “I would love to have my butt kicked.”

And Lala says, “Sure. If you can teach me how to hold a racket.”

Which leaves Drea, and me, and Luke. And, of course, Skeleton. Luke lies back on the grass. Skeleton relaxes next to him.

We're quiet for a few moments. The silence makes the glares feel so much heavier that I have to try to start a conversation. “So how's the job hunt going?” I ask Luke.

“There's a construction site on Orange Avenue. I talked to the general contractor, and he said to show up tomorrow morning. They need some extra hands pouring the foundation. I've done that a few times before.”

“So it's a new site?” I say, getting a little hopeful. “Maybe they'll have other jobs for you to do.”

“I prove something tomorrow, I might be in for the whole build.” Luke closes his eyes.

It was weird tiptoeing past Luke sleeping this morning. Impossible trying to crunch my cereal quietly. Mom
offered Peter's bottom bunk bed, but Luke insisted on the couch. “I'm easy, Ma. Not here to make anyone uncomfortable. Besides, I like how the living room feels open. Bunk beds are too . . . cramped.” It made me realize that he'd slept on a bunk bed in his cell. It'll take a bit, getting used to him being here, always around, but I'd rather have him sleep on the couch than feel like home reminds him of prison. If he likes how open the living room feels, he must love napping out here in the sun. I instantly feel guilty that I wished he hadn't come here.

It
is
really hot today. I wipe sweat off with a towel, then reapply sunscreen. After I finish rubbing it in, I step down off the lifeguard chair and stick my feet into the water in a desperate attempt to cool off. Wisps of hair that refused to go into my ponytail stick to my neck. Drea gives up and jumps into the lake, takes a dive just past the buoy that marks the deep end and swims out toward the island. As I watch her tread water, too far away to talk to, I know it's not the heat that has driven her away from me.

I plunge my hand into the icy water, rub and drip it across my neck. It feels so good.

My body can't take it anymore. I scan the lake to make sure everyone is safe, then quickly jump into the water, dunking my whole head. It is instantly satisfying. My temperature drops a few degrees.

As I jump back up onto the lifeguard stand, I spy Mandy lying belly-down like a snake in the grass, twenty feet away and armed with a zoom camera, snapping
shots again in our direction. I want to grab her stupid camera and throw it into the deepest part of the lake.

Luke wakes up forty-five minutes later. He pulls his shirt back on, looks at the watch on his arm. I recognize it as my dad's. He must be borrowing it. I think. I hope.

“Gotta go, Squeaks,” he says, stretching his arms up to the sky. “Home for a bit. Then I'm meeting a friend. See ya.” At the word “friend” I can't help but tense up, thinking of Dan in the woods. Is that who he's going to see?

Drea reappears as soon as Luke and Skeleton leave. We banter about her college tour, all the planning that has gone into it. The supercheesy tourist stuff she can't wait to see as they drive from one school to the next. But I'm having a hard time concentrating on what she's saying. I can't stop looking around, catching people's eyes before they quickly look away. Am I imagining it? Or is everyone
still
staring at me?