Learning Not to Drown

by Anna Shinoda

  “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 few moments. The silence make 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 a few 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?

  When my shift is up, instead of staying for my built-in hour, I choose to go home. Far away from curious eyes and Mandy’s lens. Even far away from Drea.

  Riding Bike-a-saurus Hex home, I’m pushing the pedals as hard as I can, trying to create some kind of breeze that will wash the weird uncomfortable feelings of the day away, when I hear a beep, beep behind me.

  I feel like a complete idiot for several reasons. One— because when the horn honked, I jumped. Not a little jump, a big jump. Like a murderer had lunged out from behind a tree with an axe.

  Two—because my knees graze the handlebars when I pedal, and my legs are locked in bent position. A clown on a three-year-old’s bike possibly looks more graceful than I do.

  And three—because the person honking at me is Ryan.

  “Hey, you’re back!” I say between breaths.

  “Just got home today. Need a lift?” He’s amused.

  “Okay, but only if you laugh at my current mode of transportation.” Maybe this is too funny to feel embarrassed.

  “Should I even ask why you are riding this thing?” he asks as he throws my bike into the back of his truck.

  “I’m still grounded.” I’m red. Bright red. I can feel it, almost see it beaming from my cheeks. We jump into the cab, and he starts to drive.

  “Your parents must be really strict,” he says. Ryan smells like summer: sunblock, sweat, and some kind of cologne. I lean back against the seat, breathe in deep, and start to relax. He looks even better with a tan and his messy hair full of sun highlights.

  “How was Venice?” I ask, allowing myself to admit I really missed our mornings on the lake together.

  “It was pretty awesome. A good warm-up for Seven Sisters.”

  “How long are you home for?” I ask him.

  “Three days, and then I take off again for Mexico. This is your place on the left, right?” Are we really almost to my house?

  “Yep,” I say. Whether it’s an advantage or not, everyone in a small town knows where everyone else lives.

  He gets out of the truck and hands me Bike-a-saurus.

  Mrs. Brachett peeks out her window. A second later she is in her yard, trimming a bush that she just trimmed yesterday. Might as well figure that she’s going to give a full report of this conversation to Mom. Luckily, rides home from work are approved, even when grounded.

  “I think I like the rust stains the best. How ’bout you, Clare?”

  “The streamer barely holding on to the handlebars,” I say. Ryan’s hand grazes mine; his body leans in close. Is he flirting? A quick vision of Mandy’s face pops into my head. I am just friends with Ryan. Friends. As in, I am not stealing him from Mandy because we are just friends.

  His thumb brushes against my ear as he tucks back a stray hair.

  If I were brave, daring, or Lala, I’d lean in for a kiss. But I’m not. I’m plain-scared Clare. And besides, I’m not the type of girl to kiss a guy who has a girlfriend. That’s tacky. And slutty. And stealing. Besides. Ryan shouldn’t be flirting with me if he is with Mandy. That’s tacky. And slutty. And cheating.

  I take a step back, just as I hear a throat clear behind me.

  It’s Luke.

  “Hey, Clare.” He crosses his arms, looking Ryan from head to toe. Luke has at least two inches on Ryan. Maybe three. “Who’s your friend?”

  As I introduce the two of them, I see Ryan shift from one leg to the other, his eyes alert but lacking that glare of judgment I see in most people when they see Luke. “You know my little sis is one of the sweetest, smartest girls alive,” Luke says.

  “You’re totally right. A
nd you left out ‘athletic.’ If I get her out in the ocean, she’s going to rip.” Ryan’s hazel eyes light up.

  “Oh, yeah? Teaching her to surf?” Luke asks. “If she’ll let me,” Ryan says. “You surf?”

  “No, I don’t trust the ocean. Too much you can’t see, know what I mean?” Luke says. “Clare is the most important thing in the world to me. You take her out on the ocean, you make sure she’s safe. She gets hurt in any way, I will hold you responsible.”

  Skeleton jumps from the trees above. He starts to circle the three of us. With his big toe bone he draws a stick figure of Ryan in the dirt, then stomps on it.

  I watch Ryan’s tan face go pale.

  This needs to stop. I need words. The right words. “Ugh. Luke,” I protest. “You sound worse than Mom and Dad. You must be getting old.” I force out a laugh that thankfully sounds more natural than I expected. “Ouch,” Luke says, uncrossing his arms and letting them drop to his side. “Alright. I’ve got to get my old ass to my buddy’s house. Clare, let Mom know I’ll be back by dinner. Ryan, don’t get eaten by a shark.” He looks next door. Rolling his eyes, he says, “Mrs. Brachett, tell my parents I say hi when you report to them.” Her eyelids turn to slits as her lips pucker. Then she goes back to pretending to trim.

  “I’d better jet too,” Ryan says. “Luke.” He gives a nod. “Clare, see ya later.”

  As I watch Luke walk away in one direction, Ryan drive in the other, I feel a moment of fury at Luke. Still, it seems like Luke’s comment didn’t do too much damage. Then I remember the way Ryan looked at me, how his thumb felt brushing the hair behind my ear. Maybe he was flirting. Maybe he wasn’t. Either way, I wish he were single, so my only concern would be if he likes me or not, instead of worrying, worrying, worrying that he might be a jerk who cheats. And, worse, that I might be a person who steals.

  The next night, Luke comes home from work around six p.m. with cement crusted along the tips of his fingers, under his nails. He worked today. “But only today,” he tells us dejectedly. “We finished pouring the foundation. But the boss has enough workers until they get into finishing work. Painting and stuff. He says to come back in a month to check in on things.” Luke picks at the cement under his nails. “He didn’t have any other job leads. It’s gonna be tough finding something here.” He sits down on the couch and scrapes at the cement on his hands, letting the gray flakes fall to the carpet. “But I’ll find something.” He smiles up at Mom and me, our brows equally furrowed. “Don’t worry.”

  “A mother,” Mom says, leaning forward as she plants a kiss on his forehead, “never worries too much about her children.” Then she surprises me, putting her hand on my shoulder and placing her lips to my forehead too.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  “That’s for me. I’m grabbing dinner with a friend,” Luke says, hopping off the couch. Mom and I both crane our necks to see who it is. Through the glass we can make out the unmistakably skeletal outline of Dan. I am positive that Mom’s heart drops as quickly as mine does.

  Chapter 20

  Two Stories, One Truth

  THEN: Age Eleven

  Mr. Jerkland was pounding on the front door. “My DVD player is missing!” he exclaimed angrily as

  Mom opened it.

  “I don’t know what that has to do with us,” she said,

  her body blocking the entrance. Scrubbing the front

  windows with an old rag, my hand slowed as I listened. “My kitchen window is smashed in and my DVD

  player is stolen! And guess what? Mrs. Brachett saw one

  of your good-for-nothing boys sneaking back inside

  your house with my DVD player in his hands.” His

  beard shook with each word. I stopped scrubbing. “Mr. Kirkland! This is ridiculous. Ever since that

  misunderstanding about that silly statue, you’ve been

  blaming my son for everything! That was over three

  years ago!” Mom started to close the door. “We are

  done here.”

  Jerkland put his foot squarely against the door,

  blocking her from slamming it.“Misunderstanding!”

  he said, his arms flying. “Your son stole my duck statue

  and gave it to you as a Mother’s Day present!” Luke had told us he’d bought the duck at a garden store and that it had cost twenty dollars. Peter and I had each given him five dollars to pitch in for the gift. Mom had returned the duck to Mr. Kirkland. Luke had

  forgtten to give us our money back.

  “I will not be yelled at in my own home.” Mom

  pushed on the door with both hands. Jerkland’s foot

  held it open.

  “Then step outside.” His lips disappeared under his

  mustache.

  Mom’s mouth dropped open. Speechless. “Now you listen here,” Jerkland said. “I don’t want

  to deal with a police report over this, but I will if I have

  to! I’m getting an estimate to have the window fixed

  tomorrow. You’ll be receiving the bill. And the one for

  a new DVD player if it’s not returned immediately.” He

  pulled his foot out of the door, turned, and marched

  away.

  “Well, I never!” Mom yelled. Then, looking up, she

  realized I was there. “Are you eavesdropping? Get back

  to work, young lady.”

  My hand started spinning in quick circles. I wanted

  to make the windows shine so much that Mom forgot all

  about Mr. Kirkland.

  When I was done, I grabbed Mom’s hand and pulled

  her to the entryway.

  “Ta-da!” I said, pointing to the spotless windows. “Very nice, Clare Bear,” Mom said. I beamed, until

  she added, “Do you think you can make your room

  windows look like that?”

  I sighed. More work.

  “Do I have to?” I asked.

  “Idle hands . . .”

  “I know, I know.” I really didn’t want to clean more

  windows. Then I had an idea. “Wait, Mom! What if I

  knit something instead?”

  “Okay for today,” she agreed. “Tomorrow clean your

  room windows.”

  I had to eavesdrop again that night when Luke got

  home. Drea and I had made guesses on what we thought

  had happened. Drea thought Peter was guilty but

  changed her mind when I told her he had a strong alibi.

  He had been camping all week with friends in Arizona.

  I was sure Mr. Kirkland and Mrs. Brachett had some

  sort of secret plan to get cash and a new DVD player.

  With my ear pressed against the crack of my door, I listened to the whole conversation.

  “Ma! It wasn’t me,” Luke said. “I swear!”

  “Mrs. Brachett said it was either you or Peter. And

  considering how much trouble you’ve gotten into, I

  thought I’d start with you,” Mom said.

  “You’re trusting Mrs. Brachett as an eyewitness?

  She’s practically blind.”

  “She does have some vision problems,” Mom conceded.

  “Come on, Ma. You know I’m working a good job.

  I don’t need to take a worthless DVD player for cash.

  I’m clean, and I’m not about to screw things up again. I

  didn’t do it,” he said. “You believe me, right?” Mom sighed. Paused. “Yes, I suppose.”

  A few days later Mr. Jerkland showed up at our door. Mom handed him cash. Did that mean she didn’t believe Luke? Or she didn’t want police asking questions? Was she afraid that Luke could go to jail again, even if he really hadn’t stolen the DVD player?

  The answers to those questions really didn’t matter. I was glad she paid Mr. Kirkland. Glad that the police weren’t going to get involved. Because that meant that Luke could be with us for longer. Even if i
t was just a little bit longer. It was worth it.

  Chapter 21

  Family Dinner

  NOW

  As we gather around the dinner table, all I can think is, Four more days. Four more days of Mom’s hard labor. Four more days and I get my cell phone back and I can watch TV and I can use the computer and I can drive. I want to burn Bike-a-saurus at the end of it all to celebrate.

  “You’ll never guess what I picked up today,” Dad tells us, pulling his chair to the table. “Anyone?”

  Silence.

  “Raccoon. A poor shot didn’t kill it. So the animal dragged itself under a porch to die in peace. Then along comes little Kimmie Walker, playing house out in her yard. She got her blankets all hung up under the porch before turning to find herself face-to-face with this halfdead raccoon. When I got there, she was still screaming and carrying on. That Walker family spoils her, if you ask me. It was no big deal. There was blood, but she couldn’t even see the hole in the belly where the shot went in. The raccoon hissed at me when I walked up. Of course I had to go and put it out of its misery.” He shoves a forkful of red meatballs into his mouth. Chews loudly.

  “Dad! That’s disgusting!” Now I can’t even look at my own plate. Outside, the sky has turned from light blue to thunderstorm gray. A few raindrops hit the window.

  “Can’t you think of anything else to talk about at dinner?” Before he can answer, Mom cuts in, “I have news. Clare, Luke, what do you think about the three of us going to Tennessee to visit Grandma in two weeks? We’ll be staying there till mid-August.”

  “What?” I drop my fork. I want to see Granny, but not now. In four days I won’t be grounded anymore. I can actually hang out with my friends, not just at the lake. Movies. Bowling. A trip to the beach.

  “That’s great, Ma,” Luke says. “But I’ll have to check in with my PO to make sure it’s okay.”