Zee stops directly in front of me. His hands are clenched. “Seriously?” he says. “You’re hooking up with Casper?”
The breath I was holding whooshes out. “Whaa?” I manage.
“Casper Cooper uses girls, Sam. He chews them up and spits them out when he’s finished.”
I have an image of Casper biting off my head and nervously laugh. Zee frowns and pushes back his floppy hair.
“We’re working together on the English assignment.” I blow my braid out of my eyes. “He’s smart,” I add. As if that matters.
“You were working on an English assignment on Friday night?”
My mind immediately conjures up memories of Casper kissing me. I push the images away, wondering how Zee even knows about Friday night. He certainly didn’t when we ran into each other Saturday afternoon. Someone told him after that.
“I never said I was an exciting person. Doing homework on the weekend is not out of the ordinary for me.” I slam my locker a little too hard, and it bangs. Nearby, a girl giggles and whispers something to her friend. They’re leaning against a locker opposite mine, surrounded by guys.
“Well. It is for Casper. No matter how smart he is.” Zee stares at me, and the flashing emotion in his eyes muddles his anger.
“You plan on coming back?” He scowls at me and cracks out his knuckle.
His negative energy seeps into me. “Why do you care?”
“Clair asked me to talk to you,” he spits out. “This morning at five o’clock. At practice. The one you didn’t bother to show up for. Again.”
I spin around and start walking away from him, but he’s on my heels. “She’s worried about you. You’re missing out on the chance of a lifetime if you stay out much longer. The finals are only weeks away, and you’re going to be out of shape. Even if you are running. It’s not the same. You need to swim.”
I walk faster. “No. I don’t.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop. “You need to come back.”
I try to shake his arm off me, but he holds tight.
“I can’t.”
“Why? Is there lead in your ass? You suddenly allergic to chlorine? What’s stopping you?” He squeezes my arm a little harder and it pinches, but I don’t flinch.
A freshman walks by, trying not to look like she’s witnessing prime gossip and taking mental notes to deliver to her friends.
He lets go of my arm and I automatically rub where he was pressing.
“It’s not just about you, Sam. The Titans need you to help us win our division. This is the first year we can actually do it.” His deep voice growls. “Clair deserves it. She’s the best coach in the state, and she should get this. But she needs you back.” My face turns red, but I don’t answer him.
I glance around the hallway, looking for someone to save me, but there’s no friendly face. No one in this school is going to run to rescue me. Taylor’s my main ally, and I’ve hardly talked to her. Who knows, maybe she’s pissed with me for not coming back too. I’m letting the team down. I want to help Clair. But it’s not like I have a choice. Not really.
Zee’s lips turn into a snarl. “You afraid? I thought you were tougher than that. I didn’t know you were a quitter.”
“It’s not that,” my voice snaps with anger.
“Then what is it?” Zee’s upper lip turns up in a sneer.
I glance straight into his dark, storming eyes. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, and his lips quiver. “I do.”
“Fine.” I take a deep breath. “Alex won’t ever get a baseball scholarship, will he?”
Zee’s angry expression changes to disbelief.
“So why should I get my chance? Why should I swim and keep on with my life when he can’t do the same?”
Zee’s swagger deflates. My heart hurts for putting that look on his face.
“What,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, “is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Why should I go after my dreams, when Alex can’t go after his?”
Zee opens his mouth. Shuts it. “Alex wasn’t like that,” he says, his voice low. Almost hollow. “He would never have wanted anyone to punish you.” He drags a knuckle back and forth over his eyebrow. “Not even yourself.”
He turns abruptly to leave, stops, and then turns back. “And so you know, Casper’s not as nice as he pretends to be.” He stomps away and disappears around a corner.
I stare at the empty space, wondering how we got here.
“Hmm,” a voice says. “Zee doesn’t like you much, does he?” Kaitlin steps up beside me in high boots and a short skirt that show off model-worthy legs. She’s got a smile on her face, and she blinks slowly and opens her eyes wider. “Too bad. I know you have a crush on him.”
She holds up her hand and inspects her nails. She’s got a perfect-looking manicure with pink nail polish to finish it off. “Too bad you killed his best friend. Not exactly the best way to get on a boy’s good side.”
A surge of anger gets the best of me. Who says things like that to people? “Shut up, Kaitlin,” I growl.
She laughs as she walks away. “I heard you were much sweeter when everyone thought you were a lesbian.” Her leather boots clack along on the tile floor and I wonder how she heard, but the swim community is small. And she knows lots of swimmers. My hands shake from the confrontation, and my stomach flops like a dying fish.
“Everything okay?” asks a voice.
I turn the opposite way and see Casper. Great.
“You look upset,” he says. “Kaitlin being her usual self?”
“It’s nothing,” I tell him. “She heard the old rumor about me.”
“That you’re a lesbian? Well, we’ve proved that wrong, right?” He bumps my shoulder with his, but I step away from him.
Casper puts a hand on my arm. “Hey? You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Ouch,” he says. “Never trust a woman who says ‘fine.’”
I pretend to smile. “She just said some really ignorant things about me and Zee.”
“She’s jealous. She knows you’re friends from swimming.”
“Were friends,” I correct him.
He nods, and it breaks my heart that he agrees with me. “You know how they talk about girls with daddy complexes in psychology?” Before I can answer, he continues.
“Kaitlin is a classic example. She’s damaged. She chases boys who clearly aren’t interested in her. Stalks, really. Her dad is an asshole. Belittles her. She cries about it when she’s had too much to drink. It’s kind of sad. She’s focused on Zee right now. But trust me. I’ve been in his shoes. She gets kind of crazy.”
He waits for me to start walking, and it’s obvious he’s planning on going to class with me, so I start moving. I want to feel sorry for Kaitlin, but it’s hard.
“Speaking of Zee. I saw him at the school yard on Saturday. He was doing some dangerous stuff,” I tell him.
Casper shrugs. “Zee always does dangerous stuff.”
“But this was pretty risky. It looked like he was taking real chances. Like he could have hurt himself. You know. Badly.”
“That’s just Zee, Sam. He’s nuts.”
I wonder. I never saw nuts in the pool. I saw dedicated. Focused. I can’t imagine him being much different in Parkour.
“Maybe you should talk to him.” We turn a corner, and a new wave of students heads for us. We both dodge out of the way.
“We aren’t talking much lately,” he tells me.
I glance at him, surprised. “I thought you were friends?”
Casper lifts a shoulder and waves at someone down the hall turning into our class. “We were friends because of Alex. With him gone, it’s complicated.
I frown. “I don’t know much about his reputation.” These two guys each seem convinced that the other is a bad ass.
“Come on. Zee didn’t make moves on you?”
I have an urge to punch him in the arm. I want him to be quiet. To shut the hell up. I develop an interest in my braid, winding it around my finger, stroking the smoothness, making sure the elastic is secure and intact. “It’s natural that Zee is hanging out with Chloe,” I remind him. “You shouldn’t worry. It’s possible for boys and girls to be friends, you know.”
“It is not.”
I frown. “Of course it is.”
“Well. He better not hurt her is all.” We pass a group of girls huddled around the water fountain, and they narrow their eyes at me but call out hello to Casper. He waves, then he places his hand on my back as we reach the classroom and pushes me through the doorway first. No one looks surprised when the two of us stroll in together. No one calls me a name. They keep talking or texting, ignoring me. Some of them wave or say hey to Casper, but it’s like I’m not even there.
“Our essay is awesome,” Casper says loudly as we head to our seats. His voice is friendly. There’s nothing in his inflection to give away that we were swapping spit doing our “awesome” assignment.
“Everyone knows you’re friggin’ brilliant,” calls a girl in the front of our row. She stares at me. I have no idea who she is.
“Whatever it takes to get the best grade.” He grins a lopsided grin at her. “You know it, Callie.”
She raises her middle finger at him and turns back to her notebook. I slide into my desk. Casper slides in behind me.
“Callie Zibler,” he says under his breath. “She’s pissed off because in the past I used to work with her. But I’ll get a better grade with you.”
Cold.
I glance up at Callie, but she’s paying no attention to me. As if I need to give anyone another reason to hate me.
Zee’s seat is empty. Kaitlin turns her back to me, then leans forward to the girl in front of her, and they both turn and glare at me. I try to imagine her crying over her dad, but it’s not easy to imagine her with real emotions.
The bell rings, and phones get shoved away so they won’t be confiscated. Mr. Duffield, who has been quietly lurking at his desk in the corner, stands to start the class. Zee’s seat stays empty.
***
Later, I’m walking down the hall with my eyes cast down when a noticeable hush falls and people step out of my way. I glance up and spot Chloe. We see each other at the same time and lower our eyes simultaneously. I wish I could disappear instead of being a constant reminder to her of what she lost. How can I justify rubbing my existence in her face? I know I should reconsider homeschooling.
A friend uses her body to shield Chloe from me, and they veer off and walk away in a big circle. My heart races like I’ve just finished a sprint. I wonder how Chloe manages to go on with day-to-day stuff with the threat of seeing me around every corner. I hope her friends are helping her.
She’s an only child now. Like me.
Taylor swings up behind me and latches her arm around my elbow. I do my best to smile at her.
“Hey, friend,” she says.
I think about how she was the fastest breaststroker on the team until I showed up. Instead of being pissed off, she told me she improved her times after I joined the team. I lean close to her and soak up some of her body heat and feel ashamed for the times being around her made me turn an unattractive shade of green. And not from the chlorine in the pool. She’s a true friend. Better than any I’ve had before.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whisper to her.
“You don’t have to find out,” she says.
“You’re my real-life angel.” She gives me a funny side-eye, but pats my arm.
chapter fourteen
When I get home from school, Aunt Allie and Fredrick are out and Dad is still at work. Instead of being enjoyable, the solitude only exaggerates my isolation and boredom without swimming. I glance at the clock on the wall, but I know the Titans will already be pulling through their first sets. It’s a double day. Early-morning and after-school swim.
My bones ache from underuse. My muscles crave the water. I debate with myself and decide it’s okay to go for a run to release some of my tension. As I head to my room to change, my cell phone cheers to let me know I’ve gotten a text. I pull my phone from my backpack and glance down.
Casper: Parents are out. Can u come over?
I stare down at the screen. It cheers again while I’m watching.
Casper: We can work on our assignment.
I stare for another long moment. It’s not due for a week.
When? I text back, instead of No, like I should.
Casper: Now.
I wait before I type an answer. Is this what I want? Casper?
I don’t even know what I want, but my brain automatically supplies an answer: to forget.
Okay. I’ll be right over.
***
Casper gently runs his finger along my cheek. We’re sitting side by side on his huge bed with books and laptops around us. I’m cross-legged, a pencil in my mouth, thinking about the modern implications of a totalitarian society. I glance up when he touches me.
“I love watching you work.” The flirty tone is back in his voice. I lean away a little, not sure of what to say or do.
Until that moment, we were all business. I’d been sure I’d imagined our last time together and that the kissing must have been an anomaly. We’ve worked hard for almost two hours.
“I’m kind of sad we’re almost done,” he says, and his grin is lazy and sure. “I like your brain.”
He should talk. The boy has mad brains; I’ll say that for him. He’s right about the A-plus we’re going to get. We’ve argued and philosophized and come up with amazing arguments for our paper. All we have to do is transfer everything to our computers and proof our respective pages.
There’s a knock at the door, and Casper jumps to his feet, his eyes wide and almost frightened. “What?” he calls.
“You need anything? I’m heading out.” It’s Theresa’s voice from the hallway. I wonder if she has snacks. I hate to admit it, but I’m starving. The bottomless pit has apparently reopened for business.
“You scared the shit out of me. I didn’t know you were home,” he tells her. “We’re working on our assignment.” He sits on the edge of his bed, his back straight.
She pops her head in the door. No snacks. “I’m going out,” she says. She doesn’t say hi to me.
“I thought you were out,” he says. “Where you going now?”
“Out, Casper,” she says and closes the door. Her footsteps move loudly away from the door, down the hallway and then the stairs.
Casper stares at the door for a moment, his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed together. Then he turns back to me and his expression completely changes.
He scoots his butt closer, puts his hand on my shoulder, and presses his mouth to my ear. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you got here.”
All righty then. He could have fooled me, but I guess it wasn’t such an anomaly after all. I have no idea how to read boys.
He kisses my ear lobe, and shivers tread over my skin. Heat flows and temporarily melts my icy insides, but my brain stays frozen and words won’t form. I have no idea what to say, so I shut my eyes as his tongue flickers out and gently nips at my ear. I tilt my head closer to him, and the pencil falls from my mouth and plops onto my lap. With a sudden boldness, I turn and press against him and find his lips
with my own.
This, this takes away some of the emptiness. My head fills with nothing but sensation, and it helps me forget everything else.
He pulls his head away from me and I try to reclaim him, but he moves away. He carefully takes the books and computers off the bed and carts them to the coffee table. I wait, too shy to say or do anything but watch. He finally crawls back on the bed beside me. “Lie back,” he says. As if I have no will of my own, I lower my back onto his bed. He leans over me and takes my braid in his hand. “I love this,” he says and pushes it behind my ear. “So sexy. So hot.”
He presses his lips on my neck. His hand wanders, and I inhale and hold my breath, almost squeaking when he runs his fingers over my shirt, over my bra. Warning bells fire from my brain, alarms sound off, and I wonder why he can’t hear them. I squeeze my eyes shut and ignore them. I accepted his invitation. Now it’s time to go through with it.
His other hand reaches under my shirt, and my fogged brain kind of registers that he’s pushing forward quickly, but I force myself to relax. This is what I want. To forget.
I breathe a little faster, trying to downplay the panic, when he reaches around my back and expertly unhooks my bra. I want to hold it in place, but his hand reaches up and scoots under the material, and he touches me for the first time on the skin. Right on my boob. I fight off an urge to giggle. The sexiness is kind of evaporating as I analyze his moves, calculate his next step. As I suspected, his other hand reaches for the button on my jeans and his lips reclaim mine. I cringe. No. I want to do this. I want to be his girlfriend. I’m out of the gay closet. This is what seventeen-year-old girls do. They’re not lame virgins who have been too busy breaststroking in the water to get any breast-stroking out of the water.
Gross. Even when I try to be flippant about sex in my head, it’s an epic fail. I pull my head back from his and stop kissing him. He moves his lips back to my neck, but the feeling is no longer pleasurable. It feels like he’s suffocating me. I picture Alex’s face as he tried to get his breath.
I use both hands to push him away, and he struggles for a second, groans, and then collapses against the pillows behind him.
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