by Shay Bravo
“You sure act like I do. But that’s partially my fault, I guess.” He gives a short tilt of his head. “I’ll catch you later, Sol.”
Ethan doesn’t have a jump to his step as he walks away like Scott did, and yet he stands out from the other few students who are at the small tables in the lobby of the building. Maybe it’s his height, or his forest-green hoodie, but I follow him with my eyes until he’s out of the building.
Me: Heyy
Ethan: Yes?
Me: I don’t wanna bother you
Ethan: It’s not a bother
Me: Let me finish
Ethan: Sure go ahead
Me: I don’t wanna be a bother but like Main Street is farther away than I thought . . .
Ethan: I told you it was
Me: Ethan I’m TRYING to ask nicely
Ethan: You don’t have to ask nicely, just say it
I press a hand against my temple. He’s not going to make this easy at all.
Me: Can you
Me: you know
Me: give me a ride to that thing?
Ethan: Sure, where do I pick you up?
Why does he have to make things so simple? Do I like that? Yes, of course I do, but I don’t want to. By the time I had caught up with my class, shift, and homework, I realized it was too late to simply ride around town until I found the meeting place.
Where am I? I look around. After studying at the library for a couple of hours and not getting a response from Carlos, I walked around the school while wrestling with the idea of asking Ethan for a ride to the meeting. I’m by the mathematics building, and that’s close to Parking Lot C, so I text that and put my phone in my pocket. It buzzes.
Ethan: I’m close to where you’re at, give me like three minutes
Me: Ok
He wasn’t lying. Ethan pulls up in a shiny black Honda Accord moments later.
There’s a click as he opens the trunk and then takes out the previously mentioned rack. After closing the trunk, he sets up the rack while I get my bike from the building I was leaning it against, the full realization that I’m actually getting in his car hitting me now. I’m trying to grasp how we’ve come to this point in a couple of weeks. Time is an illusion. After securing my yellow bike to the back of his car, I climb in, mildly surprised at how clean the inside of his car is compared to Diane’s or Carlos’s. The dark leather seats and a single, dark-blue pine freshener make it look as sleek as his usual fashion style is.
“Please don’t kill me,” I say as he drives out of the parking lot.
Ethan laughs. “I’m a good driver, I promise.”
“I never said you weren’t, I asked you not to kill me.”
“Okay, I’ll try.”
Indie music is playing as we make our way to the motel, and I’m restraining myself from tapping my fingers or singing along. It’s like the time you go to your friend’s house for the first time and you’re trying not to reveal your inner weirdo.
“Why do you bike to school?” He puts the signal on and then turns onto a less busy street, the dying sun hitting his face from the side of my window.
I move back in my seat; he’s calm, and it’s nice to see. I’ve noticed his really nice features—in fact, if it wasn’t for the way we met, and we had had class together, I’m sure I’d be texting Diane or Carlos about him, like I would any cute guy or girl from whatever class the universe would have placed us in. Ethan’s cheekbones are high, and his nose is cute and wide. The way his glasses frame his features the right way makes me hold my answer until he looks my way at a stop sign.
“I like to save on gas.” It’s the most believable lie. What student wouldn’t like to save the fifty dollars they spend on gas a week? I don’t like opening up about my situation to other people; it’s too personal and feels like I’m asking for sympathy.
It works. He gets it, but that comment seemingly kills the conversation until Ethan pulls into the parking lot of Motel 6, a shady-looking building with a pool outside.
“Are you sure this is the right place?”
“I’m afraid it is.” Ethan takes off his seat belt. “Let’s hope they’re not pranking us and we came to this side of town for nothing.”
There aren’t many other people around as we approach the building. Anna said in the message they would be waiting for us at the back of the motel, but it’s hard to find the back since the building is surrounded by a parking lot.
“Don’t you think security will get suspicious of us?” I ask as we pass some bushes. “Hopefully they won’t call the cops.”
“Now you’re worried about that?”
We slow down as we hold each other’s gaze for a moment. “You could sound more concerned.”
“After spending some time with you, I feel like that word is not in your dictionary.”
“Concerned?”
“Yes, along with self-preservation and—”
“You guys made it here alive, I see.”
Carlos leans against the building, wearing a green and orange club-logo T-shirt and a pair of swim trunks. I march over to him and smack the side of his head.
“Ow, Sol!”
“That’s for not answering my messages.”
He covers the top of his head against my continuing assaults. “Anna told me not to!”
“Is Anna your mother?”
“No, pero you surely sound like it.”
I hit him again.
“Ay, I’m sorry, stop.”
“You’re not sorry.” Growing up with him has made me keen to when he’s actually apologizing or not, and him not answering my texts was totally a way to mess with me.
“I really am. Stop, you’re going to mess up my hair.” It’s only when it comes to his hair that he sounds apologetic.
“You two look like siblings,” Ethan says.
I look at him like he has just offended me and my entire line of ancestors.
“Oh my God, don’t say that.”
“It wouldn’t be that bad,” says Carlos.
“You really want me to beat you up, don’t you?”
“You know you love me too much to do that.” He takes my hand before I can do anything else, even if playful. “I couldn’t answer your messages. They made me put my phone away. I’m sorry. I’ll buy you ice cream later, I swear.”
“It’ll be a whole banana split this time, boy.”
“With extra sprinkles if you want.”
I step away from him, pushing my hair out of my field of view. I really wish I hadn’t gone crazy on Carlos in front of Ethan; now he must think I’m a psycho for reals.
“What is happening here?” Ethan asks as I step back and finally focus on the spot my friend is guarding.
Carlos is standing next to a fire exit propped open by a rock. “Nothing much, we’re throwing a small party for you right here, and the other newbies who decided to join the club. We have a contact on the hotel staff working today, and they pulled some strings so we have access to the pool all evening.”
“We didn’t bring swimsuits,” I say.
“She’s right.”
Carlos sighs, then pushes my shoulder toward the door.
“Go inside, room 154, and don’t bother the hotel staff. Anna will get you anything you need.”
It doesn’t take long to find the room as it’s only a couple of doors down from the fire exit. The carpet under our feet is an ugly dead green with some blue rhombuses that I stare at as I knock on the door.
“What’s the password?”
Ethan and I exchange a look.
“There’s a password?” he asks.
I perk up. “Cornbread!”
The door opens to reveal Anna in a black swimsuit and a red kimono.
“You got it. It’s always fun to see who remembers. Come inside, yo
u two.”
Inside are two beds I’m slightly scared of sitting on. The walls are gray-ish beige and the carpet is an extension of the one outside. Alan’s watching a random cooking show on the old TV in the corner. He is wearing a pair of swim shorts like Carlos was, except his are bright purple.
“I wanted to make this a surprise, so I didn’t tell anyone but you.” Anna points at me with a wink. “But I still got swimwear for everyone in case you forgot.”
She ushers us to the bed next to the window, where Scott is looking at a pair of trunks. He gives us a nod as a “hi again” before going back to his search. Spread out on the bed are a variety of swimsuits for men and women in different sizes.
“They are from Goodwill so don’t worry about the money, and I washed them last night, so no need to be scared. I used the sizes you guys provided for the club T-shirts to figure out what to buy, so if you find something you like, try it on.” She gestures to the dilapidated table in the corner, on top of which are a couple of chip bowls, salsa, cheese, and all that good munch-worthy kind of food. “We have some snacks and we’re going to wait a couple of minutes for the rest of the members before heading to the pool. You two make yourselves at home.”
“All of this is because of the new members?” Ethan asks, walking over to the bed and grabbing a pair of the swim trunks but showing the same distrust a child has of broccoli.
“Yes, and because we like to have fun,” Anna says, “you’re getting baptized into our cult today, Ethan. At the end we’re going to tell you what your sacrifice is going to be.”
“That’s a bit dark,” Scott interjects.
“Anna likes to make dark comments from time to time, you know that,” Alan says from his spot. “It’s her thing.”
“I’m not going to disagree with either of you.” Anna shrugs and picks a bottle of water up from the nightstand between the two beds. “You guys worry about finding something you like. The meeting will start soon.”
There is a large one-piece black swimsuit with white polka dots, and while the design is a bit dated, it appears to be close enough to my size to try on. Once it’s on, I feel comfortable enough to grab one of the towels provided for us and drape it over my shoulders.
Ethan and I make eye contact when I walk out of the bathroom. A pair of shorts hangs from the crook of his elbow, but we each turn the other way as I let him enter the bathroom so he can change out of his clothes.
Once more members arrive, Anna calls Carlos back in and we all head to the pool. The sun is already gone at this time of the evening in the middle of winter, but the weather is mild enough today that it doesn’t truly feel like the end of January. All there is to hope is that the water is heated enough so that we all don’t get hypothermia in the cool night.
A couple of tables and lounge chairs surround the pool, as well as a lifeguard chair and a single rescue buoy. A large sign behind the chair states the pool hours, and in bright bold letters says No Lifeguard on Duty. Swim at Your Own Risk.
“Everyone front and center!” Carlos calls out.
“The history club was founded by five Westray students thirty years ago.” Anna paces in front of the pool, the blue light from its water shining over the members. Surprisingly, no other guests of the hotel are out and about tonight. “They didn’t want something that would feel too formal as they were all friends. Of course, they wanted recognition and something they could proudly write home about.”
“Nothing very historical about it,” Ethan, who is standing right beside me, murmurs.
“But for people to become part of the club they had to do more than get a bunch of recommendation letters and have perfect academic records.”
“So they opted for breaking the law,” Ethan whispers.
I shush him with a look, and he shrugs. It’s kind of difficult being stern with him when he’s wearing swim trunks. The boy works out. His bicep game is strong—hell, his whole body game is strong, but I never noticed because he always has at least two layers on.
“While we already had our induction ceremony . . .”
I realize Anna has been talking while I was trying not to stare at Ethan.
“I thought it’d be fun to have a pool party to celebrate that we have all the members needed to keep the club afloat this semester.”
A round of applause is followed by her holding up her hands for silence.
“Please introduce yourself, your major, and what year you’re in, and then jump in the pool as we welcome you into the club. Once this is over, I’m going to give the newbies their assigned initiation dare and after that we can all go home. We have some floats here, and a couple of water guns, but we have to keep it down in case someone comes in.” She clears her throat, steps forward and shakes her shoulders. “I’m Anna Howard, the club president. This is my junior year in college, and I am an art major with a minor in history.”
Then she jumps and from what I can tell the water is colder than I thought because she emerges with a squeal that quickly turns into laughter before she shouts for someone to continue.
“I’m Scott Miller, a junior-year history major with a minor in architecture.” He takes a deep breath and jumps in, his long hair flying in the wind before he splashes into the water.
“I’m Carlos Oslo, engineering major and history minor and this lovely lady here is Soledad Gutierrez, a history major and political science minor, and we’re both freshmen.”
I whip around, panic rising up my throat as I see him running toward me, shades on, with no intention of slowing down. “Wait, Carlos, no—” His arms wrap around my waist and the next moment we’re submerged in icy-cold water. I push him away, kicking up until I’ve broken into the surface. “You jerk!”
Splashing water his way does nothing, Carlos doesn’t care, he’s laughing too hard and swimming away from me.
Ophelia, whose red hair fixed in a braid wound around her head like a crown, is the next one, followed by one of the new girls who says her name is Melina. Alan is next, and then after that the other two girls, who look nervous about the whole ordeal. Ethan nears the edge, hands balled up at his sides.
“My name is Ethan Winston, I am a junior with a physics major and a computer science minor, and I don’t know how to swim.”
I and a few others scream, “Wait!”
He looks directly at me, winks, and jumps in the water. After a second, he emerges, smiling. That makes me lose my train of thought more than seeing his biceps because I’m used to seeing him when he’s grumpy or serious.
“Hi, my name is Angela and I’m a freshman and a chemistry major with a minor in forensics.” She jumps in, followed by the last member, Xiuying, who quickly says she’s a freshman pre-med with a minor in business, and then covers her face before jumping in.
Once everyone is in the pool, it’s like a weird social seal is broken. It’s easier to talk to people when you’re in a certain environment. Being an introvert by nature, I swim to a place that is not too deep for me and hang. Anna gets out of the pool to put music on and throws some floats in for the members.
It’s relaxing watching other people interact, the way their facial expressions or body language changes. Like the way Mom would look at Dad when he didn’t notice, or how he’d lean toward her at the table after we were done eating. That’s why I love candid photos—people’s personalities really shine in them. Scott is shooting Alan with a water gun, Ophelia lies on top of one of the floaties, even though there is no sun to take, Carlos and Anna are going over something on her phone outside the pool, and the two new girls whose names I have already forgotten hang by a corner, talking to Melina.
“What are you thinking about?”
I blink, not realizing Ethan had made his way over to me. “About how people behave around other people.”
“Very psychological.”
“It’s a human thing, that’s all. We on
ly know what others are willing to show us.”
He moves closer to me, his steps slowed down by the water. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second before I look away.
“The way we talk to each other and act around each other varies depending on the situation,” I continue.
“Like when we first met versus right now?”
“Thanks for bringing up bad memories, but yes.” I sink into the water to keep my hair from drying up and becoming a human-size sponge. When I surface Ethan is still there, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks at me. “Why are you hanging around me? You should go meet the other club members.”
“I will, I was just checking on you.”
“Oh, I need to be checked on?”
Ethan sighs and moves away. “No, I was wondering why you were in a corner by yourself, you’re usually livelier. And after your friend tackled you into the water, I thought maybe you weren’t having so much of a great time.”
I pause. I’m fairly shy when it comes to large groups of people. Ethan has only seen me be extroverted, mainly because when I’m with him, it’s a one-to-one encounter.
“I am having a good time,” I assure him. “Are you?”
He studies me for a second, and smiles. I have the sudden urge to smile back.
“I am too.”
“Okay, people.” Anna gets closer to the pool, her black one-piece bathing suit contrasting with her hair. “Stay where you are, I have a few more announcements before we can relax and wrap things up in an hour or so.”
“She’s going to give us the assignments, isn’t she?” Ethan moves once again against the side of the pool next to me, our arms touching. I don’t move away.
“I think so,” I whisper back.
“I’m not giving details for what you guys are doing, that goes against the rules.” She walks over to a lounge chair where she had placed her bright-orange backpack. “For details you’re going to have to pick up one of these.” She holds up some envelopes with names written on them.
My instruction sheet included directions on how to enter the Winstons’ house from the back, which specific door the key provided would open, and a sloppy drawing of the floor plan of the first floor. Their tests are not about stealth or intelligence—they provide everything for you—they only want to know if you’re brave or stupid enough to go through with it.