Authors: Janette Rallison
I nodded at Mom. “I’m fine. Really.” She reached over and patted my hand. “I know you will be. Just remember, boys come and go. Sisters are forever.”
Jane swept into the room, walking by the kitchen table and scanning the counters. “Has anyone seen my chemistry folder? I left it on the coffee table and now it’s gone.”
I picked up my glass of milk and took a slow sip.
“Nope.”
She hurried out of the room, mumbling.
I ate my oatmeal. Mom watched me in silence. Finally she said, “Maybe after school the two of us can go out and do something. Would you like that?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
Jane came back into the room, this time with her hands on her hips. “My brown shoes are gone too. They were in my closet last night and now they’re not. What happened to them?”
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I took the last bite of my oatmeal and shrugged.
“Don’t know.”
She pulled her gaze from me and turned to Mom. “If I can’t find my brown shoes, I’m going to have to change my entire outfit. They’re the only shoes that match these pants.”
I stood up to take my bowl to the sink. “Don’t be too long. You know how Hunter hates to wait.” Then I left the room.
Okay, so it was slightly evil to hide her stuff, but considering all of the things I could have done, I figured she got off easy.
For the next week, I ignored Jane and Hunter the best I could and flirted with everyone on my possible-prom-dates-who-are-way-cooler-than-Hunter list.
I
had
thought attention from any of these guys would fill the hole that had been blasted in me when Hunter dumped me, but it only made things worse. One by one, they all asked other people to the dance.
On Saturday morning, Hunter came over to pick up Jane for some sort of date. I wasn’t sure of the details since I wasn’t on speaking terms with either of them anymore. The two of them discussed something in low voices in the living room, darting glances in my direction. I lay on the couch flipping through a magazine and trying to ignore them. This went on for a couple of minutes until finally Jane walked up to me. Hunter reluctantly trailed her. She nudged him and he spoke, “So, um, you know Tristan Hawkins from track?” I did know him, if you counted the three or four times we’d spoken over the last two years as knowing someone. He was the quiet type that just sort of faded into the background most of the time. True, he wasn’t bad looking, in a choir-boy sort of way. He had nice 48/431
features and pretty blue eyes. But he looked more like a freshman than a senior.
He probably would have been completely overlooked in high school if he wasn’t an extremely fast runner. This skill may have been acquired by running away from bullies during junior high. But at any rate, the track coach loved him.
I nodded, pretending it didn’t feel like swallowing splinters to look at Hunter.
“Well, I was talking to him the other day and he mentioned he wasn’t going to prom, but you know, he’d like to. And I told him you weren’t going with anyone—” I propped myself into sitting position. “Wait a minute, are you telling me you’re trying to set me up with Tristan?”
Jane and Hunter exchanged a glance. She said, “Well, you already have a dress and it would be a shame not to wear it.”
I glared at her.
“You’d have a fun time,” she went on. “And he’s smart so he could help you study for your finals.” This was how she was going to make up for stealing my boyfriend? She wanted to set me up with another guy—and not even a guy like Hunter, but a guy like Tristan? I stood up and tossed my magazine on the couch. “I don’t believe the two of you. Now you’re 49/431
throwing boys at me like they’re some sort of consola-tion prize.” I stalked up the stairs to my bedroom, but still heard traces of their conversation behind me.
“I knew she wouldn’t go for it,” Hunter said.
Jane let out a sigh. “She’ll probably go hide some more of my stuff.”
Hunter said, “Well, I guess it’s in Tristan’s hands now.”
Oh, I was
so
going to avoid Tristan from now on. I mean, the only thing worse than not going to prom was going to prom with the pity date your ex-boyfriend set up for you.
• • •
possible-prom-dates list that I existed. And apparently I needed all the help I could get.
The problem was that I’d never worn a bikini before.
My dad doesn’t allow them. He thinks even one-pieces show too much skin and constantly suggests that Jane and I wear wet suits. The bikini had seemed like a good idea when I’d been out trying to shop away my feelings of rejection. Jane may have told me I was too immature for Hunter, but the mirror begged to differ. Now driving to the club, I had second thoughts. Maybe I just wasn’t a bikini type of girl. Besides, Jane might be there with Hunter. What if she told my parents what I’d done?
How upset would my father be?
Emily pulled into the club’s parking lot and I got out of the car. It was too late to turn back. We walked into the women’s dressing room and changed. I took out my contacts so I wouldn’t lose them while I swam and put them with the rest of the things in my track bag. Then I reminded Emily she’d have to point out the cute upper-classmen to me. Without my contacts, I can’t recognize faces more than a couple of feet away.
I hesitated before leaving the dressing room. The smell of chlorine and sunscreen wafted toward me. It was the smell of possibility—both good and bad.
Emily had to take my arm and pull me out. “Come on,” she said. “You’re here to get noticed.” As we walked 51/431
to the pool chairs she gave me a rundown as to who the blurry figures around the pool were, emphasizing the eligible blurs. “James Dashner is by the diving board, Bill Gardner is next to him in the red swim trunks—oh, and Hunter and Jane are directly across the pool. Jane is staring at you and shaking her head.” I lifted my chin and refused to care.
“Let’s swim for a while,” I told Emily.
Emily took a running jump off the diving board and created a huge splash. I climbed onto the diving board after her. I would do a perfect, elegant dive. A dive that said, “Look at this girl’s grace and beauty. Those of you who have just dumped her—you are obviously stupid.” I felt the breeze pick up strands of my hair and blow them around my shoulders. I sauntered to the end of the board, looking out at the blurs that surrounded me. I couldn’t tell if any of them watched but I imagined they all did. I took a one-step bounce then made a smooth, effortless arc into the pool.
Actually, there would be some advantages to wearing a wet suit. Primarily, it wouldn’t fall off your body after you dove into the pool. As soon as I hit the water I felt the straps of my top give way. I tried to grab hold of it, but the momentum of my dive pushed me farther away into the pool.
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I needed air, but I needed the top of my bikini more. I also needed to shriek, but I couldn’t do that underwater.
Instead of surfacing, I turned around and tried to go after my top. I could make out a turquoise shape sinking in the water across from me. I swam toward it until my lungs ached, but it drifted off, just out of reach.
Finally I swam up for air, but only because I had visions of passing out and forevermore being known as the girl who drowned while wearing half a swimsuit.
I broke through the surface, letting my face pop out of the pool while I tried to tread water only using my legs. I wrapped my arms tightly around my upper body.
“There you are,” Emily said. She waved at me to come over to the side of the pool. I shook my head.
“Help me,” I mouthed to her. I didn’t want to say it loud for fear the lifeguard—a tanned blurry guy sitting in a tower not far away—would think I was drowning and jump in to drag me to safety. I gazed around at the blurs in the pool. I still couldn’t tell if any of them were looking at me, which at this point was a good thing.
Emily swam over. “What’s wrong? Why are you . . .
hey, where’s your top?”
I looked toward the bottom of the pool. “Down there.
I’m going to go get it. Don’t let anyone else dive in until I do.”
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“How am I supposed to—,” but I didn’t stick around to let her finish. The faster I retrieved my top, the better. I took a deep breath and dove back in, pushing through the water with all my strength. I could make out the turquoise blob, swaying softly below me. Stupid bikini.
Man, I hate it when my father is right.
I grabbed my top, then turned around and looked up.
I could see a pair of legs kicking in the water above me. I swam toward them. I’d need Emily’s help to tie the straps on once I reached the surface.
As I got close, I held the suit to my body, trying to re-position it as best I could. I was concentrating on this and not on Emily’s legs, which is why I didn’t notice that they weren’t Emily’s legs until I surfaced.
And then I was face-to-face with Tristan. I let out a short, startled scream.
Tristan spun around as though I must have seen something frightening behind him. He checked to see what, you know, just in case a giant squid was about to attack.
I searched for Emily. Which was useless since I couldn’t see. In the pressure of the moment, I couldn’t even remember what color swimsuit she had on.
Tristan returned his attention to me, still looking for the cause of my panic. “What’s wrong?” 54/431
“Um, nothing. You just startled me. I thought you were Emily.”
This seemed to add to his confusion so I said, “I don’t have my contacts in and I can’t see very well. Sorry about screaming.” I waited for him to swim away, but he didn’t. I wondered if he noticed that my bikini straps were floating untied around my shoulders, and if he would mention it. How does one casually explain to passing swimmers that you are half naked?
Instead of paying attention to my straps he looked in my eyes intently. “I didn’t know you wore contacts.”
“Yep, I do.”
He still didn’t swim away. Oh no. He wanted to make small talk in the deep end while both of us treaded water and I was clutching my swimsuit to my body. I let myself drift away from him but he followed.
“I’ve always had twenty-twenty vision,” he said.
“That’s great.”
I wondered if he’d ask me to prom right here. I suddenly had the urge to tell him that I knew Hunter was trying to set us up and I didn’t want any pity dates. But that would have encouraged him to say something along the lines of, “No, I really do want to ask you out,” even if he didn’t.
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The lifeguard blew his whistle and called out, “You need to leave the diving area so the next person can dive.”
Tristan took several strokes toward the ladder, effortlessly pulling himself to the side of the pool. I followed after him, in what I’m sure looked like a failed attempt to walk on water. I still wouldn’t use my arms so only my legs propelled me slowly toward the side.
Tristan turned back and watched as I attempted to march through twelve feet of water. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
It was then I noticed Emily at the side of the pool holding my towel for me. As I got closer she said, “Sorry.
The lifeguard made me leave. But I thought it might be best if I brought you a towel anyway, you know, just in case you couldn’t find your . . .” She looked at Tristan and her sentence drifted off.
Tristan’s gaze flickered between the two of us and then zeroed in on my straps, which, now that I’d stopped
marching
forward,
hovered
beside
my
shoulders like turquoise tentacles.
A flash of understanding went through his eyes and then he snapped his gaze back up to mine. “Um, do you want me to help you with that?” I held the suit tighter to my body. “No.” 56/431
He tried to hide his smirk. “No, really, I was a Boy Scout. I know how to tie knots that stay put.” I didn’t move. “I can handle this myself.”
“Okay.” He pulled himself up the ladder and looked back down at me. “Suit yourself. Although the next time you do it in that one, you might want to try a square knot.”
He and Emily both laughed. I glared up at them, then looked at the ladder.
The thing about ladders is that you really need, oh, a minimum of one hand to climb up them. And there was no way I was moving either of my hands.
I felt stupid to have to say it, but I didn’t have a choice. “Okay, I can’t handle this myself. Will one of you please get back in the pool and help me?” Emily handed Tristan my towel. “It’s a girl thing. I’ll do it.”
She climbed down the ladder, but as soon as she got back in the water, the lifeguard blew his whistle at us again. “Clear the diving area!” he called.
I turned so my back faced Emily. She held onto the side of the pool with one hand and tried to tie my straps with the other. She didn’t have a lot of luck with this method. I should have stuck with the Boy Scout’s offer.
“Please hurry,” I told her.
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She let go of the side of the pool and, treading water, tied the top straps. It was loose, but at least it was attached. She moved to the one that went across my back.
The lifeguard blew his whistle again, sending a shrill reprimand in our direction. “You need to exit the pool now!”
Really, lifeguards are way too uptight.
“She’ll just be a second,” Tristan called back. “Her bikini top came off!”
Let me say right now that if you’re planning to ask a girl to prom there are several things you don’t want to do. Yelling “Her bikini top came off!” in front of an entire pool full of her peers is on the top of that list.
I gasped, and then shrank into the water. A chorus of hoots and applause went off around me.