Up for Air

by Laurie Morrison

  “I’ll pull you in if you need me to,” Dad said.

  And knowing that she had a backup plan was enough to power her out to the spot.

  There was nothing magical about the place where the buoy sat—no real reason why the view from that floating red sphere should have been any more special than the view from five or ten feet behind it. It probably wasn’t even that far out, or the lifeguards wouldn’t have let them go.

  But Annabelle and Dad stayed out there for a few minutes, treading water as they looked out at the vast horizon and then back at the beach. It took a minute to find Mom, who sat way back near the dunes with a big straw sunhat and a book propped on her knees. She seemed smaller than usual, as if Annabelle were peering at her through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars.

  Annabelle felt stronger and bigger than she ever had but also more aware of how giant the ocean was—how giant the whole world was—and how tiny she and her parents were in comparison.

  She didn’t need her dad to pull her on the way back. She managed to kick almost the whole way, and then she rode in on a wave at the end, just like he had taught her that same trip. She gave into the ocean’s power, letting it push her toward the shore.

  Now Julia Bennett was kicking her way back in with her dad walking beside her, the water barely up to his waist.

  He was a good dad, Mr. Bennett. Cheerful and friendly, and he never seemed to yell, even when he was telling Julia and Kelsey to come inside and they didn’t listen.

  But her dad had been a good dad too, for a long time.

  Maybe now he was back to that old version of himself, who gave her piggyback rides when she was tired and made her feel strong and safe enough to kick all the way out to that buoy and back.

  And he knew what it was like to be bad at school. He knew what it was like to mess up and make Mom worry.

  Yeah, there had been a lot of moments when she’d thought it would be easier if Mitch were her real dad. But Mitch wasn’t her dad, and Mitch had daughters of his own, and she had no guarantee that everything could go back to that easy, cozy way it had been between them now that she had ruined her chances with swimming and made him mad instead of proud.

  Here with Mom and Mitch, Annabelle was like those brand-new cedar beams on their deck—the ones that had clashed with the weathered old ones and bothered her mom so much when they’d first moved in.

  She didn’t fit with smart, successful Mom and Mitch, and she didn’t fit at school, and now she couldn’t try to fit on the high school swim team, either. And unlike those deck beams, she wouldn’t get any closer to matching as time went on.

  Dad was doing better, and he was nearby, and he missed her. It seemed so obvious now, that of course she should write him back. She couldn’t believe she’d waited so long.

  She waved goodbye to the Bennetts, told Mom it was too hot outside, and rushed up to her room, where she opened her half-filled notebook from last year’s science class and started to write.

  Chapter 22

  Annabelle wrote the letter over and over until she got the tone right—more times than Mr. Derrickson made her rewrite the beginning of her history essays. In the end, she decided to start with easy stuff: how much she liked walking on the little beach near the cottage in the off-season, with a thermos of hot chocolate and the wind whipping her hair; how the locals got annoyed with the summer people for swooping in as soon as the sun warmed the sand but bolting before the threat of hurricanes; how the fly was still her best stroke, but she raced in free, too.

  She didn’t write about school or her wrist or swimming with the high school team. And she asked questions, but not too many and nothing too personal. Just how Dad liked Boston, and if he was still going to root for the Yankees even though he was now in Red Sox country.

  Finally, she added a P.S.

  It would be nice to come to Boston to see you. Since it’s the summer, I have plenty of time.

  It would be too weird to have Mom or Mitch go with her, but maybe they would let her go by herself. The ferry left from the harbor right in town, down the hill from the Creamery. She knew how to get from the ferry terminal to the bus stop on the Cape, and the bus went right to South Station in Boston. Since she sometimes went with Mia’s family, she knew how to take the T around the city, too. She could even tell Mom and Mitch that she and Mia were going to visit Jeremy at his summer program but then go to Dad’s instead.

  She wouldn’t do it, really. It would never work, when Mom insisted on checking in to see if she’d made it to tutoring at the library or when she walked five minutes down to the little beach. But she still felt a quick thrill, just knowing it would technically be possible. Just thinking about doing something that big without Mom or Mia or Jeremy or anyone knowing.

  The next morning, when Mitch sent Annabelle outside to pick up the newspaper, she put the letter to Dad in the mailbox, facedown underneath a few bills Mom and Mitch were sending out.

  Her phone rang as she walked back to the house, and she cringed when she saw the display. Mia.

  They hadn’t talked or texted since the meet on Friday. Mia didn’t know about Annabelle’s wrist or going to the Creamery with Connor. Unless Jeremy had said something to her, even though Annabelle had asked him not to?

  Annabelle tried to take three breaths before she answered, but the air wouldn’t come all the way in. “Hey, what’s up?” she said.

  “You tell me.” Mia’s voice was X-Acto-knife sharp again. So Jeremy must have told her about Friday night.

  Annabelle tried again to steady her breathing and focus on the nearby ocean—always rolling in and out, in and out, whether Mia was furious with her or not. If she really listened, she could hear the soft swishing of the tiny waves that lapped onto the shore at the little beach down the road.

  “Well, I sprained my wrist and broke my thumb,” she blurted out. “And my mom and Mitch are really mad. ’Cause I went out with . . .” She paused, then decided not to mention Connor. “Jeremy and Kayla and some girls from the swim team on Friday.”

  Mia didn’t say anything.

  “I really screwed up,” she added.

  Mia let out a short, harsh laugh. “Yeah. I heard.”

  Annabelle stiffened. “What did you hear?”

  “Jeremy told me about your little adventures. How you were out gallivating with Connor and Jordan and them, even though you told me you didn’t know about any plans.”

  Annabelle was pretty sure the word wasn’t gallivating, and for a second she wished Jeremy were around to correct Mia. Or that she were sure enough to correct Mia herself.

  “I . . . I didn’t know they were going out when you asked me,” she said. “It was a last-minute thing.”

  “And I heard you got Connor to try to lift you over the fence at Dennis Martin’s house, but then he left when you got hurt,” Mia went on.

  Got Connor to lift her? It had been his idea! And he hadn’t wanted to leave her!

  Mia feels left out, Annabelle told herself. She’s upset that I didn’t invite her. I can probably fix this if I figure out the right thing to say.

  Except then Mia added, “It sounds like you really treated Jeremy like crap.”

  “I have to go,” Annabelle croaked. Because she couldn’t stand the idea of Mia and Jeremy united without her. Bonding with each other by saying all sorts of awful things behind her back.

  And yes, Jeremy had come back to get Annabelle and helped her back to town. But it’s not like he’d been nice to her while he was doing it. And if he’d just kept his mouth shut, she’d get to go back to the high school team once her wrist and thumb healed, and she and Mia would be fine. Or maybe not fine, but not like this.

  Annabelle listened again for the gentle swish of the water. Her wrist and thumb still hurt, but right now that was nothing compared to the way her muscles ached to be in the ocean or the pool—she didn’t care which. She wanted to dive under for ages before she had to come up for air. To block out everything except the powerful swish
, pull, and kick of her own arms and legs. To be going to practice tomorrow, where she could wear her black suit and make sure Ruby, with her flowery-smelling hair and pink bikini, didn’t steal all of Connor’s attention. Make sure Elisa and Kayla didn’t decide to befriend Mia in her place.

  The front door to her house creaked open. “Belle!” Mom called. “Come back inside, honey. You can’t stand out there without any sunscreen, and you have to finish that chapter before tutoring!”

  A few days ago, she’d been the girl who just might help her team win a championship and start dating an almost-sophomore.

  Now she was only Annabelle: useless and hurt and alone.

  She glanced back at the mailbox and wished she could somehow squeeze herself into that envelope and get mailed off to Dad’s new house along with her letter.

  Chapter 23

  The next night, Annabelle sat up in bed with her summer reading book propped up on her knees and her still-throbbing hand resting on a pillow.

  Elisa had texted her to say they’d missed her at practice and to see how her hand was doing. Kayla had, too, even though Annabelle had been afraid Kayla would be mad at her, since Jeremy was.

  But then they’d both just written back with “I’m so sorry”s when she’d told them how bad the injury was, and those tiny flashes of conversation had made her feel worse, not better. They’d reminded her how bored and lonely she was . . . and they’d made her wish Connor would text, too.

  She could text him, though.

  He’d been the one to start all of their text conversations so far. Except the one Friday night when she’d texted to say she was okay. But that one basically didn’t count, since he probably would have texted if things hadn’t gotten so chaotic and his phone had had more battery.

  A girl like Ruby wouldn’t think twice about texting Connor even when he hadn’t texted her first. Mia probably wouldn’t either, if she had his number.

  Annabelle unlocked her phone and felt that zinging, about-to-race adrenaline as she found their last conversation and started to type.

  Hey. What are you up to?

  Connor replied right away. Not much. Missed you at practice today.

  Missed you! She squeezed her pillow to her chest to keep from squealing.

  Hope you guys went through the door at the pool instead of climbing the fence, she wrote.

  LOL, he replied, and she squeezed her pillow tighter. Maybe swimming really wasn’t the only thing she did well. Maybe she was pretty decent at this, too.

  Over the next few days, Annabelle and Connor texted every night. Annabelle usually had to text first, but Connor always asked her questions—like what she had done that day, and if her hand was any better, and whether the summer people seemed more obnoxious than usual.

  Every time he asked a question, she got that warm, belly-full-of-hot-chocolate feeling. Because every question he asked meant that he wanted to keep the conversation going. That he liked texting with her as much as she liked texting with him.

  There was one time when he sent a text that didn’t make any sense—a haha no don’t do it! when she hadn’t said anything funny, and she had no idea what he was telling her not to do. And then he followed it up with an Oops! Sorry meant to send to someone else! And then she had to wonder how many other people he was texting with right then, and who they were.

  But Jeremy had done that to her once with a text that was supposed to go to his mom. It didn’t have to mean anything.

  Other than texting with Connor and wondering whether or not her dad had gotten her letter yet, she didn’t have much going on except tutoring. On Friday, when the rest of the swim team had a meet on Cape Cod, she beat Janine to the library for their session and chose her favorite table—the one that looked out at the sparkling water on the horizon.

  She stared out the window, wondering why the ocean seemed gray from this distance even though it was always blue or green up close and wishing she could ask Jeremy what he thought.

  Jeremy, who was supposed to go straight from today’s meet to Boston, since his summer program started tomorrow. Who hadn’t even said goodbye.

  “Hey there,” Janine said, sliding into the seat across from Annabelle. “How’s the wrist?”

  Annabelle shrugged. “Hurts.”

  “It must be hard not to be able to swim, huh? When I had shin splints and couldn’t run last summer it was the worst.”

  Janine shook her head at the memory, and Annabelle noticed that Janine’s tight curls stayed put when her head moved, instead of swinging side to side the way her own hair would. Back when Janine went to the Academy, she’d worn her hair in a straight ponytail or a tight, high bun, but since she’d come back from college this spring, it was like a puffy cloud around her face. She looked older this way. More confident, too.

  At the Academy, Janine had fit in better than Annabelle did in some ways, since she was smart. But Gray Island wasn’t exactly a diverse place. There were some other black kids who boarded at the Academy, but not many. And there were even fewer black families who lived on the island. More came from the mainland for vacation . . . but not that many more.

  Annabelle wondered what it had been like for Janine to stand out from other island kids in two ways—because she went to the Academy and because her skin was a different color—and what a relief it must have been to go to college in New York City, where she probably didn’t have to stand out so much all the time.

  “You ready to start?” Janine asked.

  They took turns reading pages aloud, and Janine paused to ask comprehension questions all the time because even though Annabelle’s “verbal intelligence” and “reading fluency” were technically sort of high according to all that testing she’d had, her “processing ability” was terrible, which meant she had trouble remembering what she’d read. And when Annabelle couldn’t answer Janine’s comprehension questions because she’d zoned out staring at the sparkling gray ocean and wondering if the team would win their meet on the Cape today without her, they had to go back and read the last page all over again.

  After they’d finally finished a chapter, Janine nodded at someone at the other end of the room, over by the copier. It was a shortish guy who was wearing khaki shorts that ended halfway down his calves and waving at Janine with a grin on his face. Annabelle didn’t know his name, but she knew he was in Connor’s class at Gray Island High. She’d seen them hanging out together in town.

  “My friend’s little brother,” Janine said. “I saw him at a party last weekend. I remember him being, like, your age.”

  The way she said it made it sound like somebody Annabelle’s age would still ride a bike with training wheels.

  The guy headed over.

  “How’s it going, Mark?” Janine said.

  “Hey! You coming tomorrow night?” he asked. “Bonfire on the beach by Bailey Sound. Should be a good crowd.”

  He stuck his hands into the pockets of his too-long shorts and leaned back a little, puffing out his chest. There was something too purposeful about the way he stood there—like he was telling himself to be casual. Annabelle thought of math problems and how you were always supposed to show your work so the teacher would know what you were trying to do. In real life, it was better if people couldn’t see so clearly what you were attempting.

  “I don’t think so,” Janine said. “But have fun.”

  “Next time, maybe?” the guy—Mark—asked.

  Janine gave him the same vague, let’s-keep-things-moving nod Annabelle got when she tried to talk about something other than her work.

  “Sure, maybe.”

  Then Mark trudged away, and Janine searched the book for the place they’d left off. Did Janine not realize that this guy liked her? Or not really care, since she was in college and he was still in high school?

  “Okay, you’re three-quarters of the way down this page,” Janine said.

  Annabelle found the spot and began to read again, but then she glanced up, out the window at that dis
tant line of ocean, and something occurred to her.

  Good crowd, Mark had said when he was trying to convince Janine about the party.

  Mark was Connor’s friend, and if there really was a good crowd at this bonfire, then probably Connor would be there, too. And maybe when Annabelle and Connor texted next, he’d invite her to come along. She got excited for a second before she remembered Mom and Mitch were barely letting her leave the house. There was no way she’d be allowed to go even if he did.

  The next day, Annabelle was lounging in front of the TV when her phone buzzed with a text. She lunged across the couch for it hoping maybe it was Connor, but it was Elisa instead.

  Hey Annabelle, Elisa had written. Kayla’s coming over tonight for pizza and movies. You should come too!

  Annabelle smiled as she read the words. Elisa and Kayla didn’t have to be nice to her when she wasn’t even swimming with them anymore, but they actually wanted to hang out with her. And then her smile grew as she read Elisa’s next text, with her address.

  In Bailey Sound. Where there was going to be a bonfire that Connor would almost definitely be at. That maybe Elisa and Kayla would want to go to, if Annabelle could only get permission to be at Elisa’s house.

  Chapter 24

  Mom was working an afternoon wedding, and it took about two seconds for Annabelle to convince Mitch she should be allowed to go to Elisa’s. He called Mom’s cell and somehow convinced her, too.

  “We both think it’s good for you to have some time with nice friends,” he told Annabelle.

  Annabelle knew how Mitch’s brain worked, so she was pretty sure she knew what else he was thinking. Maybe if she developed some good, wholesome friendships with girls like Elisa, who had pizza-and-movie nights instead of sneaking off to meet Connor Madison and sprain their wrists and fracture their thumb bones, Mom would think going back to the high school team was good for her after all, once she finally recovered. Maybe she could get back by the end of the season, before the South Shore rematch.