by Sarah Tomp
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t understand.” She scrambled to the ground. Put her hands flat on the cement, stretched herself out long, into a plank position. So many infractions she’d worked off this way. “How long should I hold it?” She tightened every muscle, readied herself for his check.
“This was the year, Ria. That was always the plan. I’m not waiting around. Seriously, what would we work for? What would be the point?”
Through clenched teeth, struggling to stay taut, she said, “We can try again next year. Or maybe even sooner, if we hit every meet.”
“No team wants you now. Everyone knows you’re a head case. You’re too unstable.”
“They can’t ignore me if I keep winning.”
“Go for it. I wish you all the luck.”
“You don’t believe in luck.” Her voice was thick, filled with frustration. Her body swayed, revealing her struggle. She hadn’t been working hard enough. She’d tried to stay strong, but she couldn’t do it on her own. “My parents will pay whatever you want. You know they will.”
“You think this is about money? No wonder you blew it. You never got what we were doing, did you?” He spat on the ground. “We’re done, Ria. I’m not going to waste my time on someone I can’t trust. The second you scratched that meet, we were kaput. Over. Cease and desist. The end.”
She pressed harder into the cement, trying to calm the involuntary shaking of her muscles.
“I know I screwed up, Benny. It’s all my fault. But you can fix this. Tell me what to do. I promise I won’t mess up again. Please, Benny. . . .”
His kick hit her right arm, too fast for reflexes to fight gravity. Her shoulder folded, giving her chin nowhere to go but down, hard, into the pavement. She should have been ready, should have ducked and rolled, should have known how this talk would end. Her ragged breathing blended with the sound of his engine, the smell of her blood with his exhaust. By the time she’d sat up, pressing her sleeve against the stinging scrape, he was gone.
Five
On her trampoline, between Maggie and Sean, Ria leaned back and stared up at the sky. Her glasses had a smear on the lens, but she liked the way it made the stars look like they’d been spilled behind the tree. Her chin only hurt when she touched it.
“Starting tomorrow,” said Sean, “we’re seniors.”
“Finally!” said Maggie. “We’re going to take the place over. Chrissy is already working on a class costume for Halloween.”
“We’ve got to start thinking about the perfect senior prank, too. Charlie’ll be the mastermind, I’m sure.”
“And prom,” added Maggie. “We’ll have the most ultimate prom. But what about tomorrow? We should do something for the first day.”
“We’ll meet by the front window—the same spot where we’ll have lunch. The Senior Roost.”
“I’ve waited three years to sit there!”
“You made it. We made it. Right, Ria?”
“Okay.” It wasn’t the rightest answer, but it wasn’t completely wrong. She hadn’t given senior year a lot of thought. Or any. She was having trouble following all the plans Maggie and Sean had for this year, but plans didn’t mean actually happening, either. Her plans had been to not be here. She was supposed to have won Nationals and now be diving around the world. She would have had private tutors instead of boring classes.
She and school had a tumultuous history. In elementary school, she’d always been the skinny kid with big glasses. One step behind and two levels below. She counted backward and upside down. Letters had a way of mixing up and jumping around. Playing hide-and-seek and peekaboo. Looking like one thing but being another.
Diving had saved her.
Getting her body exhausted had given her mind a chance to slow down. Plus, it gave her plenty of excuses. If she was gone at a meet all weekend, it made sense that her report was short and messy. Once teachers heard her extensive practice schedule, they were more willing to make even more adjustments and adaptations.
But now she’d failed diving, too. She hadn’t escaped after all.
“We’ll rule the school,” said Sean.
“We’ll rule the universe!”
“Ruling the whole universe sounds like a lot of responsibility,” Ria said.
Sean ignored her ridiculous comment, keeping in line with Maggie’s excitement. “It’s going to be awesome.”
“What color is awesome?” What she really meant was, how could school be awesome? Those two ideas didn’t exist together in her mind. Even for brains like Maggie and Sean, “awesome” seemed like an awfully long stretch.
“Well, Random Ria,” Maggie said, tossing a seed pod at her. “‘Awesome’ can be whatever color you want it to be.”
Cotton had made caving sound awesome and amazing and mysterious and yet he hadn’t mentioned any colors besides mud-brown. He’d been muddened. That joke would be too hard to explain to Maggie and Sean. Maybe Cotton was just easily amazed.
“Let’s see if we can find some awesome right here.” She handed her glasses to Sean, then stood up, reaching for Maggie’s hands. “I challenge you to an Awesome Add-on.”
“You start.”
“You be judge,” Ria said to Sean, who had already moved to the edge of the trampoline. “Rate our color of awesome.”
He shook his head, slipping down to the grass. “No way. I’m not starting a war. I’ll film for any disputes.”
They both laughed. It was true. Their competitions were fierce and unyielding.
Ria started basic, with a backflip. Maggie did her own, then reversed the direction into a front handspring. Ria took those two moves and added a front flip, the force of it launching her precariously high, setting off a chorus of shrieks. By the time they’d added a total of fourteen moves, they both staggered around the trampoline, a floppy mess of breathless, hysterical giggles.
Her chin ached now. She must have bumped it again. “Truce.”
“Hell no,” said Maggie. “If you quit, I win. Otherwise we keep going.”
“I’m done. I quit.”
Her friend eyed her mistrustfully.
“Seriously. You win, Mags.” She’d let her have this one. There was no point in winning.
“Oh, thank God. My legs are Jell-O-fied.” Maggie slid to the edge and off. “We worked our legs today along to the entire Les Mis soundtrack.”
Once Maggie drove away, she and Sean stood in the driveway, near his mother’s sedan. “Come closer. I miss you.”
“I’m right here.” She laughed, then shifted so he would be the one leaning against the car. She hated being trapped without a getaway route. Not that he’d given her any reason to need one. He knew he was her first boyfriend, and he’d been nothing but sweet. He’d put up with her weird and limited schedule. Understood when she was too tired and sore to go out.
Now, she let him pull her close. He kissed her, gently at first, but quickly warming up to where they’d left off the last time they’d been together. He locked his hips on hers, let her feel how much he liked this. She liked it too. She was curious what was on the other side of all this kissing and touching, but she also knew Sean had rules about what and when and how, only he hadn’t explained them yet. And now he kept bumping her bruised chin with his.
The outside light flashed on, off, then on, above them.
“I guess I better go.” His voice sounded raspy and deep.
“I guess so.” She slipped out of his reach.
“Senior year is going to be better than you think.” He grinned and played with her hair. “You’ll look back on it and see how I was right.”
“So I should look forward to how I’ll look back?”
“What?”
“Forget it. I’ll see you tomorrow—at the Senior Roost.” She kissed him, then opened his door, sending him on his way.
Looking forward, looking backward, anytime looked better than right now.
Six
The first day of school was always about seeing and being
seen. Who was wearing what. Who’d lost or gained weight over the summer. New tats and piercings. The status of romances—breakups and hookups. Figuring out who’s in what class and when. Where paths cross. Anticipation. Senior year was all that, on steroids.
As soon as Ria walked through the doorway to school, she knew she’d worn the wrong thing. Gym shorts or yoga pants along with dive T-shirts had always been her uniform. Here at school, she liked to be anonymous. Invisible. For today she’d let Maggie talk her into wearing a sundress, skimpy and slinky, an explosion of color. In her bedroom, with only her reflection to judge, the dress had felt right. Looked sexy. Now, in the loud and crowded space, it felt too tight and too bright. Aware of being seen, she touched her chin in reflex, even though she knew the bruise was barely noticeable under makeup, especially if she kept her head tilted.
“You look hot.” Sean sidled up close, keeping one arm behind him. It was clear he had something hidden back there. He was big on surprises. Knowing one was coming was both better and worse. Then he frowned. “You always flinch when I come near you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“I think it’s because of diving.”
“What?”
Ria stepped back. Her cheeks flushed. Just because he’d been at the pool, sitting in his lifeguard chair, being useless and irrelevant, didn’t mean he knew everything. Or anything.
“It’s okay. I understand. It’s just hard for you to relax now after working so hard for so long.”
“I’m fine. I’m good. Great.” She grabbed his belt loop, shaking off the feeling she’d been blindsided.
“Okay, good, great. I brought you something.” He swung his arm out from behind his back, presenting her with a bouquet of flowers. Before she could thank him or even get a decent hold of them, he kissed her in front of all his friends.
A chorus of “Ooooh” broke out around them. Someone coughed the word “whipped.” Sean grinned. He bumped fists with his friends, making the rounds, leaving her to watch and wonder if the kiss had been for her or for them.
Maggie appeared at her side, smelling of shampoo and lotion. She greeted everyone with that comfortable way of hers.
Ria tugged her wet ponytail and said, “Did you wake up late?”
“I had practice.”
“You had a morning workout? Today?” Practice on the first day of school was hard-core, even for Benny.
“It was a one-on-one. I want to get my gainer solid.”
“Right,” said Ria. But it wasn’t. Maggie’s parents never paid extra for diving. The possibility of an Uden scholarship must have influence. She hoped it was worth it. It felt like too little, too late. She sniffed the flowers in her hand. They already looked bored and wistful.
“This is for you, too.” Maggie handed her a small silver thermos.
She opened it and was hit with the smell of peanut butter and banana. When she took a sip of the creamy deliciousness, the feel of cold in her throat and stomach was somehow a just-right soothing discomfort. Nerves had kept her from eating breakfast, but this was exactly what she needed.
“Did you even add a shot of . . .”
“Coffee,” said Maggie, looking amused.
“Oh, Mags, I am yours. Forever. You have no idea.”
“You’re right. I had no idea.”
“Hmm?” said Ria, still savoring the sweet perfection.
“It’s from Benny. He said you’d need it today.”
Brain freeze.
“You two.” Maggie shook her head. “It’s so messed up that neither of you can admit how much you miss the other.”
Ria made her way to the counseling office to pick up her schedule. Thanks to her special-education paperwork and modified graduation requirements, she always had to be counseled before each new school year. She hadn’t bothered trying to explain her schedule to Sean. He probably didn’t even know her remedial support classes existed. They were the kind of thing you either needed or they were invisible.
She didn’t mind discovering a crowd in Mrs. Sellers’s office. It only meant she’d have longer before she had to face any actual classes. She’d spent many hours in the counseling center. This office was the first stop whenever there was a problem brewing. Diving and meds had helped her do better in school, but some things had no cure.
Ria knew Mrs. Sellers kept a stash of dark chocolate in her desk. There were puzzles and games behind the college reference brochures. She’d mastered genius level for the peg puzzle during sophomore year when she’d been accidentally put in advanced Spanish. As if maybe she’d somehow be able to read, write, and conjugate verbs in a different language. Her grade had ended up being similar to the one she had in English, so maybe it wasn’t that much of a mistake. Benny understood. That’s why he’d convinced her parents she’d do better to spend her time diving. She took a sip of the perfect smoothie he’d sent for her. More proof that he knew her best.
Today it wasn’t the usual group of misfits and troublemakers she was used to seeing in the counseling office. Even Cotton was here. She sat in his row, two seats over. He was working in his notebook as she studied his profile, the sharp edge of his chin. Beneath his curls, his broad shoulders rolled toward his lap. His bent legs barely fit in the space between his chair and the one in front of him. His arms, busy drawing, looked like they could reach her. In reflex, she extended her own arm toward him to measure the distance. He turned and looked her. “Hi, Ria.”
She got up and moved to the seat beside him, careful to keep a barrier of space between her arm and his. Now she could see the page on his lap was filled with circles, squares, and rectangles.
“I keep thinking about the cave.”
“Yes,” he said, like that was to be expected.
Mrs. Sellers stepped out of her office then, holding a stack of papers, so Cotton looked straight ahead and Ria settled back in her chair. She realized she’d been absentmindedly ripping petals off her flowers. Not like it mattered. They were already dead, even if they didn’t know it.
As she scanned the room, trying to figure out what this group had in common, she saw what she’d missed. Cotton had mapped the room. Each shape stood for a piece of furniture. She pointed to a spot in his notebook, and whispered, “You are here.” He nodded; then, a full second later, grinned.
“Good morning, Pierre High seniors,” said Mrs. Sellers. “Each of you has been approved for a modified day schedule. You’ll need to pick up your official paperwork and have it signed by your supervising mentor.
“If you’re taking online classes, we will receive the electronic updates. Those of you enrolled in classes at the community college will need to get a signature from both your teacher and the dean of the department. If you are enrolled in a work-study program, your immediate supervisor will need to sign for you. And those of you enrolled in other endeavors”—she met Ria’s eyes—“will make other arrangements.”
She smiled in reply. Then felt her face flush hot and red.
Even though she’d assumed she’d be gone by now, the school had kept her minimum schedule the way Benny had arranged for last year. He’d made sure she only had to take three classes, each one designed to help her achieve basic proficiency for graduation and then she’d be free before lunch. Free to practice and work out in private lessons. Free to dive. Which she didn’t do anymore. She was completely free. And completely lost.
Seven
After she’d finished her few classes, Ria sat in her car, letting the not-yet-cool air blow hard across her face. Her phone buzzed from the cupholder. Another text from Sean.
She replied now: Minimum schedule. Ask Maggie. Then, as if she was worried he’d try to stop her, or ask her too many questions, she turned off her phone. She put her car in drive and let school shrink in her rearview mirror. The sun shone bright, the music played on her radio, and she could go anywhere. Only she wasn’t sure where that might be.
As she turned onto the main road, she immediately recognized the tall figure at the
town bus stop. Cotton.
She stopped her car a few feet past. She eyed him in her mirror, waiting for him to react. He stood behind a dark green metal bench, slouched against the sign. He had terrible posture. He looked at her car, but she couldn’t tell if he knew it was hers.
She put it in reverse and backed up along the edge of the road until she was parallel to him. He stepped back, away from the street until he was almost in the bushes.
She rolled down the window. “Do you want a ride?”
“What are you doing, Ria?” He didn’t move from his spot.
“Stalking you, obviously.” He didn’t laugh, so she added, “I thought you might want a ride.” It didn’t make sense that she suddenly felt guilty. Like she had to make excuses and explanations. It must be the look on his face. It was as if he couldn’t believe she would do this—whatever this was—to him. “Never mind.”
As the window almost reached the top again, Cotton said, “Wait.”
He opened the passenger door and looked inside. Then at her. “Are you sure?”
“It’s only a ride.” She now felt as unsure as he looked. She’d obviously missed some part of ride-offering etiquette.
He pulled out his phone and started tapping. “This is a blue Subaru, correct? Four doors.” He was obviously sending someone her details. But then he got in.
He took up most of the front seat. His head almost touched the car ceiling. He seemed made of arms and legs in every direction. After he buckled his seat belt, Ria asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” he said. Then, after a pause, “Thank you?”
“Blue Subaru enough info? Do you need my driver’s license, too?”
“No, thank you. I always tell someone where I am. For safety.”
“Because of Esther.”
“Yes.”
“Did I scare you when I stopped my car?”
“Yes.”
It was hard to believe he worried about someone scooping him up from the side of the road. He was far too big for scooping. His hands were the biggest she’d ever seen. Ria fought the urge to measure hers against his, by clutching the steering wheel. “Where should I take you?”
