by Sarah Tomp
Twenty-Two
The text from Cotton was short.
No words, only numbers.
With anyone else she might have thought it was a butt-text, random typing. But coming from Cotton, the digits had to be a code.
She left her bed, headed out to the trampoline to think. Halfway across the yard, she imagined a grid lining up the patio and the fence and suddenly she knew the numbers were map coordinates. Longitude and latitude. She recognized the pattern from his mapping program.
Inside her car—wearing sweats and running shoes, ready for wherever Cotton might lead her—she plugged the coordinates into the map on her phone. Driving, she followed the robotic directions spoken through her phone, making her way across town. A wave of uncertainty hit when she turned onto a small quiet road, but the bus stop on the corner reassured her. Cotton could be here.
Once she parked in a clearing just off the pavement, she studied her phone again. She zoomed in closer and saw that she hadn’t quite reached the marked location. She was going to have to walk the rest of the way.
This spot was unremarkable in all the ways a place could be overlooked. There were the same greens and browns that lined a hundred roads. Anonymous gravel beneath her feet led her to the insignificant patchy grass she crossed to reach the nothing special line of trees. It didn’t match the buzz of anticipation making her walk faster.
The shade of the trees felt cool and damp against her skin. She reached out and caressed the bark of a slender young tree yearning for the sunshine peeking through the thick branches above her head. A minute later she stepped out of the shade and into a long and narrow field.
All around her, woven within the grass and shrubs were hundreds, thousands—maybe more—of tiny blue flowers. She squinted and the whole world turned a fuzzy bluish-green.
“Hi, Ria,” Cotton said from the spot where he sat on the ground, out in the middle of the field, as if he’d been planted there.
“I found you.”
“I sent directions.”
As if that was all she needed. Numbers. Coordinates. A spot on a map. Apparently, he was right.
Ria walked through the field with her arms outstretched, wishing she could scoop up this place and hold it close. She found her way to Cotton. She stood, towering over him.
“I thought you would like it here.”
“I do, Cotton. I like it a lot.”
She sat next to him, keeping her arms pressed against her sides, hands in her lap. She studied his face, let her eyes travel down his broad shoulders, long arms, to his giant hands tapping the denim stretched across his knee.
“Cotton?” Her voice was small enough to blend into the flowers and stems.
“I’m listening.” His was deeper, sleepier, like it was nestled into the soil.
“Are these flowers a sign of your affection?”
“Yes. You asked if we were friends. I would like to be friends.”
“Oh, good. Me too. I thought you were upset with me.”
“I was upset thinking that your coach hurts you.” And here she was assuming it had something to do with Sean and her disloyal feelings. But no, it was back to Benny.
“I told you, he didn’t.”
“You said ‘not this time.’ So, not that day. But sometimes.”
He was right. He was the only person to say it, not ask. Questions from her teammates: What did he do? Was he mad? Are you okay? made it impossible to admit exactly what Benny did. They knew she’d messed up again, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing exactly what that meant. Pain always faded, but shame festered. It grew worse on the replay in her head.
Right now she didn’t have to deny it, but she might be able to explain.
“It’s not all the time. If you add up all the days, hours, dives I’ve spent with Benny, that would be an enormous number, like . . . pi.”
“The number pi? That’s not actually a large number. It has endless digits, but it’s not a huge quantity. It’s not even really a number, I don’t think. It stands for the relationship between a circle’s circumference and its diameter.”
“A number that’s not really a number?” Even though she had no idea what that meant mathematically, that might work for what she was trying to say. “Well, then, think of my diving like a giant pie. One that you eat. A pie-pie.”
“Pie.”
“Pie.” She echoed his echo. “So with that pie, the number of times he’s hurt me, it’s only a slice. If one slice gets dropped on the floor, there’s still way more good pie on the plate.”
“So diving is like pie?”
“No.” Ria laid back in the flowers.
“Okay. I like pie.”
She really liked this field of flowers.
The uneven ground felt bumpy beneath her head, her shoulder blades, the edges of her hips, on down to her calves and heels. The leaves and blossoms tickled against the places where her skin peeked out from beneath her clothes. The sun felt warm and the breeze blew cool. Her body was aware of his beside her. Solid. Close, but not touching. Not crossing any lines or breaking any rules. He was her friend.
The deliberate concentration of not touching, not reaching out and taking his hand, not measuring the length of her legs against his, not not not, made her feel inexplicably trembly and quivery. Within all the not, she felt the unsettled heat of wanting to. She might spontaneously combust. Or turn into molten lava. If she melted into the flowers, she’d make a long puddle. But eventually she’d cool and turn to stone.
Here and now, she breathed in the heat and the buzz and hum of them, together.
Twenty-Three
Saturday morning, Mom met her at the foot of the stairs, blocking the way.
“I spoke with the NDT coach yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ria sat on the stair, hoping Mom would sit beside her. When she didn’t, Ria scooted up a stair so their eyes would be even.
“I’m telling you now. Benny suggested I call, and it’s a good thing I did. They have a training trip in Florida next month. Not everyone is invited to travel, but to be considered you need to join their team. Officially.”
“Officially.”
“Right. You signed the commitment letter, but we need to move forward with plans.”
“Officially.” It was such a serious word, but it sounded so silly, too. Oh-fish-ally, oh-fish-silly, ohohoh. Officially seriously silly.
“Why are you hesitating, Ria?”
“Officially?”
“I know it must be scary to think of working with new coaches. Especially after that run-in with the terrible coach in LA.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She never should have yelled at you.” Mom grabbed Ria’s hand and squeezed. “You have to remember that Benny will be there. He’ll make sure everything goes right.”
“Officially.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” Mom was getting annoyed. “I wish you’d talk to me. You always make me guess what’s wrong. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s bothering you.”
“You,” said Ria. “Officially, it’s you bothering me. Right now, right here.”
“Ria!”
Apparently, but probably unofficially, that was the end of Mom’s point. At least she moved out of the way when Ria stood, so she could finally make it downstairs.
Needing to escape, she ran all the way to Cotton’s house. She was so intent on getting there she forgot to hate running on the way. She arrived, sweaty and mussed.
“Come in,” he greeted her. “Leo’s here. You’re here. We can go now.”
“And you, Cotton.”
He turned his head and looked at her from the side.
“You’re here, too.”
“Of course I’m here.” He broke into his brilliant grin.
Leo didn’t look nearly as giddy and happy as Cotton. He wasn’t clearly rude to Ria. Not mean, but not nice, either. She wasn’t sure his obvious annoyance was personally
directed at her, or if that was simply his mood.
Flutie followed them out to the shed, stood with her socks in the damp grass. Her hair was as thick and unruly as Cotton’s, but lighter and longer. “Can I go too?”
“No! That would not be satisfactory. You might get hurt.”
“Oh, come on. I want to see the cave.”
“I think it would be good,” said Leo. “We can take care of her.”
“No. Absolutely no. We can’t take care of people. We’re going into an unknown area.”
“But you’re letting Ria go,” whined Flutie.
“Ria is tough,” Cotton said, like it was a fact. “She’s strong and brave. You are not. You can’t come.”
After Flutie headed toward the back door, Cotton beamed, like he had no idea he’d caused the scowl on his sister’s face.
“I am very much looking forward to our exploration of the new chamber today.”
“Maybe next time we could bring Flutie,” said Leo.
“No. We’re wasting time talking about it.”
“I’m ready when you are,” said Ria, hoping to clear the awkward air.
The boys each wore a rope wrapped crosswise over his chest. Leo wore a beanie under his helmet.
Inside the cave, the three of them stayed close to silent. All their energy went into moving forward. No pausing for breaks or taking time to marvel. They wanted to hurry back to the newly found chamber.
The slippery hill was drier this time, or maybe she was ready for it. Even now that she was starting to know this place, to recognize certain points of the dark trails, she was still in awe of the cave. Its size, both big and small. The way the damp rocks glistened in the light. The occasional crystal mixed in with the more common sandy browns and grays. Even the most ordinary pieces were part of this huge mystery.
“Let Ria lead. She’s the best climber,” Cotton said when they finally reached the spot that would lead them to the new section.
She kept her shoes on in case she wanted them when they traveled beyond the drop-off.
“I can do it,” said Leo.
“This was her find. Let her take you up there.”
“Go ahead, Leo. But watch the drop-off. I know you know, but it’s a gnarly one.” She laughed nervously. “There are more handholds along the left side.”
Leo gestured for her to take the lead.
“I’ll wait here,” said Cotton. “Until you two get to the chamber. It’s too crowded for all of us.”
Ria knew Cotton was right, but wished it was him behind her as she crawled along, slowly, feeling for the drop-off. She was so relieved to find the spot she forgot to warn Leo she was stopping. She swung her feet over the rock shelf and sat on the edge. With a tremendous thud, Leo’s helmet slammed into her back, scooting her forward.
“Damn!”
“What happened? Are you safe?” Cotton sounded worried, calling from below.
Ria laughed, half from nerves and half from sheer gratefulness to still be sitting on solid rock. If she’d been in crawling position, Leo would have hit a mouthful of ass and she might have slid face-first into the dark.
“You should have told me you stopped,” Leo snapped.
“Do I need to go for help? Tell me you’re safe.” Cotton sounded frantic.
“We’re safe,” Ria yelled. She heard him moving along the trail. Then, quietly, she said to Leo, “Why don’t you want me here?”
“It’s fine.”
“I’d be happy for Flutie to come. It’s not my fault she’s not here.”
“That’s not it.” He sighed. “You’re confusing Cotton. He doesn’t know how to play games.”
“What games? Monopoly? Twister? Twenty Questions?”
“You know what I mean. You have a boyfriend.”
“We’re friends, Leo. Cotton and me. I’m not going to confuse him.” Only herself. And confusion was her standard mode of being.
A flash of light announced Cotton’s arrival seconds before he crashed in, filling the tunnel with his excitement. “Isn’t this incredible? Isn’t this the best?”
“Yeah. It’s awesome.” Leo’s voice had shifted to a surprisingly gentle tone.
“I heard a crash. But you’re safe. Right?”
“Yep. I’m here, not there.” She pointed over the edge.
Cotton grabbed her arm. “Don’t. Lean.”
“Look,” said Ria. They were on a rock balcony. Even with the dark corners and tucked-away shadows, it was clear the space below was as big as the Aquaplex. There was plenty of room for an Olympic-size pool here. Except it looked more like a field. Rolling hills of rock spread out and around. The way her light hit the swirls of white crystals nestled in the darker rock made her think of sprinkles of snow. Breathing in the damp cool air, listening to the silence of Cotton and Leo being equally impressed hit the back of her throat. This dark and hidden place was so damn beautiful.
“Let’s get the ropes set up.”
As he attached an anchor ring to the wall, Cotton sounded like he was apologizing. “We hate to mess with the cave, but it’s too risky to climb down without being secured.”
Once the rope was through the ring and firmly knotted—they each tested it—they fixed a metal bracket to help control the rope’s release as they descended. It was a matter of moving the rope out, then in, then out. Simple, yet the kind of thing that could be tricky in unexpected ways.
Cotton went first. His long legs and reach would be an advantage when dropping. He attached the rope to a harness. It wrapped around his middle, then down and around each of his thighs. If there had been fabric instead of straps, Ria would have called it a diaper.
After getting himself adjusted and attached, he went, backward, to stand at the edge of the dark chasm. Ria joined him at the edge.
“Get back! You aren’t latched in.”
“Don’t you want light?” She lay on her stomach and pointed her face—with the lamp of her helmet obediently shining where she directed it, a few feet to the side. That way he could see the shape of the rock wall but not have the bright in his eyes. “I can’t fall from this position.”
“Thank you. The light helps.”
Keeping his feet braced against the rock, he inched down the wall while Ria and Leo waited at the top. His grunts and heavy breaths braided with the click and shudder sounds of the rope letting him down, deep, and then even deeper into the dark.
Once he hit the bottom of the shaft, he looked up, his face a wild pattern of shadows and lines in the weird light. “This is an enormous space.”
Ria paced back and forth a foot from the edge, waiting for Cotton to send the rope and lever back up.
“You go next,” said Leo. “So you don’t get left at the top.”
“Thanks.” She meant it, passionately.
She had to adjust the harness to fit, trying to make sense of how the parts worked together. She was so much smaller than Cotton that she ended up with a long expanse of strap trailing down by her feet.
“Tuck the extra length around you,” said Leo. “You don’t want to get tangled in it.”
The lever was harder to manipulate than she’d expected. It was an awkward motion and she felt her own weight working against her, making it hard to lift and release. Worse, it was a frustratingly slow way to drop. It wasn’t the height. She was used to falling, but not in tiny increments. Not in a way that required so much thought and patience. As she reached what she estimated was about halfway, she figured out how to lock the release open—and down she went in a rush of speed and drop. She hit the ground hard, but instinctively bent her legs, saving her knees from the impact. Her hands burned with the hot sting of the rope, but she laughed with the heady feeling of success.
Then quickly, she undid herself from the harness, so Leo could have his turn. Finally, once Leo stood beside them, Ria turned to see where she was.
The dips and swells of the rock were more gradual than they’d seemed from above. The smell of the place was heavier. T
hick with something she recognized, but couldn’t name.
“It’s slippery.”
Moving slowly, she slid her shoes across the slick rock, little by little.
One wall, to her right, was a mostly smooth surface. To her left, there was a collection of rocks. Not quite big enough to qualify as boulders, but close. She’d started to climb one when something flickered on the other side.
It was the reflection of her helmet lamp. There, nestled amid the rocks, was water. That’s what she’d smelled. “There’s a pool!”
They joined her at the edge, leaning over the rocks until three lights shone into the still, dark water.
“There must be a stream coming from that way.” Leo pointed into the nothingness to the right. “Which means there’s more cave.”
“We might be able to use the stream as a guide,” said Cotton. “Wherever there’s water, the rock will be worn away. But this is definitely more pond than stream.”
“Let’s see how deep it is.” Leo held up a rock the size of his fist. He dropped it. The rock immediately disappeared.
“Did that tell you anything?” She laughed.
“It’s deep,” said Cotton.
“How very scientific.” Ria ran her fingers through the water. “It’s also cold.”
“That’s to be expected.”
She shone her light in, but it didn’t go far before it turned too fuzzy to be more than a soft glow. “I’m going in. To check the depth. So you can make the map more accurate.”
“You’ll be cold if you’re wet. We’re a long way from sunshine.”
Leo was right. She was plenty warm from all the effort of climbing, but the air was cool and the water was downright frigid. But, she couldn’t be beside a pool and not go in. Even if they determined the depth of it, numbers wouldn’t mean much to her. She had to feel it.
“I’ll keep my clothes dry.”
It made sense to strip. She didn’t want the extra weight of her clothes in the water, or to be wet afterward, climbing back up the rope.
She removed her shoes and sat on the rock to peel off her socks. Beneath her feet, it felt cool and slick. As she started to pull down her leggings, Cotton shoved Leo. “Turn around.”
