by Sarah Tomp
They both did. Her sports bra and spandex underthings wouldn’t be as revealing as a bikini, but Cotton and Leo didn’t live at the pool. Their lights shone against the shiny walls and they became two mismatched silhouettes to her. Ria left her clothes in a pile. The cool cave air felt good against her skin. She felt instantly more vulnerable as she took her helmet off and carefully set it on the edge. It would still light up the space, even as she went down below. Fear, quick and surprising, skittered across her skin.
“I don’t know,” Cotton said, his back to her. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
She couldn’t be sure, but it felt important to try. She slid over the curve of rock and let herself drop into darkness.
Cotton and Leo met her at the edge as she surfaced. She gasped, bobbing up and down, holding the side while she tried to catch her breath.
“Damn. So. Cold.”
“Let me help you out.”
“Not yet. I want to see how deep it goes.” She was already feeling better. Not quite so shocked and pained. Or maybe she was numb enough not to care. She pressed her toes against the rock. “I’m going down.”
“Go slow. The ground might be closer than you think.”
It was strange to sink into darkness. Her skin felt cold and tingling. The weight of the water pressed against her, held her tight. She drifted down, her legs loose and ready to hit the bottom. Until she didn’t. She buoyed up again, rising above the water’s surface to breathe. “It feels really deep,” she said, her voice full of air and shivers. “Shine your lights into the water.”
Using the wall for leverage, she sank deep enough to feel it in her ears, but her feet dangled free and loose, hitting nothing. Looking up, she could see two circles of light shining down on her, the water holding the beams in tight orbs. She reached out, swam her way back to the surface.
Again and again she tried, all along the wall, to reach the bottom. She even climbed out, then jumped in to gain more momentum. Each time, she sank into nothingness. There was no bottom.
When she finally climbed out, ready to call it quits, a great wild shivering hit her, hard. Her shoulders shook, her teeth chattered. Her hands felt stiff and close to useless as she tried to pull her T-shirt over her head and down over her wet body. She missed her shammy desperately.
From a couple of feet away, Leo said, “I see where the stream enters. I think it must be behind this rock face. We need to keep going.”
“N-n-n-n-not today,” Ria said, her teeth colliding between each word.
“No. We need more time. And more supplies. Food. Matches. A scale.” Cotton’s robotic list was laced with enthusiasm.
Her clothes clung to her wet skin, deep, racking shivers making it hard to think.
“You’re too cold,” said Cotton, sitting across from her.
“My feet are the worst.”
She sat to put her shoes on, but her hands shook wildly, like her nerve endings had become disconnected.
“Skin-to-skin contact works best for warming up,” said Leo.
She had no idea what he meant, but then, without a word, Cotton took her feet in his hands. Rubbed them thoroughly. A sound, way too close to a moan, slipped out between her lips. It was clear it had started somewhere in her middle. She couldn’t tell if she was still shivering or not. Her body was doing its own thing.
At first, the heat from his hands was more thought than feeling. It was as if she was watching someone else’s feet being massaged. Then she felt the rhythm of his fingers in time with his breathing. The inner vibration of him. It almost tickled. All of a sudden, the numb broke and she felt pain, like needles, but quickly they melted into a warmth that felt like something to crawl into. Except this was Cotton. It made no sense that he didn’t like being touched, not when he had the power to melt her feet this way.
“Do you think you can move yet?” asked Leo. “We’ve been here a long time.”
“I’m good. Let’s go.” She sat up, pulled her feet back and stuffed them into her socks and shoes.
At the rope, they all looked up the wall. It was much steeper-looking from below.
“Go ahead, Cotton,” said Leo. “We’ll catch you if you fall. But try not to.”
“I’m counting on the rope to catch me.”
Ria knew Cotton was nervous. Maybe even self-conscious to have them watch him adjust himself into the harness. But once he got started, he was fine.
“Why couldn’t I climb the rope in gym class?” he asked once he reached the top. “I must have gotten stronger. Our practices have paid off, Ria.”
“It’s also the rock. You do realize the rock makes it easier than a dangling rope?” She felt like she must have missed something.
Cotton was quiet a minute, then burst out laughing. “I was so excited for a second.”
“It’s still impressive.”
Damp and cold, she felt anxious waiting for her turn. Agitated and impatient. She counted the seconds it took for Cotton to send the rope and harness down for her, the ridiculous slow of her fingers fumbling until Leo finally helped her get it right. She was eating up more of their time. No wonder Leo didn’t want her tagging along.
Her rush to climb made her clumsy. It didn’t help to have numb fingers and clompy feet. At one point she slipped off the rock and fell backward, sliding at least three feet down before the rope snapped tight, stopping her from falling, but banging her knee against the rock. Damn, that hurt.
Somehow, in a fog of motion, they were back to the main tunnel. The tight fit didn’t bother her this time. She was too busy concentrating on making her hands and knees move forward. Every inch of her felt too heavy. So slow. She was such a wuss.
As they stepped into the late-afternoon sunshine, she was hit with a wave of dizzy. Something about the angle of the sun through the branches and the smell of the woods and the way she’d been tense and tight for the last couple of hours made her waver. The world was out of focus. She blinked, realized she must’ve lost her contacts when she’d been opening her eyes in the cave pool. Her legs turned limp and rubbery, like her vision. Instinctively, she squatted. She put her head lower than her knees and concentrated on breathing.
“Could you be hungry? That was a lot of work swimming.”
Cotton was right. She felt dumb not to think of it. But the way her head ached, she wasn’t thinking much of anything. All she felt was relief that he was here. Of course he’d never leave her behind. She murmured, “If wishes were fishes and fishes could sing . . .”
“Then we’d all be musicians with a line and a string.”
“You finished it, Cotton. I couldn’t remember it, but you did.”
“We sang it in Ms. Q’s room.”
“Give her a ride,” said Leo.
It took a minute, but then Cotton said, “Yes. Climb on my back.” He squatted in the dirt.
“Like a piggyback?”
“Piggyback.” He laughed. “Piggy. Back. Piggyback.”
“Oink, oink,” she said.
Even Leo laughed. “Oh boy. We need to get home.”
Twenty-Four
At Cotton’s house, she slipped off his back, murmuring, “You have such a different view of the world.”
Her stomach and chest, the part of her she’d had pressed against him, felt suddenly cool. His shirt had a damp imprint of her. He turned around and stood beside her, watching. Positioned like he was ready to catch her.
“Sorry about that.” Standing in his backyard, with the sun low in the sky, she felt better. Not enough to be embarrassed she’d let him carry her, but at least her head felt reconnected to the rest of her. She took a step and felt a rush of woozy behind her blurry eyes.
“Get her food. I’ll clean the gear.”
They left Leo with the hose while Cotton led her through the garage, stopping to wash their hands and faces in the large metal sink. The swirls of mud circled around the drain, little bits and pieces of dirt swimming and floating and sinking toward the grate. The smalles
t bits looked bright and shiny, close to brilliant against the silvery basin.
“Here’s a towel.” Cotton broke her gaze.
Stepping into his house set off every one of her senses. First there was the smell—sweet and yeasty, like baking bread, mixed in with something clean and lemony. She heard voices from somewhere, maybe upstairs, and the light from the corner made the room cozy. It was so much warmer inside. It felt like the air was pressing on her, hugging her from all around.
Cotton yelled down the hallway, “I’m home!” then turned to her and said, “Sit.”
She settled on a stool at the counter overlooking the kitchen. She wasn’t sure of the time, but couldn’t bring herself to care, either. Feeling slow and dozy, she traced the lines of minerals within the granite countertop. It reminded her of the cave, but this surface was smooth and even beneath her fingertips. The television, from down the hall in the family room, sent out bursts of laughter—both canned and live. A talk show blared from a radio on the counter, but Cotton clicked it off. “My house is always loud.”
“Will your parents mind that I’m here?”
“No.” He cracked eggs into a bowl. “Do you need to call yours?”
“No.”
She knew the idea of her parents not knowing where she was would be incomprehensible to him. But they were so used to her being gone for diving workouts, they still didn’t think to ask where she spent her time. They worried more when she was home.
Something was sizzling in Cotton’s pan by the time Leo came in with clean clothes and wet hair. Flutie followed, asking about the trip.
Ria looked down and realized she was still in her cave clothes. Her damp underthings felt clammy against her skin. Coveralls made for a more streamlined cleanup. Cotton looked rumpled in the T-shirt and shorts he’d had on underneath, but at least they weren’t smeared with mud.
Standing at the counter beside her, Leo pulled out a notebook. Flutie joined Cotton in the kitchen, monitoring the ins and outs of the toaster. All the cooking food smells were dizzyingly scrumptious.
“I gotta say, that was incredible. We’re going to need a lot more time to keep going. We could spend hours in that room alone.” He turned and looked at her. “I have some ideas as to how we can measure the water’s depth. If you’re willing to go back in.”
“Absolutely,” Ria said as Flutie chimed in with, “I’d try it.”
“No,” said Cotton.
The omelet tasted even better than it smelled. “What’s in here?” Her mouth was too full to be polite. “It’s incredible.”
“A little cheese and garlic and mushrooms.” Cotton handed her a steaming mug of hot chocolate. “When was the last time you ate?”
She was too busy chewing to answer, but she wasn’t sure, either. It wasn’t that she’d been deliberately not eating, but without structure to her day, without a schedule and necessity, it was one of those things that she sometimes forgot to do. She’d been trained to disregard physical discomfort. Hunger was barely noticeable. Especially since her meds dulled that feeling anyway. Benny had put her on a strict timeline for eating. He’d paced her calories and proteins and carbs throughout the day.
She’d finished her second piece of toast by the time Cotton and Leo started eating their own plates of delicious goodness. Flutie was sipping hot cocoa too. Eating didn’t slow the conversation.
“It might be a new discovery,” said Leo.
Cotton shook his head and swallowed. “I can’t believe that. It’s such a huge chamber. And the pond. Think about the pond. How could no one have found the pond before?”
“Pond,” said Ria. But didn’t have a point. She just liked the way the word sounded. As different from “pool” as the two things were.
“Well, then, they’re keeping it secret. Unless it connects with one of the others, no one has been here before. There’s no word of it on the forums.”
“We need to keep going and see if it connects,” she said.
They both looked at her, their stares intense and unwavering. She wasn’t sure if it was because they’d forgotten she was there or if they truly couldn’t understand her point. It seemed so obvious. If there was a chance it went on and met up with another cave, they should know it. “When can we go back?”
“We’ll need more than a few hours. We lose all our time getting to where we’ve already been.”
“If we bring more supplies, we can stay longer.”
“Why haven’t you done that before?”
The two boys looked at each other, clearly not wanting to answer.
“Fatigue,” Leo said finally.
“And the bathroom!” yelled Flutie. “That’s the real reason.”
“Ooooh,” said Ria. “What does that look like?”
“A box,” said Cotton.
There was an awkward silence seeing as there wasn’t a lot more to say about that.
“Well, if we have to put up with a box, we should go ahead and stay overnight,” said Ria. “It would give us more time to explore.”
“What do you think, Leo?”
“That’s what the extreme cavers do.” Leo pushed his empty plate away.
Ria felt a rush of pride, then asked, “Will your parents let you, Cotton?”
“I don’t know. We’d need to figure out the details. I’m not going to ask until I know what I’m asking.”
“Do you have to tell them?” Sometimes these smart, geeky boys missed the obvious. “Wouldn’t it be enough to tell them you’re camping, and when we’ll be back? Do they need to know the exact details? We could leave the specifics with someone. Like Flutie.”
“I’m coming too,” said Flutie.
Cotton glared at her, but Leo said, “Cotton, remember, flexibility.” He went on, without missing a beat, “This could be sketchy. We need a backup plan if something goes wrong.”
“There are three of us,” Ria said. Looking at Flutie, she changed it to “Or four. We can’t all get into trouble at the same time. As long as one of us can go get help, we’re good.”
“That’s a scary point of view,” said Leo. “We need to make a more foolproof plan.”
Ria turned back to her sweet, warm drink. She knew those kinds of plans didn’t exist.
Twenty-Five
After Leo left, Ria stood in the front doorway. She rocked back and forth, from left to right. Inside, outside. Here, there. She didn’t have a reason to stay, exactly, but she didn’t have a reason to leave, either.
Mrs. Talley poked her head around the corner. “Cotton, remember you need to get a haircut today. Your father will take you when you’re ready. Not to rush you out, Ria.”
There was her reason. “I should go,” she said.
Cotton wouldn’t meet her eyes. His forehead creased and wrinkled. His fingers rhythmically tapped his thigh. He looked worried and bothered. So unlike Caving Cotton.
“Is something wrong? You don’t want to get a haircut? Do you like it better long?”
“I want it to be shorter. But I don’t like getting it cut.”
Knowing how particular he was about things, she wasn’t especially surprised, even if she wouldn’t have guessed it was a problem. “What don’t you like about it?”
“It always grows back. It seems like a waste of money. Plus, they play annoying music.”
She bit back a laugh just as Bo came running down the hallway, making a great sliding entrance in socks. He stopped in front of Ria, staring, until she stuck out her tongue. He laughed and held out his tablet. “Is this you? Flutie says it is.”
She immediately recognized the intro to the video clip. Bo—or, apparently, Flutie—had found the link to her old recruiting film. “You tell me.”
“I think it is. Want to see, Cotton?”
“Yes.”
Heads together, Cotton and Bo stared at the device. A million dives completed, months and years of practice boiled down to seven minutes.
She crossed her arms and squinted as she watched Cotton watch
her dive. Eyebrows raised, then pinched together. Mouth open. Surprised. Puzzled. Awe. His face was a roller coaster. And beside him, Bo hooted and hollered. At the end, they each looked at her with eyes wide. “That was awesome!” Bo took off running, calling out to Jelly to watch too.
“Hey, Cotton. What if I cut your hair? I won’t charge anything and I won’t play music.”
“How are your skills?”
“Somewhere between professional salon and paper doll cutting.” Then, in answer to the worried look on his face, she added, “I’m good. I have very reliable skills.”
“You have actual experience cutting hair?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her, waiting.
“You want names and references? I’ve been cutting Maggie’s hair for years. It gets fried in the pool, so she’d be spending a fortune if she went in every time she needed her split ends tamed. And, there was this one time when the boys on my team lost a competition against us girls, and we shaved their heads as the prize.” She grinned. “I won’t shave your head unless you want me to.”
He shook his head with tiny staccato jerks.
“Got it. No baldness. I promise.” She smiled and said softly, “You can trust me. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think I could do a good job.”
He didn’t answer at first, but then he said, “Yes. You can cut my hair.”
She clapped her hands together. “I got the job! Oh, but should you ask your mother?”
“No. It’s my hair. Like I said, it always grows back.”
After he’d retrieved the things she’d requested: scissors, a razor—with promises for restraint, no baldness—and a towel, they went into the garage, which seemed to be Cotton’s personal haven. Ria pulled out the chair from the desk. She moved purposefully. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t completely sure.
He sat in the chair and she stood behind him, looking at the mess of curls headed in every direction. “How short do you want it?” she asked. “Do you have a photo you like?”
He shook his head. He had a bored look on his face, unless it was closer to resigned.
“Let me see your phone.” She took it from him, scanned through his photos, but they were all of places and objects, not people. No selfies. She checked Leo’s social media, scrolling through his pictures, looking for ones of the two of them.
