by Sarah Tomp
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” he answered. “I can’t sleep if you’re not home.”
“I’m home.” She crawled into bed between them.
Mom rolled over and ran her fingers through Ria’s hair. Murmured, “It’s so soft.”
“You missed a documentary on blood-borne parasites tonight,” said Dad.
“Don’t remind me,” Mom groaned.
She felt too big for the space but couldn’t make herself get up.
“What do you think happened to Esther Talley?”
“Oh, sweetie. What happened?”
“She’d be in high school now. Cotton still misses her. He thinks she’s going to come home. He doesn’t want to go to college because he wants to be here when she comes back.”
“That was an awful thing, Ria. I didn’t know it still bothered you.” Mom sat up.
“I didn’t either. But I think it should. We can’t completely forget about her.” Her voice was ragged and thick with tears she hadn’t known were there. “Cotton would do anything to find her. He’s always looking, wondering. He misses her all the time.” The idea of carrying all that heavy missing forever pressed on her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Do you think she’s alive?”
Mom wrapped an arm around Ria’s waist.
“I hope so,” said Dad.
“I don’t. If she’s alive, out there somewhere, it’s too awful to think what she’s doing. She can’t be the same anymore. Not after all this time.”
Dad rolled over to face her. “People can get through things. Our brains and our hearts, they help us. We have to hold out hope that she’s all right. And maybe, by some miracle, she’s going to show up again.”
A nod was as much motion as she could muster. Her body had turned impossibly heavy.
“She has a family who loves her and misses her. That goes a long way,” Dad continued.
She’d never minded being an only child, but now, seeing how her entire family fit on the bed . . . if anything ever happened to her . . . or either of them . . .
“Benny doesn’t have anyone.”
Neither of her parents answered. She could feel them waiting, biting back the questions and worry. It was true. He had no family, no girlfriend, not even a pet. They used to have him over for holidays, partly so he’d remember not to schedule practice. He had no one to say goodbye to.
“Ria, babe, I watched the video the other day. Of your fall in LA.”
She groaned. They’d watched it so many times that day to see if the other coach had done anything even slightly wrong. There was nothing to see.
“You looked so scared. I didn’t notice before.” Mom’s voice sounded thick and teary. Like maybe she could forgive Ria for getting it wrong.
“Do you remember how Benny got me pink boots for my tenth birthday? You said they were too expensive. . . .”
“And impractical! They had those ridiculous heels.”
“Damn, I loved them. I wore them every day to practice.”
“Yep. You clomped all the way from the car to the pool.”
Tears streamed down her face. She had no idea what to do with all this mess. “We used to have so much fun. The whole team did. We worked hard, but we played games, too. Like Suicide Squad. And Romeo and Juliet. He even let us play hide-and-seek in the gym.”
“The slumber party fund-raiser was the most exhausting night of my life,” Dad said.
Ria laughed. “You did a backflip! You were the coolest dad.”
“And I paid for it the next day.”
“I miss my pink boots.” Ria let out a loud, shuddering sigh. Wiped her eyes on the sheet, knowing she was smearing makeup on it. It wasn’t the boots as much as the her who had worn them. She’d been so sure of herself back then, so confident. She missed not knowing that the thing she loved most could sour and stain.
She missed little Esther going out to play, too.
She was being ridiculous. Her missing was nothing compared to the hole in Cotton’s family, and yet she couldn’t seem to hold herself together. Everything that had always been her—Ria—was leaking out the hole that diving had left.
If Cotton had the chance to end his missing, he’d take it. Even if it meant facing something new and awful. He’d be brave and charge in.
“Sean and I broke up.”
“I’m sorry. . . .” Mom stroked her hair.
“Don’t. I’m fine. It was my idea.”
“Was it because of . . . something with Esther? Did something happen?”
“No. I wasn’t even thinking about her until I was lying here like I did when she first disappeared.”
“What about Cotton?”
“I told you. He misses her all the time.”
“I meant you and Sean,” said Dad. “Did you break up because of Cotton?”
“I don’t know.” Of course they believed her. Her not-knowing was typical. Something understood.
Twenty-Eight
Seeing as Sean had been Ria’s first boyfriend, he was also her first breakup. She doubted he wanted to see her any more than she wanted to see him, but she was still grateful for her shortened class schedule. It would involve less deliberate avoidance time. The weirdest thing was how everyone seemed to be talking about what had happened.
She kept getting looks of sympathy. Or maybe some of those looks were more satisfaction. Delight. She hadn’t known anyone would even care. She never expected to be the focus of this kind of conversation. Whether they had it right was more than she could figure out. She hadn’t tracked Maggie down to translate.
Ria was used to being watched at meets. Judged. Envied and scorned in equal measure. She’d practiced the high-chin, shoulder-back, not-gonna-look-you-in-the-eye saunter. She knew how to look like she was calm, cool, and collected, no matter what was going on inside her mind. Most of her school days were filled with pretending anyway. It had always been a matter of going through the motions.
One of her special-ed teachers in middle school had a poster on her wall. A cartoon student sat in a desk, looking eager. Along his spine was the word SLANT. Otherwise known as the secret for success: Sit up. Lean forward. Act interested. Nod your head. Take notes. There was no need to “fake it till you make it.” That may never happen. Just fake it.
Instead of taking the trail that evening, Ria ran through the neighborhood, following the rough asphalt and broken sidewalks, past the houses that all looked the same, or at least related. Her legs felt strong, her body in line with itself. All her muscles and tendons and bones and organs united, keeping her going. Even though she was straining, pushing, her breath rough and ragged, the sweat streaming along her skin, she wished she could go faster, still faster.
In the past, she never would have run along the streets to Maggie’s house. Benny hated his divers exercising in public. He only wanted them getting attention for certain things—his right things. Winning first place, qualifying for bigger meets, being a standout diver in some way. He took pride in their hard work, but only in the gym or at the pool, not for everyone else to see. Maybe he wanted it to seem like their talent was some kind of magical experience. They needed to be the best, but no one should know how they got there.
She knocked on the front door, then paced back and forth along the walkway, cooling down and catching her breath. Her face felt hot and swollen, but her arms and legs felt almost weightless. She’d crossed an endorphin line.
“Ria?” said Maggie, peeking through the screen door. “What are you doing here?”
When she’d been in motion, all the words she’d been keeping inside felt loose and ready to be released, but now, standing still, she wasn’t sure where to start.
“Do you still have swings?”
“I’ll meet you out back.”
In the scruffy backyard, Ria headed straight to the crooked metal swing set. She stood on the black rubber seat with one foot, then squished her other foot in too. She held the rusty chains and pushed herself fo
rward, then back, building momentum. The trick was to keep her body straight and tight. It was a good alternative exercise—she was surprised Benny hadn’t thought of it. If he had, he would have brought swings into the gym.
Maggie took the swing next to her, sitting and swaying.
Still on her feet, Ria swung high enough that the drop made her queasy. Not in a bad way, simply in a reminder-of-gravity kind of way. She knew it wasn’t physically feasible to do an actual 360 around the top bar, but she pushed anyway, trying to defy all the invisible forces keeping her within a safe border.
“School was awful. I don’t know why everyone cares that Sean and I broke up.”
“He was really upset.” Maggie undid her bun, let her hair fall around her shoulders. She checked the ends, played with the frizzy parts.
“I know.” Ria didn’t expand. She’d never liked talking about her fails.
“He tried to do something nice for you and you . . . well, I guess it doesn’t matter since you’re leaving anyway.”
“I didn’t tell you about the NDT because . . .”
“Because you thought I’d be jealous. You didn’t trust me to be happy for you.”
Ria caught the ground with her foot, stopping her swing. “I might not go.”
“Right. You might not take the exact opportunity you’ve always wanted. As if you’d actually say ‘Gee, no thanks, I’d rather not follow my hopes and dreams.’”
There was no room to explain, not with the way Maggie was so certain.
“I’m thrilled for you, Ria. Honest. I know more than anyone how hard you’ve worked. I know what you’ve done to get this. I’ve been there even when you’ve forgotten about me.” Maggie crossed her arms. “It was always all about you, the chosen one. We all knew you were the reason Benny showed up. We were all there for you. But I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
It was true that Maggie had been with her, more than anyone. They’d pushed each other, on and off the board. They’d massaged each other’s cramps, cleaned scrapes, iced bruises. They’d coaxed and coddled and cheered. But still, even through all those hours shared, there had been things they didn’t talk about. Some pains lay too deep to be uncovered, exposed to the sun.
“I didn’t know Benny would come too. He can make calls for you. You can still get a scholarship. You’ll see. You should call Coach Ling at Dayton Hill University.”
“I want Uden.”
“You could be in the big leagues, Mags. With your new dive, and more on the way.”
“I don’t want the big leagues. I want to win.”
“Obviously. Why else compete?”
“I won’t win if I’m at a school like Dayton Hill. I’ll always be behind someone like you. If I’m at Uden, I have a chance.”
She knew Maggie was right. But she also knew, for her, those wins would feel hollow. Being the best had to be real, not a convenient illusion. Moving up through the ranks, toward the Olympics, narrowed the field to only the top competitors.
“I kissed Sean.” Maggie stood up.
The words didn’t mean anything. Not at first. They were too unexpected. Out of context. Surreal. But then, they hit. “Sean? Like Sean . . . Sean?” She’d almost said my Sean, even though that obviously wasn’t true.
Maggie’s eyes looked full, ready to overflow. If Ria didn’t know what to do with the words, the tears were completely inexplicable.
“It just happened. He was upset and wanted to talk. We were drinking . . .”
“The wine.”
“And, well . . .” She scrunched up her face. “One thing led to another.”
Ria could imagine it. Each and every detail. As if she’d been there. She knew them both, implicitly. Maggie, curvy and confident, and Sean with his roaming hands and shiny metallic hair. His skin the color of Maggie’s freckles. A perfect match. Now that she could see them together, she couldn’t look away.
“How many things?”
“What?”
“How many things were led to?”
“Just kissing. Maybe a little bit more than kissing. We were pretty buzzed.”
Ria pushed off the ground, started swinging again.
“I’m sorry. We both are. You have every right to be pissed. We’re going to make this up to you somehow.”
“How?” she asked, genuinely curious. “What does that even mean?”
Maggie’s lip trembled. The crease between her eyebrows deepened. She looked the way she did whenever she got sidelined at practice.
“It’s okay, Mags. It doesn’t matter.”
Sometimes Ria said things she wasn’t sure were right or true. And held back plenty more that she knew were true, but couldn’t say the right way. She wasn’t sure where these words fit. She didn’t know if she believed herself.
Twenty-Nine
Ria jumped on her trampoline. No flips, no twists. Just jumps. Hundreds into thousands of jumps. She was buzzing from her exchange with Maggie. Anger and hurt and confusion mixed into a toxic concoction flowing through her bloodstream.
The truth was she and Maggie didn’t have anything to bind them together anymore. They weren’t teammates. They had no future together. They never would have been friends in the first place if they hadn’t spent all those hours together in the alternate universe ruled by Benny. All that lack of normal.
And now, Maggie and Sean. Together. Kissing. More than kissing.
She wondered who made the first move. Who crossed that line first? Not that it mattered. It was clear the result had been mutual.
And why did she care? Things had been off with Sean for a while now. If they’d ever been aligned in the first place. Benny had been the reason they got together and she hadn’t even realized. She’d always thought Benny understood her. That the reason he never needed to ask her why, or how, was because he already knew what she was thinking. He hadn’t been thinking of her at all. She didn’t belong to herself. He’d given her away and Sean had played along even though he’d wanted Maggie. Everything was finally how it should have been.
But Maggie and Sean felt guilty. That’s what left this sour taste in the back of her throat. They felt like what they’d done was wrong. It was a big deal to them. But they’d done it anyway.
And what was the deal with kissing? How did that get started? And when? Did cave people grunt and slurp and press their faces together? Not that she blamed them. When she was doing it, kissing made sense. It was only when she sat back and thought about it that she felt bewildered. Yet another way her body and her mind moved in different directions. She’d spent an entire math class evaluating each of the boys, imagining and wondering how they might kiss.
And then there was Cotton.
Except he was completely different.
Worse than hearing the news about Maggie and Sean was the way her parents were being horribly, awfully, unbearably nice to her. Mom made lasagna, an old, indulgent favorite. She even included garlic bread. All of it loaded with calories and fat. An overload of carbs. A victory meal. She brought it out to the trampoline and insisted that Ria stop jumping. That’s where they ate, standing along the edge, as if it was an enormous flexible table.
She forced herself to eat a few bites, then rearranged the rest on her plate. It sat, heavy and weighty in her gut.
Dad tried his best to make witty conversation. He invited her to watch bad reality shows. Her parents both looked so sad, so worried. They were making her feel worse for herself.
“Maybe this is a good thing,” Mom said. “You don’t need the distraction of a boyfriend when you leave.”
“If I leave.”
“But now that you won’t have him to miss, it will make your decision easier.”
Could Mom actually think Sean was a reason not to go to the NDT? Mom had never even liked him much. Or maybe that’s why she’d never liked him. Because he was a distraction.
After Mom took the dishes inside, Dad turned to her. “I know you’re upset,” he said. “But maybe it would
make you feel better to move forward. This feels like a good time to finalize details with the NDT.”
“But I’m still not ready.”
“They aren’t going to wait forever, Ria. This is a special opportunity. They want you, but it’s not an open invitation. They need to know you’re serious.”
Later, in her bed, her thoughts and wonderings came too fast, too random, too changing to be useful or productive. Her whole body carried her confusion. She forced herself to do her breathing exercises, the ones Benny had taught her. Sometimes, if she focused on her body, on telling it what to do—lungs: take deep, slow breaths; fingers: stop tapping; legs: stop shaking, sweat glands: stop overreacting—she could slow the frantic urge to move. But tonight her body stayed on high alert. Fight-or-flight mode. The night stretched out in front of her, hours to kill and fill.
She finally texted Cotton around two. Nothing more than a hello, simply a check to see if he was sleeping. He answered immediately. Sometimes he was plagued with the same insomnia she faced every night.
She texted: I can’t sleep. I wish we could go caving.
He didn’t answer. Not right away. It was long enough that she assumed he’d drifted off to sleep. But then he answered: Let’s go.
In the dark?
It’s always dark in the cave.
She laughed to herself. Of course it was.
She waited on the trail, not far from her house. The night air was cool enough to see her breath. The sky was dark and heavy. She could see faint lines of thick, puffy clouds. Not even the stars shone through. She wore an extra layer of clothes beneath her mud-stained sweats, hoped it was enough. The zing of anticipation warmed her insides, but her fingers felt cold and her face stung in the windy air.
When Cotton’s light appeared along the trail, bouncing toward her, she moved to meet him. “Thanks for coming.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, not pausing in his steps.
Only the soft thumps of their feet on the dirt trail and the swoosh of his coveralls filled the quiet night. When an owl hooted, low and mournful, it raised Ria’s heartbeat, made her feel a wave of anxiety and thrill.
