Goldfish

by Nat Luurtsema

  “You want to see him?”

  “Of course!” I say. “If that’s OK?”

  “I was just about to get a lift from Pete, if you…?”

  “Will Pete want to see me?”

  “Oh, shut up,” he says, grabbing me by the backpack and giving me a little shove. “We’ll drop you back by the end of lunch.”

  Our strides match as we walk out to the parking lot together; I’m nearly as tall as him. I can see people watching us and I begin to feel pretty nervous.

  This is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done, and I’ve been really adding to that list this past couple of weeks. I’m cutting school with two boys who were recently accused of beating me up. In a closet. In an aquarium.

  Pete is waiting in the parking lot in his Mini, having a cigarette. I guess we aren’t training anymore, but I still feel a prickle of motherly irritation at him. He stares when he sees me, flicks it out the window, and gets out to say hi. I give him an awkward wave, and I’m shocked when he comes over and gives me a hug.

  He squeezes pretty much every bruise I’ve got, but that’s OK.

  Roman opens the passenger door, flipping the seat forward for me.

  (This is so cool! Or it would be if it weren’t an emergency dash to the sickbed of someone I really care about.)

  “Actually, do you want front or back, Lou?”

  (And if it weren’t physically impossible to get three lanky teenagers in a Mini.)

  “Um.”

  I feel like the only way we’d all fit in is if we liquidized ourselves and someone poured us through the sunroof. So I take the backseat and we play a slow, careful game of Twister as eighteen feet of human being is folded up inside the car.

  We get the giggles halfway through, and this helps nothing except it makes me feel a lot better. I don’t remember the last time I laughed. I think it was pre-shark.

  chapter 30

  Lav

  Are you OK? Millie says you cut school with Roman and Pete? You are aware this is the Worst Idea Ever?

  Lou

  Gabe’s ill, I went to see him. I’ll be back by the end of lunch!

  Lav

  OK. Stay away from fish.

  We get to Roman and Gabe’s house—Ro lets himself in, Pete follows behind, clearly at home here, and I suddenly feel a bit shy.

  It’s bigger than our house, I notice as I walk in, but not as swanky as Hannah’s.

  “Gabe! Lou’s here, are you decent?”

  “Lou? Really?”

  “Yes! Get dressed!” I call up the stairs. I hope his mom isn’t in; that was dangerously close to flirty.

  Gabe is dressed but sitting on his bed surrounded by stacks of books and a laptop. I don’t hug him, because it feels weird—he’s in bed. Instead, I sit on the end of the bed and squeeze his leg.

  “How are you?” we ask at the same time, and laugh.

  “Better.”

  “Better.” (Golden rule: never too many words with boys, even really nice ones.)

  The four of us sit and talk for a little. I have to ask them: “Did you go to the tryout? I mean it’s cool if you had to go without me. Fine. Really.”

  They all look awkward. Roman speaks first.

  “Me and Gabe were suspended. I thought we’d be expelled; the three us were nearly charged with assault. And then Gabe got ill and we barely noticed the day of the tryouts.”

  “I told my parents!” I protest, shocked. “I said the bruises were me being clumsy when I sneaked out and that I fainted because I was … coming down with something.”

  “What were you coming down with?” Gabe asks, and Roman and Pete look at me.

  Of course, now I have their full attention. When I’m trying to teach them how to dive neatly, no one listens, but for this they’re all ears.

  “Girl,” I tell Gabe. “I was coming down with a case of Girl Things.”

  “Are you going to get better?”

  “No. It’s terminal Girl. I may have to buy a dress.”

  “Anyway!” Pete interrupts. Clearly, he’d rather talk about getting arrested than my fascinating biology. Fair enough. “You were unconscious for hours.”

  “We were really worried,” Ro says sweetly.

  “Yeah, for us and you,” Pete scoffs. “It looked like we’d abducted you and beaten you up. In an aquarium. Like weird, violent thugs.”

  “Did you not tell them the truth?” I ask.

  They look at me.

  “Hey, Officer,” Ro begins. “We were practicing underwater synchronized swimming.… No, it’s not technically a Thing. We made it up.”

  “And we broke into an aquarium…” Gabe adds.

  “With a girl I only just discovered was a bizarrely tall child…” Pete splutters.

  “Hey!” I protest.

  “… to fool around in a fish tank with some eels,” Roman concludes.

  “The police didn’t believe you, then,” I guess.

  “It sounded so crazy, they drug-tested us!” Gabe says indignantly.

  I can’t help laughing. It does sound like a surreal excuse for breaking into an aquarium. Then I remember something that hasn’t crossed my mind since the hospital.

  “Hey! Want to see you guys swimming in the tank?” I ask. “I filmed it.”

  “No way!” Excited, they crowd around my phone, but it’s being stupid and slow. The video is taking up too much memory.

  “Hang on, I’ll delete it.”

  “I want to see it!” Pete whines.

  “No, it’s cool, I uploaded it to YouTube. I didn’t tag any of us in it,” I add, seeing the looks on their faces. “No one from school will find it. You’re still cool, guys, don’t worry.”

  I find the URL in my history, click it, and leave it loading slowly, propped up against the window, and promise them they can watch it soon.

  “You need an iPhone,” Pete tuts.

  “Not now I’ve lost my job,” I tell him.

  I catch sight of the time and realize I’m already running late for my afternoon classes. I have to get back! Just as I’m grabbing my backpack and Pete is getting his keys, there’s a bang of the front door. Roman and Gabe look at each other and I can tell it’s a parent.

  I hold on to my backpack straps and feel nervous.

  Light footsteps run up the stairs, and a small, elegant woman pops her head around the door. Her eyes go straight to me.

  “Um, hello, I’m Louise, hi!” I blurt.

  I feel so awkward—I wonder if she thinks of me as the person who got both her sons locked in a police cell. It was a bad night for me, but I bet it wasn’t one for her family album either.

  But as soon as Gabe and Ro’s mom sees me, she steps across the room and hugs me gently. My bruises thank her for that.

  “Are you OK?” she asks.

  “I am, yes, thank you. I’m sorry everything…” I trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

  “I’m sorry my boys were so irresponsible,” she says. “I know they would never hurt you, but they were thoughtless and that caused you to get hurt.”

  Nicely put. I feel like she’s untangled a knot in my head and I start feeling less guilty.

  “I have to get back to school,” I say. “I’m sorry!”

  “Yes, of course.” Pete holds up his car keys.

  “Can I jump in and pick up some homework?” Gabe asks. “I really need to get out of the house.”

  “OK,” says his mom, but she points a warning finger at Pete. “Drive. Carefully.”

  Gabe gets up stiffly and pulls a hoodie on. We all head downstairs, me first. I don’t want him to feel shy about me seeing how weak he is. We head out to the car.

  Gabe gets into the car first and I clamber into the backseat next to him, trying not to shove my butt in his face.

  Roman looks at him anxiously. “Are you cold?”

  “I’m fine,” Gabe protests, but Roman chucks a blanket over his legs anyway. I tuck it in tightly so he can’t move his legs, just to be anno
ying.

  We’re pulling out of the driveway (really slowly, in case Gabe and Roman’s mom is watching) when she appears at the front door, waving my phone, which I left on the windowsill.

  “Thank you!” I shout as she throws my phone through the window. “Nice to meet you!”

  “I’ll feed you next time!” she promises.

  I grab my phone as it falls, and I see that the video has uploaded.

  “Ah, look, here you are!” I say, and hand it forward. “This is you guys in the aquarium.” Ro holds up the phone so that he and Pete can see it in the front and Gabe can see it in the back.

  The video begins. And the boys in the front suddenly lean forward, blocking our view of the screen.

  “Hey!” I protest.

  “Down in front!” Gabe prods his brother in the back.

  “Wait. But…” Pete looks at Roman, then at us. “We have over a million views.”

  We all bang heads as we lurch forward to see.… One million three hundred twenty-two thousand views.

  “How … just how?” They all turn to me. It wasn’t me—I have barely any social media. It must all be down to other people. I look on my phone. It was chosen as a Pick of the Week on a couple of websites, some people stumbled upon it and shared it, an actor tweeted about it, a DJ and a model liked it.… Basically, my little video traveled around the world, rubbing shoulders with the stars, while I was moping in bed with a hot-water bottle. Mental.

  Roman starts whooping and banging his seat, the roof, Pete.… We all join in until Pete’s poor little Mini is rocking and making noises of complaint.

  I glance round to see if their mom has heard us. I want to tell Mom and Dad and Lav, but first I hug our fame to us—just for now it’s our secret.

  “Who cares about BHT, huh?” I say.

  “Damn right,” says Pete. “A million people have seen us already.”

  “Thanks to you, Lou,” says Roman unexpectedly. “You’re a genius. I don’t know how you came up with those ideas. I’m sorry we never said it before.”

  “I had help. From you guys and…” Feeling mischievous, I pull Swimming for Women and the Infirm out of my backpack and flip it open. I can see from their faces that they recognize some of the moves.

  “Never tell anyone about that,” Roman says firmly, and Pete agrees.

  “Deal,” I say cockily. “If you pay my library fine. It’s massive.”

  Gabe is still looking at my phone.

  “Don’t look at the comments!” I warn him.

  “Why not?” Pete asks.

  “Because Life Lessons 101, don’t read what people say about you on the Internet?”

  “Wimp,” he scoffs, and scrolls down.

  The comments are amazing. There are a couple of mean ones, and some people accuse us of fish abuse, but mainly they say Roman is gorgeous, Gabe’s cute, and Pete’s got massive feet. I’d never noticed that before, and I sneak a peek but he catches me looking.

  “Size fifteen,” he says a little huffily.

  When we get tired of reading nice things about the boys and the routine (which takes a while), we all sit back in our seats and breathe a happy sigh. One. Million. Views.

  “At least something good came out of the aquarium,” I say.

  “Worth getting arrested for,” Pete agrees.

  “And suspended,” Roman joins in.

  “Relapsing,” Gabe adds.

  “I’m still having nightmares about sharks,” I lie. “So I win.”

  “School!” Gabe says, catching sight of the time, and Pete starts the car again and prepares to drive off. A second later he stops, frowning at his rearview mirror.

  “Is your mom OK?” he asks. We all look behind us to see Roman and Gabe’s mom chasing down the road after us. But this time she’s waving the house phone.

  “I don’t know,” says Roman, “hang on.” He gets out of the car and jogs back to her. She gives him the phone and watches him take a call.

  Pete goes to join them, leaving me and Gabriel sitting in the back of the car like a pair of muppets.

  “The seat in front of me doesn’t tip forward, but I think yours does,” he says.

  “That’s all right,” I yawn. I suddenly feel so tired. I guess it’s been my first day out of bed in a week, and a lot has happened.

  Gabriel rests his head on my shoulder and I rest my head on top of his. The silence goes on and on, but it doesn’t get awkward. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever felt with a boy. I close my eyes. Even though I’m wondering what’s happening outside, the heat of the car is making me drowsy.

  Suddenly Pete and Roman are rocking the car, opening the front doors and shouting. It’s the worst way I’ve ever been woken up, including the time Gran’s cat puked on my forehead. Gabe and I both yelp and clutch each other. I let go of him very quickly as Pete and Roman smirk at us over the backs of the front seats.

  “That was Britain’s Hidden Talent on the phone. They saw our video, they love it, and they want us to come and try out! We have one more chance! I told them we have nothing to swim in,” adds Roman before I can open my mouth, “and they say don’t worry about it, they’ll figure it.”

  I’m awake now, really awake, and I’m clutching Gabe’s arm again.

  “Wh-when?” I splutter.

  “This weekend. We have four days.”

  I look across at Gabriel. He’s smiling but already shaking his head.

  “I won’t be well enough,” he says. My stomach sinks and I try not to show how disappointed I am. Just for one second it was like the last terrible week had never happened.

  “Hey,” I say weakly, “that’s OK. It’s just a dumb TV show for—”

  “No.” He interrupts me. “You swim for me. You have to, you know everything I do and you’re a stronger swimmer anyway.”

  “But … but,” I stammer.

  “No buts. And you chose the Lycra, so it’s your own fault you have to wear it.”

  I’m dry-mouthed with shock. But there’s a familiar feeling in my stomach. A tangy, bubbly feeling. It’s competitiveness. Hello, old friend.

  The boys pile back in the car and we play drum and bass loudly, shouting along to it with happy whoops. There are no words to drum and bass; it’s basically noise, so you just shout what feels right. It’s a lot of fun. Especially when it starts raining hard and the thundering on the roof adds to the deranged feeling.

  I breathe in deeply. This car smells of hair product and empty cheese curl bags. I reflect that I will never smell a cheese curl again without feeling nostalgic for this autumn with my friends.

  And then I think that that was quite a weird thought and wonder how many brain cells you lose when you head-butt a shark tank.

  chapter 31

  Roman

  Lou, I just realized you can’t wear Gabe’s competition outfit, can you?

  Lou

  No, Ro, because I am a girl and …

  Gabe

  Awks.

  Lou

  That’s cool. I have tons of bathing suits. If you’re sure you can’t do it, Gabe?

  Gabe

  Sorry. You’ll have to be the TV star.

  Lou

  I feel sick.

  Pete

  Think how we feel, we’ve got to lift you out of the water now. You’re like a Gabe and a half.

  Roman

  What a gent.

  Lou

  Swoon.

  Gabe.

  No. More. Fainting.

  I get back to school half an hour late for my afternoon class, but it’s English and I guess Mr. Peters assumes I was skulking in the library, trying to stay out of the way of gossip, because he taps his watch but doesn’t mention it. Mom’s right—he does have nice eyes, I think, grateful I’m not in any more trouble.

  Teachers seem to be lenient on me all week, probably because my face still looks so battered. This is useful because I’m back to nodding off in classes, thanks to swim training every evening. Thankfully, we’re managin
g to avoid Debs, as I’m sure she’d book the pool every evening if she knew we were still planning to compete.

  Gabe persuades Pete to be a “honey trap,” which I find very funny once I find out what it means. Basically, Pete has to do some tactical flirting with Cammie to find out what she and her team are up to. Practicing every evening in some swanky private members’ pool that Nicole’s dad owns. Whoop-de-doo for them. It leaves the public one free for us at least.

  I hear from Gabe who hears from Ro that Pete might go on a date with Cammie. He thinks she’s “really sweet.” Ha. Sweet like a snake, I tell Gabe, and hope the message heads back the way it came.

  I suggest we train first thing in the morning, too, but wow, if I thought Pete was a grumpy ass normally, that’s nothing compared to how he is in the morning. We all agree to never do that again. As Gabe says, bundled up in sweaters and watching from the bench, the routine will look a little off if one of the swimmers has killed the other two.

  Pete started driving me home from practice. Dad was skeptical at first, but Pete waits until I get to the front door and then waves before driving off. Dad seems to appreciate the etiquette.

  We’re just coming back from our last practice when my phone rings. It’s Lav. She doesn’t bother to say hi.

  “Lou, have you heard from Hannah?”

  “No,” I say, and then think. “Actually, I haven’t—since I asked if I should tell her parents.” I start to feel hot with guilt. “It’s just so much has happened—”

  “Someone’s called the house phone a couple of times but hung up when we answered. Have you got any missed calls from her?”

  “No,” I say. Just as my phone starts beeping with messages. I take it away from my ear to look. Six missed calls from Hannah. Argh. Great timing. We get no reception poolside. “Hold on, let me try her.”

  I hang up on Lav and call Hannah, but it goes straight to voice mail. I try a few more times, but either her phone is off or she’s poolside too (highly likely). I glance up. We’re at my house, and the boys are all looking at me. I briefly explain.

  We pull into the driveway and I jump out. To my surprise, the boys follow.

  “Can we do anything?” asks Roman, helping Gabe out of the car.

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I don’t know what’s going on.” I’m fumbling for my keys. Mom’s already opening the front door. “Mom!” I say. “This is Roman and Pete and Gabriel.”