by Seven Steps
I dive into the water, kicking as hard as I can. I have to win this. There’s no way I’m giving Vanessa the satisfaction of hearing me say that stupid chant.
No way in the world.
I push the water, then pull it again.
My fingers touch the wall, but I don’t stop. I throw myself back, ready to go into my final run.
My mind shrinks down until there’s only me and the water. Even the screams seem quieter.
I don’t know where Vanessa is. But I know I have to kick harder. Push harder. Be faster.
One. Two. Breathe. One. Two Breathe.
I have to touch the wall before her. There’s no other option.
One. Two. Breathe. One. Two. Breathe.
I swim so hard I nearly run head first in the wall. At the last second, I pop out of the water and look around for Vanessa.
She looks back at me, her smile wide.
It’s in that moment I know.
It’s written all over Vanessa’s stupid face.
I’ve lost.
My heart sinks to the bottom of the pool.
“Like I said, Ariel. There was never a doubt. You can never beat me. Not even on your best day.”
I slap the tile with one wet hand and bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood.
We climb out of the pool, and I stand there, wet and dripping and thoroughly angry and disappointed with myself.
This is going to suck.
Here I am, my breath coming in hard, my heart racing, and Vanessa barely looks winded.
I put my hands on my knees and suck in a breath, then let it back out, trying to calm my rising temper.
“Catch your breath, Ariel. You have some chanting to do.”
I growl and stand up straight. Even though I’d rather drown myself in the pool than chant her stupid name, I still gave her my word. It’s time to take my punishment.
I glance at my teammates. They look back at me with pity and empathy in their eyes.
I close my eyes in return and force myself to commit this moment to memory.
I will never let Vanessa beat me again. Ever.
“Okay, here we go.” She raises her hands high in the air, taking delight in my misery.
I glare hard at her.
“One. Two. Three.”
“Um-ma,” I say quietly.
She pouts.
“Come on. You can do better than that. Try again.”
I clear my throat and try not to think of punching Vanessa in her perfect teeth.
“Um-ma.”
She shakes her head.
“I don’t think you’re getting in. Come one. One more time. With feeling.” She smiles slyly. “If you do it right this time, I’ll be merciful and let you go.”
Is this mercy? God help us all.
I grit my teeth, ready to get this over with.
“One. Two. Three.”
“Um-ma!”
She looks as if she just won another Olympic gold medal.
“Remember that name, Ariel. There’s power in it. Can you feel it? Can you feel the power? Come on. Say it again.”
My hands ball into fists, and I force myself to march away before I do something I’ll regret.
I need to get out of here. I need some air.
“Hey, Ariel, wait up.” Michael jogs to catch up with me, Sophia behind him. The tall boy she’s been with is already gone. That was fast.
“You were fast out there.” His beautiful eyes dampen my anger a bit. “You were like a bullet,” he continues. “Shame that you’re not on the team anymore.”
I let out a breath. “Yeah. Don’t remind me.”
“It kind of sucks when you’re not there.”
He runs a hand over my cheek, and I blush. I’m still upset at my loss, but Michael is turning out to be a pretty good distraction.
He takes my hand. This time, his hands aren’t so cold. They actually feel kind of nice.
“Come on. We can play a game of pool polo.”
I consider this. “Do I get to bean Vanessa with the ball?”
He holds up both hands. “Who am I to stop you?”
Feeling calmer, Michael pulls me back to the pool, and we jump in the water.
Within minutes, I’m drowning my troubles in pool polo, Michael’s beauty, and cheap shots at Vanessa that give me oh so much joy.
17
I yawn and stretch my way through school the next day. When it’s time to go to business class, my stomach sinks.
This is only my second day, but I know I’m going to fail the class. I don’t have a head for business or numbers or any of this stuff. I’m a swimmer. Not a cubical monkey.
Halfway through a lecture on business models, I ask to be excused to go to the bathroom. Mrs. Fleck doesn’t argue, probably because she doesn’t want me in the class anyway. On my way to the bathroom I stop by the pool and, being that I’m forbidden from going inside during practice—thanks, Dad—I run my hands along the blue steel door.
If only I could make my father understand. This is where I belong. This is what makes sense. I don’t belong in an office. I belong in the water.
I put my forehead against the cool door and sigh.
“Sorry. Swim team only.”
Vanessa’s voice grates on my nerves. I step back from the door, angry at myself that she’s seen me in such a vulnerable moment. Girls like Vanessa can’t be trusted with moments like this. They use it for ammunition, and she has enough of that on me already.
“Maybe one day you’ll be worthy to rejoin the team, but after last night’s performance, I can see you’re not ready.”
“And I can see you still need three people to hold up your ego.” I jerk my chin at Florence and Janice.
“When you’re as good as me, you can’t help but have an ego.”
“You’re not as good as you think you are,” I growl. “And one day, I’m going to prove it.”
She steps around me and opens the door.
“But that day isn’t today. Enjoy class, loser.”
She and her cronies cackle, and I’m so mad I swear I see red.
I stomp away from the locker room, slide into my seat, and wonder when life has gone so wrong.
18
Sixty-seven.
The numbers are circled and written in red at the edge of the quiz paper.
The quiz was based on last night’s homework. The fact that I got a sixty-seven without doing last night’s homework was a miracle.
Too bad that a passing grade was a ninety. We were supposed to be the best of the best after all.
The bell rings, and I slide out of my seat and walk out into the hallway.
“Hey.”
Eric catches up with me. I’m cranky from Vanessa’s constant poking and exhausted from the party last night, but I slow my pace anyway, and we fall into a slow amble down the hallway.
“How’d you do on your test?” he asks.
“You first.”
He pulls a paper out of his binder and holds it up to me.
Ninety-two.
Great. Not only am I failing, but Eric, who doesn’t want to be there just as much as me, is passing.
I throw my head back and continue walking, not bothering to show him my paper.
“I guess that means you failed,” he says.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask bitterly.
He clears his throat and jams his paper back into his binder.
“If you need me to tutor you or something, I can. Whenever you want. Nights, weekends, after school, before school—”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He shrugs, his eyes innocent. “What?”
“Why are you being nice to me?”
He scoffs. “Am I not supposed to be? We’re still friends, right?”
“Friends?”
“Yeah. You said it yourself, remember? We’re friends.”
I stop walking and turn to him. His dark hair is a mess, and his eyes are tired.
“
Late night?” I ask.
He nods slowly. “You could say that. You?”
I smile weakly. “You could say that.”
I stop and lean against a locker as a stream of teenagers flows out of the building. Eric leans on the locker next to me. We’re silent for a long time. It’s comfortable. Easy. Our eyes study each other, and I see longing in his eyes.
“You miss football?”
One of his eyebrows rises. “Do you miss swimming?”
That’s my answer. Yes.
“So, what are we going to do about it, friend?” I emphasize the last word.
His gives me a wisp of a smile. I wish he’d smile at me like he used to.
“What can we do about it?”
I shrug. “Fight back. Refuse to do what they want us to do. Tell them we’re not going to fit into their mold.”
He just stares at me, not answering.
“Will you promise me something?” I ask.
“Anything.”
I close my eyes against the shiver that races down my spine with that one word. It takes me another moment before I can look at him again.
“If I find a way out of this class, you’ll come with me. And if you find a way out, you’ll take me with you.”
His lets out a short laugh, then pushes off the locker. “We’ll get out of this, together.”
He holds out his hand.
I push off the locker too and put my hand in his.
“Deal.”
We stand in the hallway, hand in hand, exhaustion playing with our inhibitions.
His eyes are stormy blue today. Familiar. Mesmerizing.
I take a step forward.
So does he.
His eyes drop to my lips. Mine drop to his.
I want this.
I miss Eric, but I didn’t know until that moment how much.
He cranes his head and bends down a little.
I close my eyes, my heart banging in my chest.
I’m too tired to fight him right now.
That is us.
Two souls tired of fighting each other. Tired of struggling to pull apart from each other when all we want is to be whole again.
His hands go to back of my neck, and I exhale, ready to feel his lips against mine. Ready to come back home to his arms.
His lips are a breath away.
We’re so close.
Too close.
“Ariel, we’re going.”
I jump back so high I swear I almost touch the ceiling.
Sophia’s voice calls me back to reality.
Eric has a girlfriend. What am I doing? What is he doing?
I take another step back.
My face flashes hot, and I turn, sprinting down the hall and away from Eric Shipman.
19
Two huge burgers are sitting in front of Michael and Sophia, while I choke down a salad that’s already turning brown.
We’ve decided to grab a bite to eat at Downtown Eats, a fifties style burger joint close to school.
“So, you don’t eat any meat?” Michael asks.
“Yup. No meat.”
I look back down at my salad. I feel guilty sitting across from Michael after what has almost happened with Eric in the hallway. It’s hard not to think about Eric. The way he smelled. How I feel so at home when I’m with him.
How he has a girlfriend who, at this very moment, is probably making out with him like there’s no tomorrow.
I bite the inside of my cheek and force myself to focus on Michael and his beautiful eyes, and not on the dark-haired boy who seems to haunt me.
“Have you ever eaten meat before?”
“A long time ago. My dad and I stopped eating meat after—”
“So, if you were starving and there was only a steak to eat, you wouldn’t eat it?”
I scoff and look at Sophia. She’s dipping her fries into her hot chocolate and looking out the window.
“I don’t know. Just, right now, I don’t eat it.”
His eyes narrow, as if I’ve just challenged him somehow instead of telling him a basic fact about my life.
“We’ll see about that.”
I frown. What does that mean?
Before I can question him, he switches subjects.
“So, when you’re not eating meat, what do you do for fun?”
I let out a breath, thankful that our conversation has moved into less controversial waters.
“Well, I like to swim, of course, and hang out with my sisters.”
“Sisters?”
I pull my phone from my pocket.
“Yeah. I have six.”
I go to my photos and show him a family picture we’ve taken last Christmas. All six of us were there, along with my three brothers-in-law, my nephew Charlie, and Daddy.
He takes my phone and examines the picture.
“Which one is your mom?” he asks.
“My mom died six years ago.”
He looks surprised, then his mouth opens and closes like a fish. I can immediately tell he’s uncomfortable with the subject.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, handing the phone back to me. “How did she die?”
My stomach drops a little, but I put on a brave face and try to hide it.
“She drowned. Some drunk, college kids in a speed boat.”
I remember the day Mama died. Even in death she was beautiful, with her red hair fanning around her lifeless, broken face. Almost like a mermaid.
I take a long gulp of water, cooling my hot throat.
Michael gives me a pitied look. A look I’ve seen too often in my life. I’m sure it’s the same look people give cancer patients who are at the end of their lives. A mix of, I’m so sorry and I hope that never happens to me.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“Thanks.”
Talking about Mama constricts my neck, and I ease the sensation by eating a small mouthful of the aged salad. The table turns awkwardly quiet, which I expect. Talking about death makes people reflect on their own lives. It shows them they aren’t immortal, even though, deep down, everyone believes they are.
I push my salad away and force a smile onto my face.
“Well, I have to get back before my dad calls the president.”
Michael’s mouth slacks open.
“Your dad knows the president?”
I nod. “He’s on some business council or something.”
“Have you met him?”
“Not yet. I’m not in a rush to either. If I was old enough, I would have voted for the other guy.”
Michael gives me a weird look then slides out of the booth.
Great. Based on our conversations so far, and what happened at school, he must think I’m some unpatriotic boy chaser who’s destined to live in a weirdo vegan commune or something.
Why is this so hard?
I slide out of the booth, then walk around the table and put my hand on Sophia’s shoulder. She’s been facing the window for the last several minutes.
When she feels my touch, she immediately jumps and lets out a shriek.
“Jeez, Ariel!” She grabs her heaving chest, her face wide in surprise.
“Sorry,” I say. “We’re heading out and you have the keys.”
“Oh. Right.”
Sophia does this weird thing where she wishes on Volkswagen Beetles. I’ve heard of people punching each other when they saw the cars, but I’ve never known them to wish on them until I met Sophia. I wonder if that’s what she was doing this whole time.
Wishing.
She stands up and brushes French fry crumbs off her jeans.
I want to ask what she wished for, but it seems too personal. Maybe it’s about her mom. Maybe it’s about boys or school. Or maybe it’s something else entirely.
I take her hand and squeeze.
“Did your wish come true?” I ask.
She gives me a hopeful look.
“I hope so.”
∞∞∞
RETURN TO SAVE
POINT.
This is the third time I’ve died in Ogre Wars in the last fifteen minutes. The third time that a patrol of five ogres has taken out Sanza Crutev and Daniel Pike.
Crap on a stick.
This should be easier. Daniel and I have taken out patrols double this size without blinking an eye. But these five monsters are kicking our butts, and I know why.
It’s the speaker indicator on the bottom of the screen. Every time it jumps, my heart jumps right along with it.
The memory of my almost kiss in the hallway is messing with my mind. If Sophia hadn’t stopped us, our relationship would have gotten infinitely more complicated.
The worst part is, I wanted to kiss him, knowing full well he has a girlfriend.
Does that make me a terrible person? What did Eric want me to say to him? How did he expect me to react? Does Purity know? Should I tell Michael?
I roll my head back as the questions roll through me and the speaker indicator continues to taunt me.
Ugh!
I wish we could just play the game and not talk. The more we talk, the harder it is for me. But, the fact is he knows I’m online, obviously, and he’s talking to me, which means he knows I’m ignoring him.
I let out a breath and tap my headphones.
“Tired of getting murdered by ogres yet?”
“Murder? No, we were just having a disagreement.”
“Is that what all the blood and guts was about?”
“Well, I never said it was a polite disagreement.”
He chuckles. “You’re off your game tonight, Red. Or should I say, Sanza?”
“It’s not like Daniel Pike has been much help.”
“I think Daniel’s a little distracted.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Why?” The word comes out slightly hoarse and rough.
“You first.”
I can practically hear the dare in his voice. My mouth goes dry as words I can’t speak run through my mind.
Because I wanted to kiss you today.
Because you have a girlfriend.
Because I’m trying to let go of you.
“Red? You there?”
I push my joystick back, blocking an ogre’s attack, then pull out my Billy and stab him in the heart. That’s how I feel right now. Like someone is stabbing me in the heart.
“I’m here.”
“You got quiet on me. More distractions?”
