Bruiser by Neal Shusterman Page B

found it charming.
    â€œDid you see that handstand?” called Cody; and since I had actually seen feet flipping heavenward out of the corner of my eye, I said, “Much better. Keep practicing.”
    The water lily lady climbed out of the pool and smiled at me as she left, probably thinking Ah! Young love, as old people do. Now it was just the three of us in the pool.
    Brew was leaning back against the pool edge, content just to stand there. I reached toward him, and he reluctantly came away from the wall. “It’s best if you dunk all at once,” I suggested. “Get the shock over with; otherwise younever get used to the water.”
    â€œI’m fine this way.”
    Now that he stood in slightly deeper water, the edge of his shirt grazed the surface, becoming darker as it soaked in pool water. “I’ll race you to the far end,” I suggested.
    â€œNo,” he said. “I’m not very fast.”
    â€œSo I’ll just use my arms; I won’t kick.”
    â€œNo,” he said, “I really don’t want to.”
    I pulled him toward deeper water. “C’mon, it’s only twenty-five yards.”
    â€œNo!” he pulled his hand back from mine.
    I looked at him, feeling like I had been slapped in the face, but then I realized I was the one who had pushed it. Then before either of us could say anything, Cody chimed in.
    â€œBrew can’t swim, but I can! One, two, three—GO!” And he took off toward the far end of the pool.
    I looked at Brew, and he turned away. I could feel his humiliation like ripples in the water. “You really can’t swim?”
    He shook his head.
    â€œWell, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
    â€œLet’s just drop it, okay?”
    And suddenly I had an idea.
    â€œI’ll teach you to swim!” I said. Yes! It was absolutely perfect—and not just the answer to getting out of this awkward moment but also the ideal boy-girl bonding thing that becomes a musical montage in the movie version of our lives.
    But before I could figure out where to start our first lesson, Brew said, “I’ll be waiting in the stands.” Then he turned to wade out of the pool.
    â€œBut it will be fun! I promise!” He didn’t stop, so I reached for him and grabbed him, maybe a little too forcefully, because his feet slipped out from under him and he went down to his knees.
    â€œOops…”
    We were still in water that was shallow enough so that it wasn’t a problem, and he stood back up right away. But now his shirt had ridden up to his chest; and as he pulled it down, I got a brief glimpse of his body beneath the shirt. There was no taking back that glimpse. We both knew it.
    â€œDid I win?” Cody shouted from the deep end. This time I didn’t even answer him. I gave all my attention to Brewster.
    â€œThis was a bad idea,” he said. “We should go.”
    I reached for him again—this time more gently—and I took his hand, holding it in a way that I never had before. The same way he had held my ankle the other day. Gently. Like it was something precious and fragile, even though his hand was so large compared to mine. “Don’t go.”
    I could tell he just wanted to bolt. If he did, I wouldn’t stop him. I had already pushed and pulled him in directions he didn’t want to go. If he decided to leave, I resolved to let him. But he didn’t.
    I looked at his hand: His knuckles had scabs, but they weresoftened by the water. I gently reached over and touched his shirt.
    â€œDon’t…”
    â€œPlease,” I said. “Let me see.”
    â€œYou don’t want to see.”
    â€œDo you trust me?” I asked.
    In his eyes, I could see the battle going on inside him. The desire to hide a terrible secret fighting with the desire to set it free.
    He turned his back to me, and I thought he would leave then. But instead he stood, feet