jerk. It was a dead-on imitation of his father.
I said little to anyone the whole time we were in the van. Tru said nothing to me.
The parking lot was almost empty. It was supposed to rain today, though right now the sun was blazing. The six of us gathered our things and headed down to the water.
We were the only family I knew who called this place the beach. I liked it here, always had, even if it maybe wasnât much. The water stretched about as far as a neighborhood pool and was edged by the smallest ring of fine white sand. Beyond that was a collection of splintery picnic benches and crusted-over grills. A wooden signpost explained how the swimming hole was once a quarry. They had mined iron ore here for decades, and when the work was done, the hole filled naturally with spring water. The deepest points went fifty feet down.
A few makeshift paper signs warned that the lifeguards werenât on duty for another week. Looking around I saw a mom with her toddler, an elderly couple hiding under an umbrella, a few scattered families like ours. We settled on a picnic bench that was tattooed with pen marks and pockmarked with old gum. Mom and Dad said they were going on a hike, and headed immediately toward one of the paths off in the trees. The four of us watched their retreat.
âSo, wait,â Jimmy asked as soon as they were out of earshot. âWe came all the way here, and theyâre not even going to swim in the shitty hole?â
Tru took off for the little pavilion that had the bathrooms and soda machines. The twins stretched out on the benches and put on their sunglasses, looking ready to fall asleep.
With no one paying attention, I stripped down to my suit andwent straight for the quarry. I flew across the grass and through the sand, but came up short as my toes touched water. From there I walked in gently, feet clinging to the gritty land as it sloped away. I hung on until the last moment, standing on the very tips of my toes, chin just above the water line. Then I dove.
The water was fresh, clean, ice-cold. The butterfly was my best stroke, and thatâs what I practiced, keeping close to the surface and moving in circles. Sucking in my breath, I forced my body to sink down under, but didnât open my eyes. I never opened my eyes here because there were fish and turtles, sometimes snakes. I didnât like to think about them. Still, I used to like hiding down there in the darkness. I liked how alone it made me feel, even if it was a little scary.
Today, though, I couldnât find the magic in it. I only felt chilled, annoyed by this odd little place, which looked dumpier today than ever before. Maybe Jimmy and Kieran were right about it. And even if Tru acted happy to be here, I was sure he probably agreed.
Breaking the surface, I began to tread and turned back to look for everyone.
Jimmy and Kieran hadnât moved. Mom and Dad were nowhere to be seen. And Tru . . . Tru was still at the pavilion. He was leaning against the soda machine, talking to a couple of girls. They looked about my age, maybe older, and were barefoot, wearing loose little dresses over their bikinis. Both of them seemed to be posing, and one kept playing with her hair. Jealousy took over before I could stop it, even though I knew that was ridiculousâifanything I should be laughing at them, their clueless flirting. I told myself not to be stupid, but I couldnât stop thinking about last night at Siren, hoping that more nights like that were waiting.
I hadnât thought of the possibility that someone else might come along, take my place.
Now Tru was gesturing toward the water, and the three of them turned in my direction. I leaned back, gently floating. I assumed this position would show just how little I cared.
I stayed in until I was cold and wrinkly. When I finally emerged, I came back to our picnic bench to find it empty. Mom and Dad were still hiking. Jimmy and Kieran had been pulled into a
I said little to anyone the whole time we were in the van. Tru said nothing to me.
The parking lot was almost empty. It was supposed to rain today, though right now the sun was blazing. The six of us gathered our things and headed down to the water.
We were the only family I knew who called this place the beach. I liked it here, always had, even if it maybe wasnât much. The water stretched about as far as a neighborhood pool and was edged by the smallest ring of fine white sand. Beyond that was a collection of splintery picnic benches and crusted-over grills. A wooden signpost explained how the swimming hole was once a quarry. They had mined iron ore here for decades, and when the work was done, the hole filled naturally with spring water. The deepest points went fifty feet down.
A few makeshift paper signs warned that the lifeguards werenât on duty for another week. Looking around I saw a mom with her toddler, an elderly couple hiding under an umbrella, a few scattered families like ours. We settled on a picnic bench that was tattooed with pen marks and pockmarked with old gum. Mom and Dad said they were going on a hike, and headed immediately toward one of the paths off in the trees. The four of us watched their retreat.
âSo, wait,â Jimmy asked as soon as they were out of earshot. âWe came all the way here, and theyâre not even going to swim in the shitty hole?â
Tru took off for the little pavilion that had the bathrooms and soda machines. The twins stretched out on the benches and put on their sunglasses, looking ready to fall asleep.
With no one paying attention, I stripped down to my suit andwent straight for the quarry. I flew across the grass and through the sand, but came up short as my toes touched water. From there I walked in gently, feet clinging to the gritty land as it sloped away. I hung on until the last moment, standing on the very tips of my toes, chin just above the water line. Then I dove.
The water was fresh, clean, ice-cold. The butterfly was my best stroke, and thatâs what I practiced, keeping close to the surface and moving in circles. Sucking in my breath, I forced my body to sink down under, but didnât open my eyes. I never opened my eyes here because there were fish and turtles, sometimes snakes. I didnât like to think about them. Still, I used to like hiding down there in the darkness. I liked how alone it made me feel, even if it was a little scary.
Today, though, I couldnât find the magic in it. I only felt chilled, annoyed by this odd little place, which looked dumpier today than ever before. Maybe Jimmy and Kieran were right about it. And even if Tru acted happy to be here, I was sure he probably agreed.
Breaking the surface, I began to tread and turned back to look for everyone.
Jimmy and Kieran hadnât moved. Mom and Dad were nowhere to be seen. And Tru . . . Tru was still at the pavilion. He was leaning against the soda machine, talking to a couple of girls. They looked about my age, maybe older, and were barefoot, wearing loose little dresses over their bikinis. Both of them seemed to be posing, and one kept playing with her hair. Jealousy took over before I could stop it, even though I knew that was ridiculousâifanything I should be laughing at them, their clueless flirting. I told myself not to be stupid, but I couldnât stop thinking about last night at Siren, hoping that more nights like that were waiting.
I hadnât thought of the possibility that someone else might come along, take my place.
Now Tru was gesturing toward the water, and the three of them turned in my direction. I leaned back, gently floating. I assumed this position would show just how little I cared.
I stayed in until I was cold and wrinkly. When I finally emerged, I came back to our picnic bench to find it empty. Mom and Dad were still hiking. Jimmy and Kieran had been pulled into a
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