was dripping like blood and then I went running around the tree screaming about Satan. I wanted them to think I worshipped devils so I was chanting and singing. I told them my name was Evil McFrenzy and I drew a big pentagram right next to the tree!!!! They were just going bizonkers, so freaked out by what I was doing, and they forgot all about the past and I was like yesssssss! FINALLY!!!!
-C
4
One afternoon in mid-July when I was picking up Callie, I noticed that her hair was damp and there were wet bathing-suit marks on her T-shirt. “They finally got you in the water!” I exclaimed, patting her moist shoulder. I pictured her paddling around Ella’s lake, joyfully overcoming her phobia.
“I wasn’t swimming,” Callie corrected me. “I just got splashed.”
Every kid has her own quirks, and Callie’s was to claim to hate water. Pools, the ocean, innocent babbling brooks. She swore she didn’t know how to swim, even though I remembered when Joyce had taught her. I’d offered her lessons hundreds of times, but she was staunch in her refusals.
“Wouldn’t it be cool if you took private lessons?” I asked, as we reversed out of Ella’s driveway. “You could surprise your friends with your expert strokes.”
“I’m not swimming.” Callie snapped her gum. “Don’t sign me up. I won’t go.”
“But you could just learn a few basics. For your own safety. What if you fell out of Ella’s canoe? You can’t always rely on your friends to save you.”
Callie yanked her seat belt forcefully, like she might leap out of my car. “I don’t go out in the canoe. I haven’t done that in years.”
“But I want you to be able to. I don’t want you missing out.”
“Why do you care so much? It’s just—stupid.”
She pressed her head against the passenger window, leaving a web of moisture, and I knew I should just drop it before this turned into a fight. We’d only recently made peace after the incident at Dallas’s party. Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to talk to the rock star—the kingly VIP. Callie had accused me of overreacting, and I’d tried to convince her I was justified, describing his nauseating leer in lengthy detail. But she still claimed I’d ruined the party—embarrassed her, embarrassed myself.
“Look, I’m not going to force you in the water,” I said. “But for me, summer means swimming. All those days when your mom and I went to the beach, doing handstands in the sea.”
“Well, that’s disgusting,” she said, “because you
knew
what was in that water.”
I thought she meant the sewage—the regular overflows in Long Island Sound.
“That girl you thought was kidnapped,” she continued. “What was her name?”
Autumn Sanger was the last person who the hyacinth girls tried to rescue. We were thirteen years old when Lara’s friend disappeared.
“Is that why you’re scared of the water?” I regretted having told her that story. Callie sometimes absorbed the wrong details, changing the message I’d meant to pass on.
“I’m not scared,” she said. “But I know people die in the water.” I could smell her peppermint gum as she worked it vigorously between her jaws.
“People die everywhere,” I spoke carefully. “You can’t avoid everywhere.”
“Just because you loved swimming doesn’t mean I have to. Your childhood wasn’t so perfect. You forget all the bad stuff.”
“Look, Miss Sass. I didn’t forget anything. But even the bad stuff wasn’t that bad. We were so carefree, anything seemed possible.”
“So you accused some old guy of kidnapping and broke into his basement.”
I slowed down the car, not bothering to brake smoothly. She really had a bee in her bonnet today. The joys of being fourteen.
“You’re remembering that story wrong. I never went in any guy’s basement. We were in his house for less than five minutes.”
“Trespassing,” she said. “You probably scared him to death.”
“We were trying to do the right thing. We
-C
4
One afternoon in mid-July when I was picking up Callie, I noticed that her hair was damp and there were wet bathing-suit marks on her T-shirt. “They finally got you in the water!” I exclaimed, patting her moist shoulder. I pictured her paddling around Ella’s lake, joyfully overcoming her phobia.
“I wasn’t swimming,” Callie corrected me. “I just got splashed.”
Every kid has her own quirks, and Callie’s was to claim to hate water. Pools, the ocean, innocent babbling brooks. She swore she didn’t know how to swim, even though I remembered when Joyce had taught her. I’d offered her lessons hundreds of times, but she was staunch in her refusals.
“Wouldn’t it be cool if you took private lessons?” I asked, as we reversed out of Ella’s driveway. “You could surprise your friends with your expert strokes.”
“I’m not swimming.” Callie snapped her gum. “Don’t sign me up. I won’t go.”
“But you could just learn a few basics. For your own safety. What if you fell out of Ella’s canoe? You can’t always rely on your friends to save you.”
Callie yanked her seat belt forcefully, like she might leap out of my car. “I don’t go out in the canoe. I haven’t done that in years.”
“But I want you to be able to. I don’t want you missing out.”
“Why do you care so much? It’s just—stupid.”
She pressed her head against the passenger window, leaving a web of moisture, and I knew I should just drop it before this turned into a fight. We’d only recently made peace after the incident at Dallas’s party. Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to talk to the rock star—the kingly VIP. Callie had accused me of overreacting, and I’d tried to convince her I was justified, describing his nauseating leer in lengthy detail. But she still claimed I’d ruined the party—embarrassed her, embarrassed myself.
“Look, I’m not going to force you in the water,” I said. “But for me, summer means swimming. All those days when your mom and I went to the beach, doing handstands in the sea.”
“Well, that’s disgusting,” she said, “because you
knew
what was in that water.”
I thought she meant the sewage—the regular overflows in Long Island Sound.
“That girl you thought was kidnapped,” she continued. “What was her name?”
Autumn Sanger was the last person who the hyacinth girls tried to rescue. We were thirteen years old when Lara’s friend disappeared.
“Is that why you’re scared of the water?” I regretted having told her that story. Callie sometimes absorbed the wrong details, changing the message I’d meant to pass on.
“I’m not scared,” she said. “But I know people die in the water.” I could smell her peppermint gum as she worked it vigorously between her jaws.
“People die everywhere,” I spoke carefully. “You can’t avoid everywhere.”
“Just because you loved swimming doesn’t mean I have to. Your childhood wasn’t so perfect. You forget all the bad stuff.”
“Look, Miss Sass. I didn’t forget anything. But even the bad stuff wasn’t that bad. We were so carefree, anything seemed possible.”
“So you accused some old guy of kidnapping and broke into his basement.”
I slowed down the car, not bothering to brake smoothly. She really had a bee in her bonnet today. The joys of being fourteen.
“You’re remembering that story wrong. I never went in any guy’s basement. We were in his house for less than five minutes.”
“Trespassing,” she said. “You probably scared him to death.”
“We were trying to do the right thing. We
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