Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“I can swim. I just don’t want to. I had… an incident a few years ago. In high school,” she murmurs, grabbing one arm with the other hand and ducking her head a little. “I don’t know why I thought it would be okay for me to go to a party when I’d never gone to one before. Mom kind of pushed me into it, which I’m sure does not come as a surprise.”
She’s right. It doesn’t. I keep my thoughts to myself, since it seems like she’s on a roll.
She’s staring at the water, and the lights from the pool dance over her face with every ripple on the surface. Leaning forward, she wraps her arms around her knees. “I was minding my own business. I wasn’t trying to talk to anybody. I wasn’t trying to show off. I just wanted to be there. For once. I wanted to be a part of something. But that was too much to ask.”
Her laughter is sharp, bitter. “I was sitting in a chair, kind of like this one, drinking a soda. I was still dressed. I felt uncomfortable, but I told myself to deal with it. I couldn’t just spend my whole life ignoring things that made me uncomfortable. That was what Mom always said to me, you know? I figured she was right, so I forced myself to sit there. Just to sit. Not to make conversation or flirt with any of the guys. I wouldn’t have known where to start.” Her gaze drops to the patio at her feet.
“What happened?” I ask, going to her, lowering myself into a chair next to her. Watching every move she makes, every twitch of her face.
She presses her lips together so tight they disappear while a shudder runs over her. “Two guys got a hold of me, one on each arm. And they were laughing, and everybody was cheering, and I didn’t know what was happening until they pulled me to the edge of the pool. I still thought they were joking because, you know, everybody was laughing and clapping. I almost started to laugh too—that’s the saddest part. I started to laugh because I honestly thought stupidly that we were all having fun together. I’m so ashamed of how stupid I was.”
She lifts a shoulder, then mumbles, “Then I realized they were going to throw me into the deep end. I started asking for them to stop, please stop, but they weren’t listening. They just… threw me in.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“And then there were these girls who were already in the water.” Now she’s talking faster, with an edge in her voice as anger leaks in and colors the story. “And I reached for one of them because I was panicking. My clothes were pulling me down, and I was trying to hold onto something to keep me floating, but all she did was shove me down. They took turns pushing me under the water. When I tried to get to the edge, they wouldn’t let me.” Her voice cracks before she shudders again.
“I still hear all of it so clearly in my head. And I was splashing and gulping water and then I went under again…”
Her eyes close and a single tear trickles down her cheek, sparkling like a jewel in the light dancing across her face. “And I was so sure I was going to die. I kept reaching out for help, and they kept shoving me, pushing me back under. I was so sure I was dying. And they didn’t care. An adult finally showed up and told them to stop playing around. Finally, they let me swim to the edge, and I pulled myself out. And you know what? They sounded disappointed. They really, honestly did.”
“Sick fucks,” I grunt in disgust.
I didn’t expect her head to snap around the way it does or for her eyes to blaze as brightly as they do. “Really? Are they? Because it seems like no matter where I go, no matter what I do, I end up being the butt of somebody’s joke. Somebody decides they’re going to make my life miserable just because I exist. Does that sound familiar?”
I don’t know what’s harder to believe: the way she was so quick to turn things around on me, or the fire in her voice. I’ve always known that fire had to exist in her. I’ve seen flashes of it before. But now it’s blazing, and it’s directed at me.
“I had my reasons.” And I still do, don’t I? Nothing has changed, really. Right?
“Everybody always thinks they’ve got their reasons. I never did anything to you to deserve the way you’ve treated me. And I’m not going to sit here now and listen to you justify yourself.”
She’s out of the chair and on her feet before I can say a word. “Wait,” I blurt out, getting up and reaching for her. She tries to yank herself out of my grasp, but she should know better by now. I don’t give up that easily.