of facing the Wrath of Regina. But Regina is standing stock-still, her face frozen.
“Do you want some, Rose?” I hear Holly ask.
Holly hands a joint to Robert as she exhales. The smoke settles in a kind of halo above her head as I decide not to remind Robert that his stepmother once said she’d kick Robert out of the house permanently if he ever came home smelling of pot again.
Robert takes a hit off the joint and then gives it back to Holly, intentionally bypassing me.
“Rose isn’t that kind of girl,” he says, giving me a condescending wink.
I want to punch him. I’m actually considering it—even though my mom’s therapist, Caron, told me I need to start curbing my violent instincts and redirecting them to “a positive place”—when a howl rises up from the crowd.
Matt has grabbed the hose from his teammates and redirected the water so it hits the freshman right in the mouth. He is choking and sputtering, trying to move his face away from the stream so he can get some air, but Matt keeps walking toward him, bringing the hose closer and closer to the freshman’s mouth as if he intends to jam it in there.
Suddenly, Regina’s frozen face cracks. She’s in front of Matt in two steps, shoving him backward as she yanks the hose out of his hand. She tosses it away, spraying the cluster of freshman girls, who shriek and scatter in every direction, their hands flying up to protect their hair. Matt lands on his butt, unsure what just happened.
“Who is that?” Holly asks, her big brown eyes already redrimmed from the pot.
“Rose can tell you all about her, can’t you, Rose?” Robert says drily.
Matt grabs the hose off the ground and struggles to stand up, nearly falling into the pool. He loses track of the spray, drenching his own shoes.
“Conrad, are you really gonna let your sister mess with your initiation?” he asks, staring at Regina.
His sister? The party punching bag is Regina’s brother?
Matt looks back at Conrad.
Conrad says nothing.
Matt turns the hose on him.
Regina goes for Matt but Anthony catches her, pinning her arms and spinning her around. He leads her away and she doesn’t put up a fight, her face blank, her body slack as he talks into her ear, his dark eyes hard.
I can’t believe Regina is walking away while the swim thugs are drowning her brother. If anyone could take them on, it would be her. What’s she doing?
Matt and two thuglets grab Conrad and hurl him back into the pool, even though he’s still choking. As soon as Conrad hits the water, Matt spits out one final “Faggot!” then loses interest and wanders off. His brainless underlings trail after him.
“What’s with all the homophobia?” Holly asks, looking up at Robert for an explanation. “Is it always like this out East?”
“Union’s special,” Robert answers. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Um, shouldn’t we do something?” she says, turning toward the pool.
“We’ll just end up in there with him, and you’re too stoned to swim, darling,” Robert replies. I nearly gag for multiple reasons, not the least of which is Robert calling his girlfriend darling like he’s a 1940s movie star. “The guy’s a swimmer,” he continues. “I’m sure he can find his way to the surface of a pool without our help.”
“Okay,” Holly says uncertainly.
I follow her gaze to the water and see that Conrad is making zero effort to swim—in fact, less than zero. He’s letting himself sink.
“See ya, Rose,” Robert says, taking Holly’s hand.
I look at the cup Robert’s still holding. “Wait, you’re not going to drive right now, are you?” I ask.
For a second, I see the old Robert, the one who was always looking for my approval, even after I kept not giving it to him. But the new Robert surfaces quickly. “Holly’s driving the vintage Mustang tonight.”
I look at Holly, who seems embarrassed again, then at Robert. “So she’s too stoned to swim but not to drive?”
“It’s okay,” Holly says. “We can just walk to my house from here.” Holly glances one last time at the pool. “So cool to meet you, Rose! See you at school on Tuesday,” she adds as Robert pulls her into the crowd that has no interest whatsoever in the fact that Conrad Deladdo is intentionally drowning himself.
Although, to be honest, drowning oneself is not a surprising response to one’s first Union High party.
I should do something.
The thing is, after last year, I want to keep a low profile, and I definitely do not want to be the party buzz-kill again.
Plus, he’s not really drowning—he’s just messing around.
Right?
I look at the pool. I can’t see him anymore from where I’m standing.
I wait a second for him to come up. I wait another second. Nothing.
I go to the edge of the pool and look in. Conrad is still drifting down, as if he’s being pulled to the bottom by some current I can’t see. He looks up at me and it seems like our eyes meet through the water for a second. Then his close.
I drop to my knees and reach into the water to grab him but of course I can’t get to him. I lean forward a little more, and the inevitable happens.
From across the pool, Tracy yells my name but it’s too late. Someone shoves my shoulder and I fly face-first into the glowing blue water.
My first thought is, I’m destroying the dry-clean-only silk T-shirt Tracy lent me after practically making me sign a contract in blood, promising that nothing would happen to it.
My second thought is, I didn’t realize how much the noise of the party was making my brain hurt until I ended up in the pool. It’s so peaceful down here—all the music and the yelling get lost beneath the sound of my pulse and the blood in my veins. It’s perfect.
I haven’t felt this calm in more than a year. For a while after my dad died, I had these weird episodes that my mom said were panic attacks—they felt more like rage attacks to me. They’re mostly gone now, but sometimes, out of the blue, I’ll be doing something totally normal when suddenly I see these crazy-violent images. I have no control over it.
Here, under the water, I don’t feel like that can happen. Maybe I need to spend my life floating around in a pool.
Conrad looks like he feels the same way. But he also looks like he might be turning blue from lack of oxygen.
I swim down to him and reach for his arm. He yanks it away and gives me the finger.
So
