Fire with Fire

I HANG AROUND AFTER SCHOOL ON FRIDAY TO GO TO a Spanish tutorial that Señor Tremont is holding in advance of our midterm. I get to the classroom first and worry for a second that maybe I got the date wrong, but then ten other kids from my class arrive and sit in the same seats as they do in sixth period. They’re the students I’d expect to see here, ones who never, ever, ever talk in class. Like me. We’ve all perfected the art of staring down at our desks when Señor Tremont asks for volunteers to do conversations with him.

The only one who isn’t here is Señor Tremont.

Ten minutes go by, then fifteen. The halls have emptied out and quieted; the noise comes from outside. I unzip my school bag, open my Spanish textbook, and review the stuff Señor Tremont covered in today’s class. But the others are way less patient. After twenty minutes, one of the other kids makes a big, huffy show of standing up. He says, “What the eff, man?” and a few others push back from their desks, ready to follow him out.

But then Señor Tremont bursts through the door with a cell phone in his hand. He shouts excitedly, “Mi esposa está teniendo un bebé!” the words coming out faster than the dialogue in the Spanish soap operas he lets us watch on Fridays.

The students stare at each other like Huh?, because we don’t have a clue what Señor Tremont is saying. Did he forget that this is a remedial session? Señor Tremont doubles over laughing and translates it for us.

“My wife is having a baby!”

With this news, the entire mood of the room shifts from annoyed to happy in a second. Everyone claps for Señor and cheers him on as he shoves his papers into his briefcase and sprints out the door. The whole thing brings tears to my eyes; I’m not sure why. Maybe because I have this feeling that Señor Tremont will be a good dad. Or because I miss my parents. It’s probably both.

On my way out of the classroom, I see Lillia down at the other end of the hall. I can tell it’s her because of her hair. No one in our school has hair as long and as shiny as Lillia Cho.

I open my mouth to call out for her, but then change my mind. Lillia’s probably on her way to the pool to swim with Reeve. I hang back but keep her in my sights. And I follow her, to be sure.

Lillia walks through the snow to the new pool building. She doesn’t use the same side door we used to, back when she, Kat, and I would meet up to plan our revenge schemes, back when the pool was being renovated. Instead she follows the sidewalk to the main double doors at the front of the pool building. By the time I reach them, I see Lillia make a left into the girls’ locker room.

I should go home. I know I should. Only something is drawing me into the building. I’ve wanted to sneak in and watch them before, many times, but I’ve always managed to talk myself out of it. Maybe because Lillia’s told me plenty about what goes on with her and Reeve when they swim together. She’s happy to share the details. And I’m happy to hear them.

But suddenly I need to see it with my own eyes. Them together. While she’s changing, I hurry down the hallway into the pool area. The whole space is finished now, and it looks beautiful. They’ve installed the diving board, painted a big seagull mascot on the far wall. The entire ceiling is glass, and it lets in a ton of light. It bounces off the cool blue water.

Off to the side of the diving board is the utility closet where Kat, Lillia, and I once had to hide out from a construction worker. I wish I could duck inside there, but there’s no way. Reeve’s down at the shallow end, doing high knee lifts. He’d definitely see me.

I glance in the other direction and see a row of metal stadium bleachers bolted along the wall, running almost the length of the entire pool. Quickly, I duck underneath them. Lucky for me, someone has stacked up a bunch of blue kick-boards, which gives me enough cover if I kneel down on the floor.

Perfect.

For a few minutes I have the chance to watch Reeve alone. He’s working hard out there. And though he’s lost a bit of the muscle from early in the football season, I like his body even better now. It’s less bulky, more lean.

After he finishes a set of his exercises, Reeve swims over to the entrance and looks down the locker room hallway. He’s waiting for her.

Then Lillia comes into the pool. She’s changed out of her school clothes and into a black one-piece. It’s definitely not something she’d ever be caught dead wearing on the beach, but it still looks great on her. If I didn’t know she couldn’t swim, I’d think she was there to lifeguard. She sits on the edge of the bleachers right in front of where I’m hiding, and tucks her hair up into a white swim cap.

“Yo, Cho,” Reeve calls out. “You’re late.”

Lillia doesn’t answer. Even though there’s a ladder that’s closer, she walks down to the shallow end of the pool and climbs into the water there. She’s timid, and she reacts like it’s freezing cold.

As soon as Lillia is in the pool, Reeve abandons his own exercises and starts instructing her. He helps her practice floating, with his hands underneath her back. He has her practice her arm movements in the shallow end. Every exercise he gives her, he watches her intently, like a coach. He corrects her plenty of times, which definitely seems to frustrate Lil, but when she can’t see it, he’s nodding and smiling like she’s perfect.

For a while I close my eyes and think about that day when Reeve shoved me into the water. Would it have happened if those other kids hadn’t been there? I bet it wouldn’t have. I bet we would have ridden the ferry home together, like always. I feel the tears come out of my eyes, and I let them fall.

When I open my eyes again, Reeve is out of the water, drying off right where I’m standing. Close up, I can see he still has a few scars from homecoming night, places where the glass cut into his skin. The skin in those spots is pinker than the rest of his body. Pink and pale and almost translucent.

I wipe away my tears with my sleeve.

“I’m going to go get changed, Cho. Why don’t you take the kickboards out and do some laps in the deep end?”

Reeve leaves, and Lillia goes to do what she’s told. But when she comes over to grab a kickboard, she sees me and almost screams.

“I’m sorry!” I whisper.

“Mary!” She looks over both her shoulders. “What on earth are you doing here?” And then, I think, the answer comes to her. She looks suddenly joyous. “Have you been watching the whole time? Did you see how many times he tried to touch me? It’s really, really working!”

“Yes, it is working,” I say quietly.

Lillia adds, “As a bonus, I’ve gotten a lot better in the water. I think I might actually take that swim test for real.” She shivers, and water droplets fly off her. “It’s a win-win!”

I blink a few times. Thank goodness Lillia doesn’t know all the things I feel deep down about Reeve. I don’t want anyone to know, not ever. “That’s awesome,” I say quickly, in a whisper. “I’m so glad you’re getting something out of this too.”

But I’m not sure if Lillia hears me. Her eyes turn to the hallway. “Crap.” She takes a kickboard off the top of the stack and leaps into the pool awkwardly.

Reeve enters a few seconds later, fully dressed. “You punking out on me, Cho?”

“No. I . . . I just . . . I don’t like to go to the deep end when I’m by myself.”

Reeve crouches down at the edge of the pool. It takes some effort; I can tell his leg is stiff and sore from the workout. Plus, he has his walking cast back on. He says, “Don’t worry. I’m right here.” And then he adds, “You owe me an extra lap for that,” but he says it in a tender, joking way.

Lillia uses the kickboard and works her way down to the opposite end of the pool. Reeve walks alongside her, every step of the way. His leg has gotten better. Stronger.

As soon as I get my chance, I run out of the pool, and all the way home. I’m the one who’s in deep water. I’m the one who’s sinking.