Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
I’m struggling to pull a swim cap over my huge bun when Coach Kim approaches me in the locker room.
“Avery! So glad I caught you before you got in the pool. I wanted to say thanks for all your help with Dan Wheeler—I heard it went great. He’s back to his normal training and swimming helped him maintain his cardiovascular fitness.”
She pauses a beat as other students walk in and say good morning. They shuffle past us and heft their bags onto the bench.
Kim continues. “Just a heads up—Analiese is joining the class. She’s rehabbing a cross-country injury. She’s been on the swim team for three years, so you don’t need to guide her like you did with Dan.”
Oh boy. I plaster a smile on my face, even though on the inside I can’t stand the idea of dealing with this, even if my participation will be minimal.
The pool should be a blissfully Analiese-free zone during the fall semester.
We both do swim team during the spring season, but she also does cross country in the fall semester.
Is it so much to ask that my early morning swim class remain tranquil, rather than being hit with Analiese Price before the sun rises?
The universe seems out to thwart my goals—first with my calculus grade and now this.
It’s all in the name of being swim captain, I remind myself, the vision board flashing behind my eyes.
“Great! I’m so glad this idea has worked out. Let me know if I can help her with anything.” The words sound forced, but Kim doesn’t seem to notice, thankfully.
My fingers cross behind my back, feeling only a teeny twinge of guilt over the fact that I absolutely do not want to help Analiese with anything. It’s highly unlikely Analiese would want anything from me anyway, so the offer is low risk.
Just then, Analiese’s smug face appears behind Kim. My stomach swoops with anxiety. My quiet morning pool time, now that Dan is gone, evaporates before my eyes.
“Avery,” she says with what seems like false congeniality, “thanks so much for making room in the pool schedule for me. As you know, our school cross country team has been number one in the league for the last ten years running and my coach appreciates the swim classes’ assistance in aiding our strongest athletes returning to full form ASAP. ”
Kim’s eyes bounce between us and one eyebrow ratchets up. She appears put off by Analiese’s little speech. Her smile tightens. “We’re all on the same team here, even though the swim season hasn’t started. Analiese, lane three. Avery, you’re in lane two. Everyone good?”
We both nod our agreement, our eyes still locked on each other.
After the echo of Kim’s footsteps fades from the locker room, I turn to Analiese and practically hiss. “What are you doing here?”
She glances down at her wrapped ankle, which she lifts slightly as she leans on her crutches. “Do I really need to explain it again? I thought you were smart.”
My head tilts to the ceiling as I inhale a deep breath. My hair tumbles out of the topknot I had it in, but that’s the least of my concerns. The hair-cap struggle can wait until after I deal with my arch-nemesis.
“Did you sprain your ankle on purpose so you could come down here and torture me?”
She laughs, the noise grating against me—obnoxious, galling, loathsome. And nasally. Those are just the first things that come to mind.
I’ll never forget the amusement on her face after she burned my sixth-grade science fair project. Only someone with a dark soul could find something like that amusing. Why wouldn’t I assume she’s here to ruin my life again? It makes sense, given her track record.
“Honestly, Avery, I didn’t even know we had a fall swim class until yesterday. Those of us with a diverse skill set—which looks great on a college application by the way—wouldn’t ever think to check the class schedule for redundant offerings.” She sniffs dismissively.
“You can drop the superiority act. And my applications have plenty of diversity, thank you very much.”
She tosses her glossy, dark hair behind her shoulder and glares down at me. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with. You stay out of my way; I’ll stay out of yours.”
For the next hour, Analiese swims in the lane beside me. Her tall, lean figure cuts through the water like a blade; her flip turns are so quick and efficient that she barely makes a splash. Objectively, her form is amazing, even with a sprained ankle. I try not to let that bother me. I fail.
My own morning workout flounders. Instead of focusing on analyzing my stroke or improving my split times, my eyes keep sliding over to Analiese, wondering how her ankle isn’t holding her back.
Halfway through the class, I finally catch on to how she pushes off the wall with only one foot.
The way she seamlessly accomplishes that on her first day swimming with her injury rankles.
I can only hope she heals as quickly as Dan did, or ideally, even faster. The relaxed and invigorated feeling I used to enjoy in the class is wiped away, replaced by mounting tension in my neck and shoulders. This is the last thing I need!
After school, I wrangle my latest, hideous art piece into my car, flustered and frustrated that the rebellious canvas won’t slide easily into the backseat like it should.
Sweat breaks out along my back from the exertion and the bright California sun.
The paint from the project seems to melt; fumes invade my senses, making me nauseous.
Perfect. Like I needed another reason to hate art.
Just as I crank the A/C in the car, my phone lights up with a call from Braden. Be still my heart! I knew things would smooth out.
“Braden!” I call out as I answer the call. “It’s about time! I love and miss you so much!”
Shuffling and distant laughing answers me. I wait a moment.
“Brae?”
More shuffling, like the phone is sliding against fabric. Despite the heat, I turn down the A/C to try to hear better.
“—maybe Granada. I’ve heard good things.” That sounds like a girl’s voice.
“Why can’t we go to Seville?” Someone asks, sounding masculine, but definitely not Braden.
“Because Tricia is usually right.” That was definitely Braden’s voice.
Tricia.
The air whooshes from my chest in an anguished squeak.
My fingers begin to ache from how tightly I’m holding the phone.
I want Braden to talk to me and tell me that he loves and misses me just as much as I love and miss him.
Is that asking too much? Instead, I overheard…
whatever that was. Why is Tricia with him and why is he defending her?
“Ugh, you two are so gross,” a girl replies. “Let’s go get something to eat and decide this later.”
'You two?' Someone who knows them both said 'you two' like Braden and Tricia are a package deal. My stomach turns.
More scratching noises, then the call drops.
Braden butt-dialed me.
Granada? Seville? Those are cities in Spain. My brain scrambles to make this make sense. Why is Braden talking about traveling to Spain with Tricia? He's supposed to be at MIT, buried in coursework. Since when does a first-semester freshman have time for European travel plans?
My phone buzzes before I can spiral any further—a reminder that Hunter's school bus stops outside our house in five minutes.
Crap! There's no way I can make it home in time, even if I drive double the speed limit, which means the bus isn't going to drop him off.
They'll take him back to the school and call my mother, which will set off a chain of events that will further complicate my life.
With a heavy sigh, I throw my car into drive and turn toward home, passing yards already littered with fake cobwebs and jack-o-lanterns, praying the bus driver is late for once.
The bus is not late. I know because Mom is currently lecturing me through my phone while I sit on the side of the road in my car—with an empty gas tank.
No, I’m not joking. The gas light has been on for two days, and I've ignored it because I've been too busy.
Dad always kept this car topped off—I remember him saying only irresponsible people let the tank hit empty. Guess I qualify now.
“Avery James, what has gotten into you lately? I know it’s not always fair how I have to depend on you to take care of your brother. I know that. But I can’t walk away from a shift in the ER every time there’s a problem.”
“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”
A part of me wants to defend myself so badly, but the image of my dad on Instagram pops into my mind. My mom has a lot on her plate too, and some of it I can definitely relate to. My dad and Braden apparently use the same playbook, taking off to distant lands and canoodling with unknown females.
“Why aren’t you at home?”
I freeze. If I tell her about being irresponsible enough to get stranded with an empty tank, she will get even more stressed and might hire a babysitter for Hunter AND me.
Even though my parents don’t pay me a lot for watching him, I depend on that income.
Losing my mother’s trust would be a monumental setback.
I’ve been saving up with the intention of flying out to visit Braden for spring break, which is now very much under reconsideration.
Even still, I don’t want to stress out my mom or give her a reason to cut off my only current income.
“Um, I spent a little extra time on an art project today.”
Technically true, though that time was spent trying to shove it into my car.
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
I can hear the sounds in the background get louder on her end of the call. She likely opened the door of whatever room she was briefly hiding in to see if anyone needed Dr. James.
“Mmmm.” I reply, noncommittally.
“Av, I need to go. I talked to the school and they know you’re coming to pick up Hunter. Text me when you’re home. Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
A glance up and down the road orients me as I slip my phone in my pocket and consider my options.
The nearest gas station is probably a mile or two away, which means it will take me at least a half hour to get to the school, after walking down and back with a gas canister.
That’s way too long, but what can I do? I have no other choices.
Roughly ten feet into my walk, a blue F-150 pulls in front of me. Jake’s tall form emerges from the driver’s side, already amused as he takes in the scene. Instead of waiting for him to mock my predicament, I go on the offensive.
“Aren’t you a little young to be driving without adult supervision, Jake?”
Jake’s dimples seem to reflect the sunshine as he strolls closer. “Aren’t you a little old to run out of gas while driving?”
I sniff indignantly. “Who said I ran out of gas?”
“So you’re walking away from your car on the side of the road because of another reason? Did your carriage turn back into a pumpkin, Cinderella?”
I open my mouth to let him know it’s merely because the weather is stunning and I feel like taking a constitutional, then snap it closed again. Jake’s appearance is the answer to my problem and it’s best to focus on the big picture. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, or something like that.
“Actually,” I pivot quickly, “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite little brother of my favorite best friend? Also, can I get a ride?”
His eyebrows scrunch adorably together in confusion, but he plays along. “That’s why I pulled over…”
“Great,” I say as I immediately charge over to the passenger side of his truck and hop in. “We need to get Hunter from his school.”
“Doesn’t he take the bus?” Jake asks after he climbs in seconds later and starts the engine.
I sigh deeply, annoyed that things keep going badly and I’m forced to explain my failings to people. Is it so much to ask that everything goes smoothly forever and always? Apparently so.
I wave my hand over my shoulder. “You saw my car situation. If no one is home when the bus comes, they take him back to the school and wait for someone to pick him up. So… let’s go. Put that brand new driver’s license to work.”
Jake looks at me for a few seconds, but doesn’t comment again as he puts the truck in drive and navigates us toward the local elementary school.
It’s not until we’re nearly there that it strikes me as odd that Jake was even driving on the road I stalled out on, as it’s in the opposite direction of the Taylors’ house. I eye him suspiciously.
“Jake?”
“Hmm?”
“Where were you going when you saw my car?”
“Your house.”
“Why?”
“To see if you and Hunter wanted to go trick-or-treating with me.”
“Halloween is tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“You were driving over to my house to see if I wanted to go trick-or-treating tomorrow?”
I’m staring at Jake’s profile as he pulls into the school’s driveway, completely bewildered. “What is going on with you lately?”
Jake shifts the truck into park and turns his body slightly so he’s facing me. I know I should rush into the school to collect Hunter, but this weirdness with Jake has gone on long enough.
“What is going on, Jake? I feel like you’re everywhere I go lately, and now you’re randomly stopping by my house? You could text me like a normal person. I’m not trying to be rude—I’m trying to understand what you want lately. We usually hang out at your house if we're both there.”
He stares, not answering. I roll my hand toward him to gesture well? But he continues to remain silent. Eventually he seems to realize I’m looking for some type of response.
“Sorry, can you repeat the question?” he asks. “I was just thinking about how Avery James is sitting in my truck, and I got distracted.”
I breathe in and close my eyes for a second to center myself. “What do you want from me, Jake?”
“Oh,” he says as he smiles and shrugs good-naturedly. “I want to be your friend. Plus, I don’t have your phone number.”
My eyes roam his features, gauging his sincerity.
His clear-blue eyes look guileless and honest. Nothing in his body language or expression indicates there’s any ulterior motive lurking beneath his friendly demeanor.
His hair flops adorably on his forehead and his fingers drum against his jean-clad thigh as he awaits my verdict on his claim.
The sight of the hockey puck keychain I gifted him dangling from the ignition catches my attention. I’m glad he’s using it, but seeing it there makes me feel… odd.
“Okayyy. You know you could get my number from Jenna, right?” I open the door and glance back at him again, and he grins bigger. Maybe he’s having a mental breakdown of some kind that I should bring up with Jenna—he’s been exceptionally odd this school year. “I’ll be right back with Hunter.”
After smoothing things over with Hunter’s principal and reassuring her that this won’t happen ever again, we all drive in Jake’s truck to my house, listening to Hunter chatter all the way home.