I went shopping. I didn't need anything. I never wanted anything. My mom always had to convince me to buy new clothes to present an organized and confident appearance to the world. She would arrange her schedule so she wasn't catching up with work on Saturday afternoon, bribe me with a promise of a Starbucks frappuccino, and bring me here.
So it's more accurate to say that this time, rather than shopping, I walked through the stores, inhaling their familiar scents. My favorite anchor store smelled just a tad like mildew. The boutique next door reeked of dizzying perfume, a chemical brainwashing me into buying something more fashion forward than my usual comfort zone. Macram� leggings. I didn't fall for it this time, but I might have fallen for it with my mom working on me too. The sales chick smiled with dollar signs in her eyes, said she recognized me from other shopping trips, and asked where my mother was.
She wasn't being catty, I told myself over and over as I swam through the vast parking lot under the mile-high streetlights to the Benz, trying to reach that life raft before I drowned, struggling to stay on the surface. The sales chick didn't know about my mom. Nobody knew but me, and my dad, and Officer Fox, and Doug.
*** Baby, r u still coming to swim meet tonight 6 pm?
I shouldn't have sent the text before English. Then I wouldn't have ached for class to end so I could turn my phone back on and see whether Brandon had answered. We turned our phones off during class or they were confiscated. A fishbowl on the counter in the school office swam with phones on vibrate.
And I wouldn't have glared quite so hard at the back of Doug's head. Somehow he knew I hadn't heard from Brandon since Saturday. He knew I'd texted Brandon this morning out of desperation. Brandon did give a shit about me, I could have sworn. When the bell rang I grabbed for my backpack and clicked on my phone. No message.
Doug didn't turn around. He hadn't met my eyes the whole class. But he glanced over his shoulder, looking while trying to look like he wasn't looking. If I'd been half an actress I would have busied myself thumbing my phone, composing a fake response to Brandon's fake answer. I didn't think of this until history class.
Finally, during break, after Doug had already limped out of the room so it didn't even matter, I got Brandon's response:
Glad u remindded me. Ill ask Stepane.
For a ride, I finished for Brandon. Surely he only meant he'd ask her for a ride. I PLUNGED OFF THE BLOCK INTO the water and glided until the precise moment when stroking would propel me faster. Then I broke the glide and kicked for all I was worth, with my anger at my mom and my dad and Brandon and Doug behind me.
I had fresh reason to be mad at Brandon. Stephanie Wetzel had brought him to the meet, all right. And she had visited him in the stands several times. Once I glanced up from the pool deck to wave at him and caught him sipping from her Coke, then passing it back to her.
Right then I vowed that I would win the 400 IM--which I had never done before. Usually I came in sixth or so. I would recapture Brandon's attention. I would make him feel the pride I felt for him when I watched him score a touchdown. Actually I hadn't seen it happen last Friday because Doug had distracted me, but I would be sure to see it this Friday.
And I had a fresh reason to be mad at Doug, like I didn't have enough reasons already. After his show of caring about the team yesterday, he'd spent most of tonight's meet texting on his phone. I wondered whether he was LOLing and ROFLing with another girl from Destin who didn't know he'd been to juvie. He'd decided I wasn't worth the wait.
That got me to the first turn in record time. Between strokes I couldn't raise my head far enough to see the clock on the wall, but it felt like the cool water slipped past my skin faster than ever, and the chicks from Crestview and Niceville in the lanes on either side of me were nowhere in sight. Anger was a beautiful thing.
I pushed off the wall hard. Every time I took a breath, I heard Doug yelling my name. Amazing that I could pick out one voice from the hundred or so in the bleachers and around the deck, especially when my ears were full of water. If he thought hollering for me would refresh my anger and make me swim even harder, it was working. Then it occurred to me Brandon might not like Doug cheering himself hoarse for me. I decided Brandon was not as jealous as I'd thought. Brandon had shared a Coke with Stephanie Wetzel. Brandon did not in fact give a shit about me. My kick was powerful, my whole body in sync. Angrier and angrier, I would win this race. At the next turn I flipped toward the wall.
Something grabbed me like the cold tendrils of the undertow snagging me in the ocean. It grabbed me and wouldn't let go. I screamed underwater, inhaled pool, and thrashed to get away until I didn't know which direction was up. The thing dragged at me, pressing me against the side of the pool. But now I could tell from the warmth of the setting sun that my head was above water. Gulping air, I pushed up my goggles and came face-to-face with my mother. 11 "Zoey," she gasped. She was lying on her stomach on the pool deck. With both arms around my back, she still pressed me toward her, into the hard cement of the pool. "Oh God, Zoey, are you okay?"
Other than the fact that she was lying down in a public place, she probably looked normal to the other people there. She looked like the other moms in their track suits, only with a better figure. But I knew the difference. Normally she would have done herself up gorgeously. No track suit, no way. Trendy jeans with an age-appropriate top. Her makeup would have been immaculate. She was wearing none. Her long blond hair was caught in a careless ponytail. Then I noticed something strange in her bangs, something I'd never seen before on her. Gray roots.
"Breathe," she said. Her grip tightened around me. The sinews in her arms flexed. "Let me hear you breathe."
"Mom, I'm fine." Between gasps I said this quietly, like maybe if I kept it down, nobody would notice my insane mother lying on the pool deck and clinging to me. The girl from Crestview and the girl from Niceville each had an elbow up on the wall now, treading water and watching us. "Mom, let me get out."
She released me around the back but kept one hand firmly around my wrist and pulled me. I crawled one-handed onto the pool deck and stood to exactly her height. Coach was right behind her, questioning me with his eyes. Behind him was a ref--he must have stopped the race, but I hadn't heard the whistle. All the swimmers held on to the wall and looked up at us. All three swim teams huddled together in three bundles of bathing suits in three different colors, folding their arms against a sudden wind. All the people in the stands looked over at us. Brandon whispered to Stephanie. Doug was on the phone.