Wild Swans - Jessica Spotswood Page 0,10
swimming.
My phone chimes with a text. Speaking of Abby…
bonfire tonight. can you come?
maybe, I text back.
you deserve a party! summer of fun, remember?!
Right. i’ll try
lmk how it goes with your mom
I glance in the mirror, straightening my freckled, muscled shoulders.
Erica and my sisters are coming whether I like it or not. No matter what happens this afternoon, it’s not going to magically make up for fifteen years without them in my life. There’s no point in staying up here being all sulky and sad, wasting good sunshine.
• • •
It’s pure gorgeous out: a true-blue sky with white cotton-ball clouds and the sun sparkling on the water like diamonds. Why didn’t Grandmother paint the Bay like this?
As soon I’m in the water, I push all thoughts of mothers and sisters and family curses out of my head. I beat Alex back to the dock by a good three lengths. Alex is first baseman on the varsity baseball team and he’ll probably get that scholarship, but he doesn’t swim laps up at the college pool seven days a week like I usually do. I tell him next time I’ll swim butterfly—my weakest stroke—to give him a fighting chance. He hooks a leg around my ankle and dunks me.
I come up laughing.
“Feel better?” he asks. I nod, and the way he looks at me feels like it did at prom. Like we could be more than just friends if I let us. If I wanted that.
My eyes linger on his mouth. What would it be like to kiss Alex?
Doesn’t matter. I’m not willing to risk our friendship to find out.
I splash him instead. “What’re you doing tonight? Abby said there’s a bonfire. Wanna go?” Abby’s been waitressing down at the Crab Claw the last two summers. The parties at the cove nearby are legendary, a boozy mix of townies and college kids.
Alex nods. “Couple guys from the team are going. You think the Professor will let you out?”
It took some convincing for Granddad to let me go out last summer, but I kept coming home in one piece without smelling like a keg, so I think I’ve earned his trust. “If you walk me and I promise to be responsible.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “You’re always responsible.”
I flip onto my back and float. He’s right. I’m pretty well behaved, generally. A couple kisses here and there, but nothing serious. Nobody I’ve wanted to get serious with. It helps that I hate the taste of beer and am therefore less tempted to do stupid, impulsive things. Sometimes I’ll have a cup of cheap, fruity wine, but I never let myself get more than a little buzzed.
Probably has something to do with being conceived when Erica—a high school senior at the time—hooked up with a college boy at a frat party. She was messed up and mourning, and I try not to judge her for it, but some days I’m more successful than others. I’ve grown up without a mother, without even knowing my father’s name. I’m not about to repeat Erica’s mistakes.
“Ivy!” Luisa is walking down the sandy path. “Honey, they’ll be here any minute.”
I flip upright. My stomach tips and tumbles, and I want to dive under the water and stay there forever.
Instead I paddle over to the sun-warped wooden dock and hoist myself up. Grab the gray towel with the college’s mascot—a crane, of all ridiculous things—and wrap it around my waist. Wring out my long hair.
“Want me to come with you?” Alex asks.
“Alex, I don’t think—” Luisa’s kind brown eyes, so like his, dart back and forth between us. “I think it should just be family.”
But Alex and Luisa are my family.
I fight the urge to take Alex’s hand. I don’t want to give him mixed signals. Right now I just want my friend, not this new—whatever—between us.
Only it’s starting to feel like I can’t get one without the other anymore.
Alex opens his mouth to argue, but I force a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll see you later.”
I walk up the path and through the backyard, bare feet squelching in grass that’s still soggy from last night’s rain. I leave footprints on the gray floorboards as I creep around the porch. A car roars up the driveway. I should’ve gone inside sooner. Changed into something pretty. Now I’m going to meet them in a swimsuit and towel, with dripping hair and bare feet.
The car engine cuts out and doors slam. One, two, and—after a long pause—three.
No one blows a whistle, but I feel