6 Times We Almost Kissed (And One Time We Did) by Tess Sharpe

Author:Tess Sharpe [Sharpe, Tess]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2023-01-24T00:00:00+00:00

THE TIME IN THE POOL

Penny

JUNE 27

SHE’S IN THE pool when I get to the motel, even though it’s almost two in the morning. She probably bribed the clerk.

The water glows in the night. It’s all noise and light pollution. Nothing like home, where you can stand in the meadow and see stars you’d never spot here. I won’t be able to sleep well until I’m back on our road where maybe twenty trucks drive past on a busy day. I open the pool gate and step inside. She doesn’t notice. I kick off my flip-flops and sit down on the edge of the pool, dangling my feet in the water. She’s half a foot away, midstroke, when she realizes she isn’t alone.

She hasn’t bothered with a swim cap, just goggles over her double braids, her dark blue racing suit cutting into her shoulders. She never wears suits with patterns on them. The other girls on her team do, but Tate’s all black and dark blue, sometimes burgundy, if she’s feeling wild.

Is she trying to hide? Because she always stands out. She’s prettier and she’s taller and she’s faster than everyone else, and when she looks at you, all blue-gray serious, the world doesn’t fade, it sharpens. Like you never knew it was there until her.

“Go away, Penny.”

“If you get to use the pool, so do I,” I tell her, because there’s no way I’m going to leave her alone after she bolted like that.

Tate doesn’t run away. She’s stalwart. It’s admirable and annoying all at once.

She swishes the water back and forth with her hands.

She’s shaking. I can see it now, the vibrations in the water, her shoulders trembling in the pool light.

“Tate,” I say slowly. “Are you okay?”

She nods, a jerky movement, but as I speak, she wraps her arms around herself like she needs a shield. From me. The flash of hurt I feel isn’t new, but it’s new because she’s causing it. Sometimes the things she does gnaw at me, but they rarely hurt. Not like this.

“Your mom’s okay,” I say, just to remind her, and Tate nods again. “Everyone’s good. Everything went just like it was supposed to.”

She keeps nodding, but then she starts talking. I almost don’t catch it at first. A low kind of mutter that slowly becomes clearer: “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Over and over.

I don’t really know what to do. I’m probably not the best person for this. But I’m the one who’s here. And she was the one who was there when I needed her.

So I do the only thing I can think of. I slip into the pool. The skirt of my dress, flimsy rayon that clings when wet, floats up, and I push it down. My feet skim along the bottom until they don’t, until I either have to tread water or grab on to her.

My hands slide up her shoulders, and she just stops. Stops trembling. Stops swearing. Stops moving.

It’s just her and me. No looking away. No more careful lies.

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