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  Brynna looked over Dr. Rother’s shoulder, staring out at the perfectly suburban scene beyond: a parked SUV, one of the thousands out there, gleaming in the sun; a woman dressed in head-to-toe Lululemon, pushing a jogging stroller; a random leaf rolling by as if on cue.

  “It’s perfectly natural, Brynna. No one wants to speak ill of the dead—have you heard that expression before? ‘I don’t want to speak ill of the dead’?”

  Brynna rolled her eyes and wished the clock would move faster. “Yes, I’ve heard it.”

  “Well, people tend to go overboard in the opposite direction. Someone who died, especially if he died tragically or suddenly, becomes a great humanitarian. He’ll be eulogized as a loving husband and father, even if he was a cheat and a jerk.”

  Brynna crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So what does this have to do with me and Erica?”

  “Don’t you see? You’re doing the same thing with Erica.”

  White-hot anger split through Brynna. “Erica was a great person. She was awesome.”

  “I’m not saying that she wasn’t. All I’m saying is that even in her passing, you have to see her for who she was. She wasn’t better than you. Even if she got better grades or really was a better swimmer, it doesn’t mean that you deserved to die.”

  “Neither did she!” Brynna was crying now, her hands fisted so tightly that she could feel her nails digging little half moons into her palms. “Erica didn’t deserve to die. She shouldn’t have died!”

  “No, Brynna, she shouldn’t have. But it’s okay for you to wish that Erica was still alive without wishing that you were dead.”

  Sure, Brynna thought, but what do you do if someone wants you dead?

  •••

  “B. B? B! Brynna Marie!”

  Brynna’s head snapped up so quickly she flicked ketchup onto her shirt.

  Evan grinned and Lauren and Darcy looked away, lightly snickering. Teddy handed her a napkin.

  “How’d you know my middle name was Marie?”

  Evan shrugged. “Every girl’s middle name is Marie.”

  Darcy and Lauren nodded their agreement. “Lauren Marie,” Darcy said, thumbing Lauren. “Darcy ANN Marie.”

  “Teddy?” Evan asked.

  “Actually, mine’s Andrew.”

  “Anyway, welcome back from planet wherever-the-hell-you’ve-been. We’re making homecoming arrangements. You two in for a limo?”

  Teddy said something to Evan while Brynna’s eyes wandered to the graying light outside the cafeteria windows. It was as if the moment Erica had been found, the dark and cold crept in and was holding on. The sky was spitting thick raindrops when she left Dr. Rother’s office that morning, and although it had cleared since then, the vile-looking clouds remained. Brynna shivered.

  “Wow. She’s so excited about homecoming, she shivers.”

  Brynna blinked, just in time to catch the hurt look in Teddy’s eyes. “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I am really excited about homecoming. Seriously.” She looked at the skeptical faces of her friends and let herself flit into the fantasy of dancing with Teddy under twinkle lights—even if they were going to be strung up from the basketball hoops in the gym. She pressed her palm into his and squeezed. “I am.”

  He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling, sparking a sweet warmth low in Brynna’s belly. He brushed a kiss over her lips, light and feathery, and her heart skipped a beat that sent a delicious tremble throughout her. For the first time since she could remember, her body was reacting to something other than terror.

  “This has all been lovely, but it’s time for class,” Lauren said, loudly piling her books on top of each other. She cut her eyes to Brynna, cool but not mean. “You coming?”

  Brynna nodded quickly and pecked another kiss at Teddy then gathered her own books. Evan’s hand on her arm stopped her before she turned.

  “Don’t tell the enemy anything,” he hissed with a serious look in his eyes.

  Brynna glanced around the cafeteria, surprised. “Who’s the enemy,” she hissed back, “and what am I not supposed to say?”

  Evan scooched forward. “It’s killing Lauren that she doesn’t know who I’m taking to the dance. I looooove torturing her. It’s killing her even more that you know and she doesn’t.”

  Brynna’s mind raced. Did Evan tell me he had a date? “But I don’t know who you’re taking, do I?”

  “No. I haven’t asked anyone yet. But don’t tell Lauren that. Pretend like you know.” He released her hand and gave her the shove symbol, and Brynna rolled her eyes, jogging to catch up to Darcy and Lauren just before they slid into Mr. Fallbrook’s class. He was lecturing about the book they were reading—Lord of the Flies, one of Brynna’s favorites—but with each tick of the clock, her heartbeat was growing more and more erratic. P.E. was her next class, and it was the first day of the swimming unit.

  It should have been easier for Brynna, now that she knew Erica was dead, but everything inside her still seized up when she thought about stepping back into that water. It wouldn’t be dark this time, and she wouldn’t be alone—and Erica really was gone. She knew all of these things intellectually, but that didn’t stop her heart from slamming against her rib cage every time the clock ticked past another minute. It didn’t stop the clamminess on her hands or prickling sense of something not right that walked down her spine.

  Lauren slapped her book shut when the bell rang, leaning into Brynna and rolling her eyes. “Is it me or was that, like, absolute torture?”

  Brynna started then quickly gathered her composure. “I read Lord of the Flies at my old school. I actually kind of liked it.”

  “The book is whatever. I’m talking about Mr. Fallbrook. Weird-o.” She drew out the O in her high-pitched, singsongy voice. “I mean, who steps up to take the place of a teacher who was murdered?”

  “I thought it was the Spanish teacher who was killed.”

  “It was, but the only other person who spoke Spanish was—is—Señora Hill, who used to teach this class. So she moved, and Norman Bates over there”—she jutted her chin in Mr. Fallbrook’s direction—“stepped up to cover for Señor Muerto.”

  “I don’t care. I’d let him stab me any day.”

  Brynna looked up to see Darcy strolling through the doorway before she nudged up against Lauren’s desk.

  “You’re so morbidly horny,” Lauren said, stacking her books on her binder.

  “I can’t help it.” Darcy’s eyes cut to Mr. Fallbrook as he looked down, talking to a student. “He’s so hot. Those eyes! They’re, like, wicked blue. Like they can see right through you.” She shimmied, a perfectly pressed pout on her lips, one eyebrow cocked so she looked seductive.

  Lauren glared at Darcy. “Stop that. You’re going to freak out the new girl.” She petted Brynna, and Brynna shrank back.

  “It’s been over two months. When do I stop being the new girl?”

  Lauren grinned. “When there’s a newer girl.”

  The trio walked down the hall, Lauren and Darcy nattering on about homecoming and strapless bras while Brynna’s mind ticked on about the P.E. class they were on their way to.

  The day before, the class had been subjected to a mind-numbing game of dodgeball that devolved into fifteen girls half-heartedly bouncing giant red balls in the general direction of the other fifteen girls who pretended to dodge out of the way but in super-slow motion.

  Brynna preferred that.

  She even made an actual attempt at aiming the ball once or twice, but the second Mrs. Markie began announcing that they would start practicing for the end-of-the-year swim test, Brynna’s hands went clammy, and the red bouncy ball flopped to the floor and dribbled away from her.

  This morning, she had dutifully packed a bathing suit that her mother had bought for her and resolved to at least attempt to enter the pool. If the swim test was the only way to get out
of Hawthorne High, Brynna was going to do it.

  “This is my chance to be normal,” she muttered to herself.

  “Did you say something, Bryn?” Darcy turned to look at her, her crystal eyes wide, and Brynna shifted her weight. Darcy had never been anything but nice to her, but there was something there, something Brynna couldn’t put her finger on, that bothered her about the girl.

  “No, just that I’m not totally looking forward to getting into the pool.”

  “Ugh, ditto that,” the other girl said, yanking open the locker room door.

  “Don’t worry,” Lauren joined. “The first day is the intro to water class. ‘This is a pool. This is water. Water is wet.’ Pretty basic stuff. I doubt we’ll even get a toe wet.”

  A cool wash of relief poured over Brynna. Intro to water, she mused. I can do that. I can save normal for another day…

  Brynna slid into her swimsuit, immediately pulling her oversized towel over her shoulders and holding it tight to her chest. Lauren looked at her and chuckled. “What’s your problem, Chase? Afraid we’re going to catch a glimpse of your hot bod and fall in love?”

  “Just…cold,” Brynna managed.

  Lauren was in her Hawthorne-green swim team suit; Brynna had a half-dozen of the exact same suit, only hers were Lincoln High purple and gold. She shivered and switched her gaze to Darcy, who was adjusting the straps of her suit. It was a delicate pink with even paler pink polka dots and contrasting striped piping. With its frilly little skirted bottom, it would have made anyone else look like a freakishly tall six-year-old, but on Darcy, with her white-blond hair, sex kitten lips, and chest that made Brynna shrug into her towel, she looked like walking sex. Sweat pricked out all over Brynna, and she thought about Teddy, about what her sweet boyfriend could see in her when he’d spent nearly a year with Darcy and all her candy striper/centerfold glory. But the thought was fleeting as the girls began walking toward the outdoor pool.

  Lauren held the door open, and Brynna worked to control her breathing, trying to grab on to something that Dr. Rother told her about facing challenges. She couldn’t think of it, and her frustration was overtaking her dread.

  TWELVE

  When all the girls were suited up in their Hawthorne High regulated bathing suits—no bikinis, no monokinis, no tankinis, or “inis” of any kind—Mrs. Markie lined them up against the far wall of the outdoor pool. Brynna was secretly relieved that the P.E. teacher had chosen to teach the class at this pool rather than the indoor one; the indoor one, Brynna thought, felt far too much like a coffin.

  Mrs. Markie strolled in front of them, her tanned, freckled skin loose where the industrial-sized straps of her army-green bathing suit cut across her shoulders. She was wearing the suit with a pair of knee-length khaki shorts and her ever-present whistle. Her toes bled over the top of a pair of blue-and-white strappy foam sandals, “Hawaii” scrawled over the white part in a funky brush script. The ensemble gave her the look of a geriatric camp counselor. Brynna was so busy taking in Mrs. Markie that she failed to hear the teacher directing her students to the edge of the pool.

  The shrill sound of the whistle shook Brynna out of her reverie. “In line, Chase!” Mrs. Markie barked.

  Brynna didn’t move, watching while the girls filed into four rows at the edge of the pool. One girl, who wasn’t suited up, came out of the locker room and sat on a bench with a notebook.

  “How come she doesn’t have to swim?” Brynna asked Mrs. Markie.

  Mrs. Markie dropped the silver whistle from her lips and looked disgustedly at the girl on the bench. “She can’t swim. Can you swim, Chase?”

  Brynna nodded blankly. “Does she still have to take the test?”

  The teacher answered Brynna with a quick burst from the whistle. “Mind your own business and get in line.”

  Brynna slowly made her way to the lines of girls, stopping to suck in her breath when the four girls at the head of each line simultaneously jumped into the water and swam the short way across the pool.

  “What happened to ‘Intro to water day’?” she breathed as her heart rate started to ratchet up.

  She watched, stunned, as the girls cut through the water and climbed out of the pool on the other side just as the next four jumped.

  “What is this supposed to teach us, exactly?” Brynna asked Lauren, who was standing in front of her.

  Lauren shrugged. “That if you fall in the pool, you can climb out, I guess. I know the trainer came over and made our dog do the same thing.” She turned all the way around to face Brynna. “Scared?”

  “No.” Brynna forced a chuckle. “Why would you say that? I mean, I can swim.”

  “Good,” she said, turning back around. “Because if you can’t, they make you take the beginning class with the middle schoolers.”

  Brynna looked toward the girl on the bleachers, mercifully clothed. Her stomach lurched, a fist of anxiety tightening in her gut. She raised her hand.

  “Um, Mrs. Markie, I’m not feeling so well.”

  Mrs. Markie took her time coming around the pool, using her whistle every five feet before stopping to yell at someone in the water, someone getting out of the water, or someone on the way into the water, before she approached Brynna.

  “What’s that now?”

  Brynna pressed her palm against her stomach. “I don’t think I should swim today. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

  Mrs. Markie pressed the back of her hand against Brynna’s forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”

  “Maybe it was something I ate.”

  She knew exactly what it was but wasn’t about to announce that she was afraid. According to Brynna’s mother, Mrs. Markie should have known about her fear. She had, after all, granted Brynna permission to “practice” in the indoor pool, but now her slate-gray eyes looked hard, her lips pressed into a thin line, edges pulling downward.

  Brynna glanced away from Mrs. Markie and her interrogating eyes and instead looked down, seeing the droplets of water that splashed up after the girls jumped. It speckled the concrete underneath her, and rivulets of water rushed toward her, pooling around her bare feet. “I don’t think I should go in.”

  Brynna could hear her classmates’ arms pounding through the water. The sound of the water frothing with their kicks, with their wriggling bodies, made her think of Erica, and her stomach really did sour, bile itching at the back of her neck.

  “You’re not trying to get out of class, are you, Chase?”

  Brynna shook her head, and Lauren leaned into her. “You were fine five minutes ago,” she murmured.

  Darcy hit the water next, and fire shot up the back of Brynna’s neck as she watched the blond girl suspended in midair before her pointed toes cracked the undulating surface of the water. She was transfixed, horrified as the water swallowed Darcy up—her strong, tanned legs first, then over her belly, her arms, her shoulders, and finally, her blond head engulfed, disappearing under.

  “Erica!” The blood-curdling scream ripped through the concrete enclosure, and Brynna looked around, stunned. There was water on her face and she was moving, her thighs burning as she propelled herself forward. She felt her fingertips break the water, and then her face was under. Her eyes sprang open and she heard the repeated thud of limbs slapping water, and then, there was Erica.

  Brynna could see Erica’s painted toes barely scraping the bottom of the pool. She could see her elegant arms pawing at the water as she struggled to stay afloat. She was more compact than Brynna remembered, but it was easier to toss an arm around her, push Erica to her back, and then swim with her toward the shallow end.

  She had rescued her. Erica would survive.

  “What are you doing? What are you doing?”

  Brynna could barely hear the gurgled words for the sound of the waves and the odd chirping sound cutting through the night. She opened her eyes and the sunlight
blinded her, stopping her for a beat while Erica struggled against her, finally breaking her hold and getting away.

  “Chase! What the heck was that?” Mrs. Markie barked.

  Brynna blinked, her feet settling on the smooth bottom of the pool.

  Then her heart started to go. A single beat, and then a single beat more. Faster, faster. Brynna was standing in water up to her elbows, and there were people all around her, lining the square edges of the pool, eyes wide, mouths opened. Her stomach started to churn, and the panic shot through her, chilling her body even though the water temperature was warm.

  “Get out, Chase.”

  Brynna barely heard the words, but her feet were rooted in place. Her body was a thousand pounds and solid steel. She tried to force something to work, something to move, but nothing did.

  She was terrified.

  All around her, the water waved and slapped.

  Erica?

  Her vision started to blur.

  “Brynna!”

  She vaguely recognized that voice. Erica? Ella?

  Somewhere, there was a sucking sound as a body entered the water.

  Brynna’s teeth started to chatter, and the clouds, thick and gray, snaked across the sun. The pool was enveloped with a sinister gray.

  “Brynna?” That voice was close to her now, at her left ear, and Brynna wanted to acknowledge it—but not as much as she wanted to sink back into the water. She felt the lap of the water go over her arms, then over her shoulders. It would be so easy, so comfortable. Then she could be with Erica. She could apologize. She could say it was her fault. She could sleep…

  The water engulfed her like soft, enveloping arms. She felt it on her lips, on her nose. Her lungs burned at first, but it was so peaceful under the water that she didn’t struggle. All sound was muffled as the water plugged her ears, and the world above her wobbled outside of the water and was moving so far away, so fast.

  “Come on, Brynna!”

  Lauren’s arms darted out instinctively to cradle Brynna, and Brynna lay still, stiff in the water, unable to move. She watched the clouds in the sky as she slid out from underneath them, Lauren’s legs kicking gracefully beneath her. By the time they reached the edge of the pool, there were people to help scoop Brynna from the water as they commanded her to move, but she couldn’t, not even an eyelash, not even a single inch. Nothing worked, and once again, she had lost Erica.