I splash the water and nod toward Henry. “I need time. A little help?”
It takes her a second before she understands, but then she says, “I’m on it,” and begins to breaststroke over to the ladder in the deep end.
I’m working as hard as I can, but it’s not fast enough. The pool temperature hovers below hot tub but above something believable for this early in the summer in Massachusetts.
Henry sees us in the pool and deposits the sugar bowl and his eyeglasses on the patio table. “Get your scorecards ready, ladies.” With expert form, he dives into the pool.
Apparently, fear stokes my powers. The water temperature plummets, but not before Henry’s head bursts above the surface. “Holy smokes, it’s like bathwater!”
Already at the ladder, Laila jumps out. “Oh, no, it’s freezing.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest and chatters her teeth as she runs to get a towel.
By the time Henry swims to me, the water has cooled to a believably tepid level.
“Not bathwater,” I say, showing him my very real goose bumps. “At least not my bathwater. I guess you like yours lukewarm?”
Again, like on my birthday, Henry gives me a look I can’t quite make out. This time, it’s not amused, it’s not even the expected confused. It’s … intrigued?
As if distancing myself from the evidence would help, I hop out of the pool and wrap a Wookie-emblazoned beach towel around me, another relic from the days when Jenny and I would spend hours floating on inflatable rafts, fleeing from Henry, who was determined to dunk us.
I settle myself on the lounger farthest from the pool, sinking as the saggy bottom gives underneath me.
“That’s the oldest one,” Henry says, following me. He points to a chaise across the yard next to Laila, right by the pool. “Those are better.”
I wring the water out of my T-shirt. “I’m good.”
Tousling his hair and inadvertently, I think, flinging droplets over my legs, Henry pulls up a chair next to me. “You really didn’t think the water was warm?”
I shrug.
Henry studies the pool. “It’s funny, I was in earlier, and it was really cold. It’s just … weird, I guess.”
Tilting my head back, I squint. “Sun’s out now.”
“Yeah, still…” Henry clasps his hands together and lowers his eyes. He taps his foot against the splintering wood decking. “I … I left my phone up on the porch.” He pauses, still not looking me in the eye. “Too bad, I wanted to show you something I have on it. An app.”
My body tenses at the word before I understand what he means.
“I wonder…” He sneaks a glance at Laila before continuing. “Think you could get it for me?”
I twist my head around. He wants me to get up? “Uh, I guess, but I’m pretty wet too.”
He swallows, meets my eye for only a split second, and in a low voice, says, “Then don’t get up.”
My cheeks scrunch up, bumping against my eyelashes. “But then how—”
He clears his throat and leans forward. “Well, see, I was watching this documentary the other day. On ESP and telekinesis…”
Confusion jumbles my thoughts, fear quickens my pulse, but my instincts are in control, and they tell me to get out of the chair. I push my hands against the arms of the lounger, which somehow causes the worn fabric to suck me in even deeper.
Henry’s staring at me, expectedly. Knowingly. But he can’t know. Maybe he thinks he saw something earlier with the lilacs. Maybe he thinks something’s off about the pool. And, fine, maybe he’s even thinking back to the great Slinky escape. But two plus two plus two does not equal anything close to Jinn.
He leans in even more. The surprise that consumed my face before I managed to hide it must be what bolsters his confidence. “Well, it’s too bad.” He steals another glance at Laila, presumably to ensure she’s still out of listening range. “Because the app’s pretty cool. It lets you use the phone like binoculars. Pretty good ones, too. Last night, I could, well, I could see all the way across the street. Your mom … she sure loves ice cream, huh?”
This time, I vault out of the chair. “You spied on my mom?”
The real question is if he spied on me. If he saw me levitating the contents of my shoe box. The app can’t be that good. Can it?
Indignation seems like the best way out of this. “We could call the police, you know. Being a Peeping Tom isn’t just creepy, it’s against the law.” I turn around and raise my voice. “Laila, it’s time to go.”
Even though she’s wearing those ridiculous aviators, I can tell she’s giving me a disappointed look. “Already? I was going to go for another swim.”
“Nuh-uh. It’s way too cold for that. Besides, my mom’s expecting us. Yours too.”
Though she cocks her head, she mutters, “fine,” and starts gathering her things.
It’s not until Laila appears next to me in her crocheted cover-up that I face Henry again.
“Thanks for the swim,” I say, to which Henry simply nods. Confidence gone, he seems as disappointed and confused as Laila.
Laila slings her tote bag over her shoulder. “What were you two talking about anyway?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, cringing inside that she had to ask. Cool, Azra, stay cool. Henry has no idea. He couldn’t have any idea. I nonchalantly toss my wet ponytail off my shoulder.
“Well, not exactly nothing.” Henry stands. Like me, he towers above Laila. “Just this documentary I was watching on … well, on … telekinesis.”
Laila’s hand flies to her mouth. Her eyes flicker to mine before she taps her fingers against her lips, pretending to yawn. Then, with a nervous laugh, she says, “You can’t actually believe in that stuff.”
Henry shrugs. “I … I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, why not?”