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The next two days passed uneventfully for Brynna and she was glad. There were no messages from Erica, no “gifts” appearing in her locker. The calm was nice but unnerving. Brynna prayed that Erica—or whoever was pretending to be Erica—was done with her, but that sounded too good to be true.
When Brynna came down for breakfast the third day, her mother was already awake, already covered in her almost-to-her-knees painting smock, and on the phone. Her auburn hair was pulled into a sloppy topknot, and a half-dozen pencils were angled inward, keeping the mess in place. Brynna could see that her mother’s hands were already covered in paint, which meant she had started working even before Brynna woke up. She was grinning into the phone, and Brynna wasn’t sure if her mother’s happiness came from the fact that her father had left this morning on yet another business trip or something else. She clicked the phone off when Brynna walked in.
“Guess who has great news?” her mother said with a flourish.
Brynna poured herself a bowl of cereal. “Who?”
“You!”
She cocked a slightly interested eyebrow and flooded her Cheerios with milk. “How do I have great news? I’ve been asleep.”
Her mother dropped a napkin on Brynna’s lap. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. You have great news because”—she pressed her lips together in an approximation of serious expression—“I talked to your guidance counselor and your P.E. teacher about your swim test requirement.”
Brynna set down her spoon. “And? Are they going to let me skip it?”
“No. They can only waive it if you join the swim team at Hawthorne.”
“That’s my great news?”
“No. I told them about your phobia.”
She gritted her teeth, hating that word.
“And they agreed to give you extra practice time in the pool.”
The single bite of cereal seemed to expand in Brynna’s gut, pushing her insides out. She didn’t want more time in the pool. She didn’t want to “practice” not being crazy while a class full of other girls looked on, wondering why Brynna was such a freak.
“Mom, that sucks. That’s the worst thing—”
Her mother held up a hand. “The P.E. teacher agreed that you could practice after school in the indoor pool. There won’t be any other students there with you. Dr. Rother said that you just need to get comfortable in your own time. This way, you’ll have the whole school year to practice.”
Brynna blinked, still in disbelief. It seemed like a good idea in theory, but even here, sitting at the breakfast table in her house, Brynna could smell the overwhelming stench of chlorine, could feel the burn of her lungs as water rushed down her throat.
“You have to pass it to graduate, Bryn. I told you I could talk to the guidance counselor and Dr. Rother can write a note…”
“No.” It was out of her mouth before Brynna could stop it. “No. I need to…I want to get over this.” She looked up at her mother who had a look of pity and pride on her face.
“You don’t have to, Bryn.”
Brynna wanted to agree with her mother, wanted to give up the whole idea of getting in the water again, but something deep inside—maybe it was her stubbornness, maybe it was a small piece of her old self—pulled at her to try. She didn’t want to be pinned down by her fear her entire life.
“Are you sure?” her mother asked.
Brynna took a deep breath and nodded, half grateful that her mother had made the effort.
“Mrs. Markie said you can get in the pool today.” She bit her lower lip. “I know how hard this is going to be for you. I can come down and—”
“No. No. The only thing more humiliating than running away from water is running to my mommy.”
“I do want to make this easier for you, hon. I thought this might help.” She plucked a shopping bag off one of the chairs and handed it to Brynna.
Brynna looked inside and tried to swallow. “You got me a bathing suit?”
“You got rid of all your other ones, and I thought this one was kind of…nice.”
Brynna pulled the suit out. It was a navy blue one-piece with red-and-white polka-dotted piping and red stitching. The neck was cut lower and the legs cut higher than she was used to with her usual utilitarian swim team suits. All of those were Lincoln High purple or club swim team blue, and Erica had the same ones, matching Brynna suit for suit.
Brynna looked at the hopeful smile on her mother’s face and felt a twinge of guilt. She wanted to be better for herself, but she wanted to be better so her mother would stop worrying about her.