The Creeping

“On the count of three. One, two”—I take a deep breath— “three.” I plunge my head underwater. Taylor follows. He paddles nearer to me, so I dive down to the sandy floor. It’s only twelve or thirteen feet in this spot, and the pressure isn’t too much for my ears. At first I try to keep track of the passing seconds, but after I hit twenty I lose count. Taylor hovers a few feet to the right. I doubt I can actually beat him. Winning doesn’t matter, though; I need a few seconds to sober up.

The water presses into me from all sides, and a dull burning in my lungs mounts. I let my eyes flutter shut to absorb the calm. I beat my arms to stay on the ground and cross my legs. A slimy plant tickles my ankles, and I snap my eyes open to make certain it isn’t a fish. The big ones gross me out if they touch me with their scales. There’s algae the color of rust all around me. It starts to lengthen and grow, twining up from the sandy bottom and extending as a jungle in front of me. The color deepens and brightens until it’s a blazing red. I close my eyes and shake my head, preparing to surface. If I’m imagining things, I’ve been under way too long.

When I open them again, I can see that the redness all around me isn’t algae, it’s hair. Long strands of red hair. Jeanie’s there. I’m no longer under water but standing knee deep in a thicket of thorned brush. I’m a kid again. The trees and hedges tower over me, even when I stand on my tiptoes. I can taste the sweetness of strawberry seeds on my tongue; my fingers are stained with their juice. Jeanie struggles on her back like an overturned potato bug. A massive gnarled hand is twisted in her hair, clamped on a fistful, holding her down or dragging her away—I can’t tell which. I’m frozen, though, unable to move to her. Try as I might, my short legs are useless and stiff. My arms won’t budge from my sides. I can’t help her. I open my mouth to scream, but I only gulp water. My eyes fly open, the calm of the blue lake all around me. I kick off the sandy floor.





Chapter Fourteen


I hit the surface gasping. My head throbs as I splash frantically, trying to get ahold of myself. “Whoa, whoa.” Taylor is by my side. His hands slip over me, trying to get a grip on my flailing arms. “I was about to come down for you. You’ve been under almost a minute and a half. Steady.” I give up fighting. With his arm hooked under mine, he swims toward the shore. My chest heaves as I fill my lungs again and again with giant mouthfuls of sweet air. Jeanie on her back. Distorted fingers laced in her hair. Who was it? Why didn’t I see a face? I couldn’t look up. The person’s arm and everything beyond it was out of the picture. It was as if I were peering through a telescope, everything outside of the lens unseeable and a million miles away.

Taylor stumbles forward, hauling me to my feet. We’re waist deep, but my legs won’t work. I cling to him, willing the sensation back into them.

“I can’t believe you stayed under so long. You’re ballsy for a girl.” He wraps his arms around me, mistaking my nearness for flirting.

“I’m okay.” I stagger backward, forcing my legs to support me. I make it to the shore and crawl over the slippery rocks, slithery like eels under my feet, to get back to the beach where the others are sunbathing.

“Hey, hey,” Taylor calls, catching my arm. “Let’s not go back to the others yet. We could take a walk or . . . you know.”

I whirl around. The pervy way he says you know makes my temper flare, sending adrenaline into my limbs. “No, I don’t know,” I say tartly.

He tries to deliver a suggestive wink but ends up looking like he has a gnat in his eye. I hope he does. “Come on,” he half whines. “Stella, you’ve been leading me on for months. There’s not going to be a more perfect time to hook up. Plus, you’ve messed around with a ton of other guys.” He reels me in closer. “Don’t be a cock tease.”

I slap his hand from my arm. “You’d have to have one for me to be able to tease it,” I say venomously, turning and hurrying over the rocks.

Zoey and one of the Ds are still missing, probably making out in one of the nearby coves. Michaela is wiggling her toes and humming to the music streaming from her earbuds. Caleb’s towel is still next to Cole’s, but he’s gone, probably headed to yank a horny lacrosse player off his sister. I blink back tears. If only he’d been there to haul Taylor off me. I wrench my cell out of my jean shorts to check the time. Just before one p.m. THANK. GOD. I can’t stand another minute of Taylor. “Michaela,” I whisper, trying not to disturb Cole, who I’m certain is sleeping under the magazine covering her face.

“Hmmm?” Michaela lifts her glasses off her nose, peers at me, and shrugs off her earbuds.