“Is she hurt, Kent?” my mother cried, dropping onto the deck.
My father placed both hands on my heaving shoulders and smiled at me. “No,” he said softly, “she did great.”
Then he hugged me so tightly I thought my lungs would collapse.
Over his shoulder I saw four bloodied bodies floating in the water.
Facedown.
CHAPTER 12
An outbreak of cheers, compounded by an earsplitting buzzer, brings me back to Waterford.
Catching my breath, I look up at the board. Did I miss Emma’s race?
I walk forward through the lobby, squishing through the bodies toward the bleachers. I am scanning the crowd for Charlotte and Mason, when my gaze locks on somebody else instead.
Across the pool deck, Aksel stands out like a Vilebrequin ad on a Paris billboard. He’s drying his wet hair with a towel. He has warmup pants on, but no shirt, exposing an enormous, muscular chest. I scan the scoreboard—was he racing?
When I look back at him, his eyes catch mine.
An embarrassed flush extends across my body.
Several thoughts cross my mind in rapid succession: Do I look away? Do I smile and wave? Do I walk over and congratulate him? Why is it always such a game between us?
With a vague nod of his head, Aksel turns away from me, tosses the towel into a bin near the bleachers, and ducks into the locker room. I can’t decide which bothers me most: Aksel turning away from me, or the fact that I didn’t turn away from him first.
While the flashback is gone, the sensations linger—my legs ache, my vision is foggy.
I still need air.
Maneuvering back through the crowd choking the entrance, I head outside.
It is a dark, clear night. Constellations of stars sparkle above.
I decide to walk toward Charlotte’s Pathfinder at the periphery of the lot to wait.
Halfway there, I feel it.
My parents firmly believe in a “hex” sense—Greek for sixth.
If you don’t want to be noticed, keep your head down, because if you look at someone long enough, they’ll sense you looking at them and will look in your direction. Wave-particle duality, my father says.
This is what I sense now—quantum physics.
My eyes sweep the darkness.
At first, I see nothing. Then I notice a few rows back is a red truck with rust crusted around the wheel wells. Someone is alone inside it. Shadow obscures the man’s face, yet a dim phone light casts a glow over the car’s interior, illuminating his eyes—fixated on me.
The base of my neck tingles.
I have nothing to fear in Waterford.
I’m on edge because of the flashback, is all.
Nonetheless, the reflection of light in his eyes reveals he is still watching me.
Instinctively, I reverse. I back toward the nearest entrance—crowds, safety.
However, when I look back at the truck—it’s empty.
I halt.
A bracing cold spreads down my spine and into my limbs.
Nearby, a car door opens, then slams shut.
My heart starts pounding.
Startled, my eyes skim the tranquil parking lot.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement from the direction of the truck.
A shadowy figure moves between cars—in and out of my vision.
… darkness … blinding flash of light …
I whip my head side to side, listening. Straining my ears.
His gait is slow. Arrhythmic. Unfamiliar.
My fingertips slide to my waistband.
Ahead, I hear the footsteps approaching—heavy boots—accompanied by ragged breathing.
… Wheezing … running … His voice …
The footsteps near.
… boots … sweating …
I thumb open and lock my Ladybug.
Pivoting forward, I transition into a run—Bam!
I collide into something—someone—so firm I bounce backward.
Aksel catches me swiftly, steadying me. He immediately glances over my shoulder, before returning his confused gaze to mine.
Looking down at his chest, he frowns.
The tip of my Ladybug is up against his abdomen.
My left hand is coiled around his wrist in a steel grip.
Heat scorches my cheeks.
Rapidly, I retract my blade.
Hastily, I uncoil my hand from his wrist and drop it quickly at my side.
Aksel’s face is flushed. He is holding a swim duffel in his left hand, glaring at me.
My heart pounds like it’s going to leap into my throat. If he is expecting an explanation, I don’t have one. In only one world is this normal—mine. With trembling fingers, I fold the knife back into my waistband. “I—I’m sorry,” I stammer.
Aksel’s eyes flick to my waistband. “Are you okay?” he asks. His tone is clipped. His eyes are still boring down on me. Stunned. Accusing.
Craning my neck, I look behind me. No one is there.
“Fine,” I say. “There was … someone … I thought …”
Am I seeing things?
Aksel glances over my shoulder again. Behind him, the swim team is trailing out of the locker rooms. Farther down, a crowd is exiting Fish Market.
I’ve missed the whole meet.
I push my tongue against the back of my teeth to keep my lips from quivering.
Why has all my progress come crashing down—and why does Aksel have to see it?
Aksel doesn’t lift his eyes from mine. His brow furrows, but the anger in his voice has subsided. He actually sounds concerned. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Sure,” I answer casually. My hands remain clenched into fists.
We stare at each other in agitated silence. I notice that Aksel is as tense as I am, his posture rigid, defensive. He’s like a mirror, reflecting my own fear and confusion. His gaze is both mesmerizing and terrifying. It’s as though his eyes are drilling through me again, trying to read me, solve me.
Yet, though he seems affronted, even concerned, he does not seem all that surprised I just pulled a knife on him.
I should have recognized it earlier: The patterns, the tells. Controlled expression. Maintaining distance. Aksel is hiding something.
“Sophia!” Charlotte calls my name.
Deftly, Aksel returns to his composed mask of civility. “See you around,” he says under his breath.
Beside me, he unlocks an olive-green ’97 Land Rover Defender. A half meter of snow is piled on the roof, much more than is on the ground—how far up Eagle Pass does he live?
Aksel steps into the driver’s seat, the line of his jaw clenched tight.
I bite my lip to prevent the tears. I’m not adjusting to life in Waterford. I am anxious—skeptical of nearly everything, and everyone.
Actually, I’m paranoid. I’ve been paranoid since we left Tunisia. I’ve been paranoid for eighteen months, and no amount of time living in Waterford can change that.
In the distance, I see the old red truck, rusty, with a broken taillight, turn out of the parking lot.
Reaching me, Charlotte’s eyes flit between me and the Defender driving off. She whistles under her breath, “Never Have I Ever …”
When I arrive home, my parents are in the study. I pour myself a cup of rooibos tea and walk to the living room, still thinking about Aksel and what happened outside Fish Market.
It’s exhausting: being suspicious, and experiencing a flashback, and trying to act normal …