Right away I can sense people staring, but I look straight ahead, head up, shoulders back. A sophomore girl whispers to her friend, “Damn . . .” and a couple of boys whistle. I walk like I don’t hear them; I walk like I own this school. This must be what it feels like to be Rennie.

I drop off my bag in my locker and only carry a purse, which is way sexier and more Marilyn than my school bag. I touch up my lip gloss, too. There’s five minutes before the bell rings, which means that Reeve will be by the vending machines with Alex and PJ like every morning.

Which they are; they’re leaning against the wall of lockers, eating donuts, except for Reeve, who is eating an apple. No Rennie, thank God. My heart is thudding in my ears as I wave hi and sail past them. I go straight for the vending machine. As I punch the numbers for chocolate donuts, I peek in the glass to see if Reeve is looking. He’s not. He’s polishing off his apple. I notice too that he doesn’t have his crutches anymore. And he’s traded in his soft cast for a walking boot.

PJ lets out a low whistle and calls out, “What are you all dressed up for, Lil?”

Turning slightly, I say, “I have to give a presentation in French class.” Which would totally make sense if I were giving a presentation on the Moulin Rouge.

“Très bien,” PJ says appreciatively, and I give him a curtsy.

My dress is too short for me to bend down and pick the donuts out of the slot. Luckily, Alex comes right up beside me. “You look—wow,” he says, in a low voice.

I can feel myself blushing. “Thanks.”

Alex stoops down and grabs my donuts and hands them to me. “Wow,” he says again. His eyes are wide, and he’s staring at me.

I try not to smile. I can’t remember—should I have already attempted physical contact with Reeve, or do I go straight to making him jealous? I don’t even know if he’s looking at us.

I’m about to sneak a quick peek at Reeve when I see Rennie coming down the hall with Ashlin. Quickly, I link my arm through Alex’s. “Walk me to class?” I chirp.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll be your bodyguard.”

Reeve’s looking at me now. His eyes flicker over me and then, just as quickly, away from me. Completely disinterested. He’s not even making an obnoxious joke about the way I’m dressed. He wipes off his mouth and tosses his apple core in the trash without another glance in my direction.

Maybe he’s still mad about the things I said to him on Halloween. Crap. If this plan of ours has any chance of working, I’m going to have to eat humble pie and apologize to him, which is the last thing I want to do.

At the lunch table, I’m all set to sit next to Reeve and make amends, but when I get there, he’s already sitting at the end and Rennie’s next to him. Her eyes go huge when she sees me in my getup, and I have to resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

I slide into the seat across from her. My plan is to pretend our Halloween fight never happened. “Hey, guys,” I say, opening my bottle of blueberry white tea.

She acts like she didn’t hear me, and then she puts her head on Reeve’s shoulder and says, “Do you want me to get you something from the lunch line, babe?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, shaking a box of Muscle Milk. “Okay, I’m gonna get some fries. I’ll be back in two secs.” Rennie practically skips over to the lunch line. When she’s gone, I lean forward and quickly whisper, “Hey, um, I’m sorry for those things I said on Halloween. I think I had too much to drink.”

My little apology barely registers. He says flatly, “Yeah, ya think?”

Clearly, Reeve’s not going to make this easy on me. How very Reeve of him. I swallow, lower my head, and then look up at him through my lashes. I’ve got to put on an Oscar-worthy performance here. In a contrite voice I say, “Reeve, I really am sorry. I should never have said that stuff to you . . . especially since you came to Fall Fest and tried your best to help me out, even with your injury.” I reach out and touch his arm lightly.

Reeve moves his arm away from me. “I didn’t come to Fall Fest to help you out. I did it because I made a commitment to the kids.” He tips back in his chair.

This isn’t working, like, at all. I’m going to have to change tactics. Maybe tell the truth a little. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Rennie and I are sort of in a fight. It’s been . . . hard, and I think I took it out on you because you were there. So, I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t mean any of those things I said.” Well, that part’s a lie.

Reeve shrugs and takes a swig of milk.

Gee, thanks for being so understanding, Reeve. Thanks a whole bunch.

CHAPTER TWENTY

It’s after five; everyone’s already left school for the day. We are sitting in the last two rows of the auditorium. Lillia’s next to Kat, who’s got her combat boots up on the seat in front of her, and I’m perched backward on a seat in the row in front of them.

Lillia unwraps a light brown Tootsie Pop and waves it around. “First lick?” she asks me and Kat. We both shake our heads.

“Update!” Kat shouts, clapping her hands. “Update! Update! Update!” I clap along with her, because this is super exciting.

Lillia swirls the lollipop around in her mouth. “Well, I pranced right by him before homeroom and he barely looked at me. It was actually kind of insulting, now that I think about it. I mean, yeah, I screamed at him on Halloween, but he’s a guy. Aren’t guys are supposed to be always horny? He’s hooked up with every girl in school but he can’t give me the time of day?” She sighs. “And after I spent all that time on my hair and makeup too.”

“He was probably trying to hide his boner,” Kat says, chewing on her fingernail. “You look fierce as f**k, Lil.”

Lillia laughs. “Um, thanks?”

“In Spanish class I overheard Connor Dufresne describing what you had on today with, like, an insane amount of details,” I offer. “He said you’re the hottest senior by far. He said—”

“Second hottest,” Kat booms, and we all laugh. “Don’t stress yet, Lil. We’re only getting warmed up. Today was about laying down the foundation. Next we kick it up.”

“How?” Lillia asks. “I apologized to him today at lunch and he didn’t want to hear it. And he’s hardly ever alone, what with Rennie the Parasite constantly clinging to him.”

I clear my throat. “I know a place where he goes to be alone.” Looking down, I wind my hair around my finger. “The swimming pool.”

Surprised, Lillia says, “Reeve’s joining the swim team?”

“No, it’s for his physical therapy. He’s there every day, ever since he got his hard cast off.” I’m sure I sound like a stalker, but whatever. This is too good an opportunity for us to pass up. I fix my eyes on her. “Lillia, start swimming in there with him! It’ll be the two of you; no one’s there after school.”

Lillia’s already shaking my head. “Mary, I don’t swim. Tell her, Kat!”

“Lil doesn’t swim,” Kat confirms.

“You don’t know how?” I ask.

“I know how, but I hate it,” Lillia says, defensive. “And Reeve knows I don’t swim. He’ll be suspicious if I start showing up at the pool all of sudden!”

Soothingly, Kat says, “Chill, Lil. Nobody’s throwing you in the water today.” But Lillia’s still shaking her head. And then Kat’s face lights up. “Wait! Don’t you have to take the swim test to graduate?”

“My family doctor wrote me a note,” Lillia says, lifting her chin high. “I mean, my dad did.”

Kat’s so excited she’s practically vibrating. “That’s it, Lil! There’s your excuse. You’re practicing for the test.”

Lillia crosses her arms. “I told you, I’m not taking the test! I already turned in the doctor’s note. What am I supposed to do now? Walk into Mr. Randolph’s office and tell him that my aquaphobia is miraculously cured?”

“Reeve doesn’t have to know you’re not taking the test! Pretend like you are. All you have to do is paddle on a kickboard,” Kat urges. “Like, literally doggy-paddle around the shallow end. And don’t forget that Reeve’s an awesome swimmer. He set the Jar Island record for br**ststroke when he was like, ten, and bitches still haven’t beat it yet! Even with his gimp leg, he could swim you to safety easy!”

Stiffly, Lillia says, “I’m not worried about drowning.”

“Then what are you worried about? This plan is foolproof. If you’re in the same physical vicinity as him, the two of you alone? Day after day?” She snaps her fingers. “ He won’t be able to keep that act up for long.”

Lillia looks a little queasy. I guess I can’t blame her. Day after day of having to face Reeve Tabatsky in a bathing suit would give me anxiety too. She turns to me, biting her lip. “What are you thinking?” she asks.

I take a deep breath. I don’t want to put Lillia in a situation she’s uncomfortable with, but then again, what other options do we have? “I’m thinking Kat’s right,” I say at last. “Will you at least try it, Lillia? For me?”

Lillia stares at me and then breaks into a laugh. She nudges Kat and, keeping her eyes on me, says, “How can I say no to that face? I’m not like Rennie. If my friend needs me, I’m there.”

Later, when I get home, Aunt Bette is up in the attic. I press my ear to the door and hear the scratching of her brush against the canvas. I close my eyes and smile, relieved. She’s painting again, thank God. I guess my tough love speech worked. Aunt Bette is always happiest when she’s working. And our house could use that kind of positive energy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

After school lets out, I go straight to the pool. The building is empty, and there’s a bluish cast because of the lighting. I hate the smell of chlorine. I set my teddy-bear beach towel along with my flip-flops down on the bleachers next to Reeve’s walking cast and his towel and gym bag. I’m wearing a white bikini with embroidered daisies and ties on the sides. It’s my cutest one. I tie my hair into a bun so it won’t get super wet.

Reeve’s already in the water. He’s got floats tied to his legs, and he’s curling his legs inward and outward, grimacing as he uses his arms to push himself forward. He’s focusing so hard it doesn’t seem like he’s noticed me, so I clear my throat. His head jerks up. “What are you doing here?” he demands.

“I’m here to practice for the swim test,” I say. “It’s a graduation requirement.”

“Well, don’t bother me,” he says. “I’m here to work, not to talk. That’s why I come here alone.”

“But you asked me—”

“I need this lane and I need this stuff here,” he says. “Don’t touch any of it.” Then he goes back to his exercises.

Seething, I grab a kickboard from the stack and make my way over to the pool ladder at the deep end. It seems like this pool only has deep ends, no shallow ends. I start to go down one rung at a time, very carefully. The water is heated, but it still feels icy to me. I’ve already got goose bumps. This is so not worth it.

And my feet are still planted on the ladder.

If I were to take the swim test, I’d have to dive in and get from one end of the pool to the other two times without stopping to rest. Plus tread water for three minutes, plus float for one minute. I can’t do any of those things.

I mean, I know how to doggy-paddle. I don’t know the official strokes or whatever, but who cares? I’m not going to drown in my own pool. I don’t like putting my head underwater. I don’t like not being able to breathe. So sue me. I have plenty of other forms of exercise that I actually enjoy, like cheering, and horseback riding, and tennis and golf. Why should I be forced to swim?

I hold on to the side for a minute, one arm on the wall and one arm clutching my kickboard. My feet can’t touch the bottom, which makes me feel panicky. Whenever I’m in my pool at home, I stay in the shallow end.

Meanwhile, Reeve has ditched the floats and is swimming like he’s an Olympian, lap after lap after lap. He barely even comes up for air. He’s pushing himself hard, maybe too hard. He’s doing the butterfly stroke, and his arms knife through the water powerful and sure, but his leg trails limp behind him. I have to admit it makes me feel better knowing he’s here. Like, if something did happen, no matter how much he hates me, he wouldn’t let me drown.

I don’t think.

I let go of the wall and start using the kickboard, holding on tight. I kick and kick my way down the lane, bobbing above the water, trying to keep water from splashing in my face. This is hard work, plus I keep feeling paranoid I didn’t tie my bikini top tight enough. My swimsuits have always been purely decorative; they’ve never seen this much action. All in all it takes me forever—Reeve’s done three laps by the time I make it to the end.

Reeve doesn’t stop or acknowledge me until he’s finished with his laps. I’m floating by the ladder waiting for him to finish like some kind of swim groupie, if such a thing even exists. When he’s finally done, he yanks off his goggles and looks up at the big clock on the wall and lets out an annoyed gust of air.

Then he puts his goggles back on and starts doing laps again.

What, since his football career is a bust, he’s trying out for swim team now? I look down the length of the pool. It’s so long. I’m tempted to go home. But I’ve only been in the water for like fifteen minutes. I suck in a deep breath and kick off from the wall and start paddling on my kickboard again. I concentrate hard, imagining I am a duck. Kick-kick-kick.