Breathless (16 page)
After practice one day, Solinger keeps me late. He takes me into his office and pushes a pamphlet across his desk for me to look at.
It’s an application for Yale University.
“I’m only a sophomore,” I remind him.
“I know that. But every summer they accept two hundred high school students—just two hundred—to study there.” He adds, as though it isn’t obvious, “It’s a huge honor, Katie.”
But I’ve been looking forward to spending the summer in Woodsdale with my friends, swimming at school every day for as long as I wanted, spending all my free time with Drew. I’ve already gotten the okay from my parents, and Mazzie and I have already claimed a room to share at Lindsey’s house.
“I don’t know,” I say. “What does this have to do with swimming?”
Solinger leans back in his chair and clasps his hands behind his head. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of red swimming trunks and flip-flops. “It has
everything
to do with swimming. You know Yale has the largest college athletic center in the country. I’ve already talked to the coach. You can practice with the team.” He adds, before I can ask, “They practice year-round, unofficially. So this will give you a head start at getting in. You do well there, you go back next summer and do even better, and you’re in like Flynn.”
He licks his lips, grinning at me, and gives me a wink. “Come on, Kitrell. You want to be captain, right? You do this and you’ll be the first junior captain we’ve ever had.”
I smile. Grace will be seething with jealousy. And Drew can always come visit me.
But there’s Mazzie, too—what is Mazzie going to do?
And there’s so much else—will I even get in?
“You’ll get in,” Solinger assures me. “Trust me. I’ve made a few calls. You’ll get in.”
I pick up the application. It’s never crossed my mind before that someone like me could end up going to an Ivy League school. Even though I’ve been at Woodsdale almost a full year, there is still a feeling of separateness. People from Hillsburg just don’t get that far away, no matter how hard they try.
Estella has an expression that she loves to use around me, anytime she catches me doing something even slightly wrong, like forgetting to put my napkin in my lap as soon as we sit down for meals. “You can take the girl away from the white trash, but you can’t take the white trash out of the girl.”
Mazzie will be okay without me. I mean, she’ll just
have
to be.
Solinger slides an envelope across the desk.
“What’s that?”
“It’s your letter of recommendation. You need two. Mrs. Martin has another one waiting for you, back at the dorm.”
“I’ll have to talk to my parents.”
“I’ve already spoken with them.” Solinger rocks in his chair. “Katie, don’t you get it? You’ve got a
gift,
honey. Everything is going to happen for you. All you have to do is keep swimming.”
When I walk into my room on the first day of preseason, Mazzie is sitting on my bed, wearing a tank top and underwear, bouncing a tennis ball off the floor.
She doesn’t so much as look at me. “It’s you.”
“Yep.” I put my suitcases down. In the corner of the room, there’s a tennis racket and several bottles of balls. “You’re playing tennis now?”
“I’ve always played tennis,” she lies. “How was Yale?”
“Amazing.” And it was. I earned straight As in all of my classes, went swimming every day, and Drew came to see me every weekend. But Mazzie already knows this; she and I have been talking on the phone all summer.
“I was hoping you’d decide not to come back.” She sighs, lying back in bed, her legs dangling over the side, toes barely grazing the floor.
I narrow my eyes, grinning. “That’s why you’ve been sleeping in my bed? Because you can’t stand the sight of me?”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” she says, “the top bunk doesn’t have any sheets on it. That’s yours now.”
“Mazzie,” I say, sitting down on the bottom bunk beside her, putting my head on her shoulder, “these are my sheets.”
The big news on campus is that, just a few days earlier, Estella dumped Stetson. Fewer than twenty-four hours later, she was spotted holding hands with Jeremy Chase, who is also a senior.
Over the summer, Stetson was in a minor car accident that left him with a torn tendon in his right arm. He can still play water polo well enough to stay on varsity, but he isn’t the captain anymore. The new captain is Jeremy Chase.
And I’m the new girls’ varsity swimming captain.
“It’s a big job, honey,” Solinger says to me as we’re sitting in his office. He hands me my new swimsuit that says “Captain” below my last name, and winks; he’s always winking at the girls. “It’ll be easy for you, right?”
“Absolutely,” I say, staring at the swimsuit.
“I hear you did great this summer.”
I grin. “Yep.”
“You still dating Bailey?”
When I nod, Solinger says, “That’s good. Drew is a little fussy, you know?”
I sure do.
“But he’s the whole package: talent, good head on his shoulders, all the smarts he’s ever gonna need . . .” He studies me for a moment, shakes his head a little bit. “You kids never fail to amaze me. You come in here and you know how to get things done.” He glances at his watch, knocks on his desk, and says, “I have ultimate Frisbee in five minutes. Gotta go. But—hey Katie—you should stick with Drew. He’s a good decision for you.” Solinger seems to be struggling with his words. “That’s part of what you’re here to learn—how to make the right kind of decisions in life. Do you know what I’m saying?”
Life is good. Being captain is demanding—I have to come early and stay late at almost every practice—but since Drew is the captain of the boys’ team, we get to be there together.
Things with Drew are great too. They’re fine. It’s funny—the more you get to know someone, the more you get to see how different they are from what everybody else thinks of them.
It’s one of those rare Saturday evenings when there’s nothing to do. Drew is out of town, visiting relatives with his mom. Lindsey has a bad cold and has gone home for the weekend to recuperate. The dorm is practically empty except for me and Mazzie. We’re in our pj’s, lying on the couch in the common room, watching a movie together. It feels like one of the first times I’ve been able to relax all year.
My eyelids are beginning to flutter, my body going limp as I fall asleep, when Estella barges into the room.
“Katie.
There
you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I glance over at Mazzie. She’s asleep, or at least, her eyes are closed.
“Shh.” I sit up. “What’s the matter?”
“Do you have any condoms?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Sorry.”
Estella scowls. “At least go
look.
You’ve got to have one in the back of your sock drawer or something.”
“Estella . . . why don’t you just go buy some?”
“Because I don’t want to drive all the way to the store. Come on, Katie, just go look.” She clasps her hands together and gives me her sweetest grin. “Pretty please?”
I should just say I’m out, or that I’m on the pill. But I don’t think fast enough. “We don’t use condoms,” I say.
Her hands go to her hips. “Then what do you use?”
“We don’t use . . . anything.” I lower my gaze. Mazzie is the only other person who knows that Drew and I don’t have sex; I don’t know why I’m telling Estella. I think it’s because I’m just so
frustrated
by the whole situation. I want confirmation that there’s something wrong with Drew, not me.
Estella’s mouth drops open. Slowly, her lips curl into a grin. “Do you mean to tell me,” she says, enjoying every word as it leaves her mouth, “that you and Drew haven’t had sex yet?”
I just stare at her. I don’t say anything.
“Oh. My. God. Katie, why haven’t you
told
me this before?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s a little embarrassing.”
“Well . . .
yeah.
What’s up with him?” She claps a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. It’s the religion thing, isn’t it?”
Again, I don’t answer, which tells her everything she needs to know.
Estella is excited, rising up and down on her tiptoes in front of the TV. “This is really interesting, Katie. You know, before you got here, Drew dated Amanda Hopwood for, like, a year. I was
certain
they were doing it. Even Stetson thought so.”
“Why were you so sure?” I ask.
“Because she’s
Amanda Hopwood.
She’s like a revolving door.”
I give Estella a blank look.
“You know,” she says, annoyed, “
everybody gets a turn.
”
Estella speaks more quickly now, her voice rising as the truth unravels. “Amanda told me she and Drew broke up because she wouldn’t sleep with him. I
knew
that didn’t make any sense. And I was right. That’s not why they broke up at all, is it? I bet . . .” Her eyes are practically glowing now. She smacks a palm to her forehead in epiphany. “I bet
she
broke up with
him
because he wouldn’t sleep with
her.
And she didn’t want to admit it because . . . well, because even a slut like Amanda’s gotta have some pride.”
I feel a little sick to my stomach. Estella rushes over to me, eyes still flashing with excitement, and presses both of her hands to my cheeks so hard that it hurts. Her fingernails dig into my skin. “Katie. I want to tell everybody.”
I shake my head. “Please don’t.”
“Can I tell Lindsey?”
I hesitate. But there’s no saying no to Estella. “Okay.”
“Can I tell Jeremy?”
“Estella . . .”
“How the hell am I supposed to keep something like this a secret? Does he want to save himself for
marriage
?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God. Katie. They make
documentaries
about people like him.”
“Estella, listen to me. Every time you feel tempted to tell somebody, I want you to find me. You can tell me all about how Drew Bailey is still a virgin. And every time you tell me, I’ll pretend to be hearing it for the first time.”
Estella nods to herself. “That’s a good idea, Katie. Okay, I’ll try it.”
She gets up to leave, still shaking her head at the bombshell she’s learned. When she reaches the door, she turns to look at me again. “Do you think Mazzie has any condoms?” she whispers.
I give her a smirk. “What do you think?”
“Right,” she says. “Well . . .” She sighs, looking around the room. Her gaze lands on the kitchenette. “Do you think Saran wrap would work?”
As soon as Estella is gone, Mazzie opens her eyes. “Hi.”
I don’t say anything. I’m sitting on the sofa, my arms crossed against my chest.
“What’s the matter?” she asks.
“You’ve been awake the whole time?”
She nods.
“It’s just so
frustrating.
And now Estella knows . . .”
Mazzie nods. “It is a little weird, I guess.”
Her response startles me. Of all people, I’d expect Mazzie to think Drew’s reluctance wasn’t such a big deal.
I nod to myself. “I know. It’s like . . .”
“Like a monkey who doesn’t want to eat bananas,” she supplies.
“Exactly.”
“So what are you going to do? Break up with him?”
Oddly enough, the thought hadn’t even occurred to me. Because I
do
love Drew. He’s kind and easy to be around, and we have a lot of fun together . . . when we’re not being physical. Anytime we start to go beyond making out, there’s an awkwardness that takes over and makes it hard for me to breathe around him.
I shake my head. “No,” I tell Mazzie. “I don’t want to do that.”
She nods. “Look at you . . . my virginal roommate.” She laughs out loud. “So
pure.
”
“Mazzie?”
“What?”
“Go to hell.”
It’s a Friday afternoon, after swimming practice. I’ve just broken the school record for fastest 400-meter freestyle. The summer has just turned a sharp corner into fall. The air is cool and crisp, the leaves beginning to change colors, and as Drew and I walk back to our dorms together holding hands, I try to describe to him how happy I’m feeling.
“I think autumn is my favorite season,” I say, taking a deep breath, my cheeks tingling against the cool air. “I don’t know why. Even though everything is dying, it all makes me feel so
alive,
you know? Do you ever feel like that?”
Drew nods. “I do. It feels like a gift, doesn’t it?”
“Yes!”
“Do you know who gave us this gift?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “God,” he says, beaming.
I’m in such a good mood that I don’t want to argue with him about religion. “That’s nice, Drew.” As we reach my dorm, I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him on the nose. “Thank God for you, Drew Bailey.”
My mother is in my room, talking to Mazzie like they’re old friends. As I open the door, I can hear her saying, “. . . and of course Katie’s dad is a mess, and our son is quite ill but he’ll be coming home, too—”
“Mother.”
I shut the door, hard. “What are you doing here?”
Mazzie is leaning against her desk, throwing a tennis ball into the air.
“Oh, Katie.” I can tell my mom has been crying. “I came to pick you up.”
I shake my head. “No way. I have a scrimmage in the morning, I have a chem lab—”
“Katie,” she interrupts.
My mom wouldn’t drive down here without any notice just for a visit. Something’s definitely wrong—things have been so good lately, it was only a matter of time before
something
bad happened. I don’t want to hear whatever’s coming, so I just press on, “—that’s due on Monday that I haven’t even started yet, and we’re supposed to go look at homecoming dresses this weekend.”
“Sweetie, it’s your grandpa,” my mom says.
Both of my maternal grandparents passed away years ago, so I know she’s talking about the Ghost’s father.
My mom’s lower lip trembles. She doesn’t say anything else.
I look at Mazzie, who is still throwing the tennis ball into the air, catching it with alternating hands. She stops for a moment, gives me a grave look, and says, “Dead.”
The last time I saw my grandpa was months ago, but even so he’d seemed fine. His real name was Edward, but he always insisted that Will and I call him Effie. My whole life, he always had bubble gum for me, called me Kit-Kat, and seemed delighted when Will and I confided our nickname for the Ghost to him.