Classes are over and everyone rushes out of the school, from all exits, a dash to the buses to get the best spot. Molly and I push our way toward the back of the school, where the pool and gym are. I finally have the chance to see if I made the team.
I scan the page several times but I don’t see my name. I try not to panic, because maybe I missed it, but I don’t see it.
“Molly, I didn’t get in,” I say quietly.
“Aww, it's okay,” she says.
We’re about to leave but she stops me.
“Kalua, this the list for volleyball,” Molly says.
“Oh…”
I was so excited to make the swim team, so I looked at the first poster on the board. My cheeks burn as I finally find my name on the list for GIRLS SWIM TEAM, in huge capital letters only. The new member meeting times are underneath, and they have one today and another next week. Molly hugs me, and I hug her back, and for another moment I’m no longer all jumbled inside like a ball of snakes. We let go and make plans to meet up later after sports, so we go our separate ways.
The hallways are empty now so I can freely run to the girl’s locker room and get my extra swimsuit I always keep on hand. I wear it underneath my gym clothes and try not to run again, so I don’t slip.
In the wide spacious pool, our school has both the boys' and girls’ swim teams meeting at the same time and sharing the pool. I breathe in the smell of chlorine which has now become relaxing to me and scan the entire place.
I’m in my element, the water is my home, and nothing can slow me down when I’m inside it. I walk around the pool, surveying my blue kingdom, and there is a bit of sadness. It’s not the same as the beach, but it’s still what I need. A twinge is in my chest when I stare at the water and it seems more sinister when I think about the old book in my backpack.
Would it drink all the water in this pool if I dropped it in?
I zone back in when someone calls for me.
“Hey, get over here!”
The tallest girl in the group is waving me over. She has dyed bright pink hair, and I’m a little jealous because she’s definitely pulling it off. When I walk over everyone says hi, as if we’ve always been friends, and it’s great. I’m immediately one of them and I feel a little shy, and they can tell, but it’s okay because it’s your first day, don’t worry about it, they tell me. They’re all people I’ve seen around, but I finally know their names today.
Jennifer, Ashley, Samantha, and so many more.
The pink-haired girl is Amanda, and her loud voice echoes without any hesitation through the pool.
“Amanda, are you capable of whispering,” Ashley asks.
“Don’t be jealous,” Amanda retorts.
“Jealous of what?”
Everyone laughs as they go on and on, and we turn when we notice the guys come over. Suddenly everyone gets quiet.
“They always do this, and they don’t want to talk about practice,” Jennifer says.
“Yes, they do. About how we can practice so many things together,” Amanda replies. “We can study for anatomy class together.”
Everyone stifles their laughter the closer they get, and when the guys are up close, I see another familiar face.
It’s the freckled guy from earlier.
I awkwardly stare at him and he does it back. I don’t know what to do or say, so I start opening and closing my mouth again, but the words aren’t ready to leave yet. Thankfully he speaks first.
“Why do you wash your books in a public water fountain,” he asks.
People stop talking and turn to listen once they hear what he says.
“Don’t lie,” I lie.
“I’m not lying,” he shouts back.
We start arguing and the only thing we’d done since we met each other was shout. Everyone turns their heads away because the shouting match brought the attention of both of our coaches.
Everyone does extra laps that evening.
After practice I’m waiting for Molly on the bleachers, exhausted. Everyone else has gone, and I’m a little impatient, but I wait. I take out the old book and consider another experiment now that the place is empty. I walk down the bleachers, over to the pool, and hold the book out over the pale, cerulean, still water.
I’m zoned out again while I try to decide and I don’t notice that someone is there until they close.
Roan.
The freckled guy’s name is Roan, like someone couldn’t spell Ryan, and they replaced it with an O.
His hands are in his pockets, he sighs uncomfortably, and he asks me, “Are you seeing someone?”
I turn so red, and I feel like I’m shrinking inside again, back in the hallway. The stare of one person waiting for a reply makes me shyer than all the people looking at me earlier. He looks concerned for soe reason. I clutch the book close to my chest and can’t find words again.
“Are you seeing someone,” he asks again.
“No… I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say.
He makes the same face earlier when he caught me watering my book in the fountain.
“What? No! That’s not what I meant,” Roan shouts.
“What else could you mean,” I mumble.
“Are you seeing a therapist? Because this is pretty weird dude.”
“You’re weird,” I shout back.
“You obsessed with water, is that why you joined the team?”
“Shut up!”
Words are easy when we’re arguing, and soon another challenger enters the arena. Molly enters the pool area from the front entrance and sees us arguing. She starts running over to defend me, but she slips and falls on the hard tile.
“Molly are you-”
I let go of the book and it starts to sink to the bottom of the pool. It’s too late to decide, my clumsiness making another decision for me. I walk over to Molly and help her up while Roan stares at the pool from afar.
“Who is that guy? Is he messing with you,” Molly shouts. “I’ll get him!”
“You just slipped, you couldn’t even get up from the floor,” I say.
“I can still do stuff!”
Molly walks faster now and I’m worried she might actually fight him. She gets close and is about to grab his shoulder, but she stops. We all turn to look into the pool and the water is slowly receding. Dark light is emanating from the bottom, swirling towards it, and eventually, the pool is empty.
Only a pair of lost goggles and the book remains.
"I think we might be in trouble," Molly states.
“We need to get the book,” I say.
“I’m not touching that,” Molly replies. She laughs nervously, and Roan looks all over the pool, searching for some sort of answer.
I don’t know what to say, so I try to focus on getting the book back. I bolt to the supply closet. I return with the longest pool net I can find and manage to get it in, and pull it right back up.
Roan and Molly back up as if I’ve picked up nuclear waste with the pool net, and stay clear when I pick the book up again.
The leather is now new, the book completely dry, and the letters not as faded. I open the first page, and there is no title, but there is an author.
By Kalua Kaʻanāʻanā.
The worst part is, it looks like my own handwriting, and I’m scared again.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I tell them.
“Who would I even tell about this,” Roan replies. He points to the empty pool and he is about to lose it.
“Who would believe me,” Roan says.
“I wouldn’t believe me right now,” Molly agrees.
“I’m going home,” Roan announces.
He leaves like there’s a fire under his pants and Molly slowly walks next to me, afraid of what will happen next. I don’t know what will happen next, but I do know one thing for sure.
“I can’t bring this back home,” I tell her.
“You can’t leave it in the school,” she whispers. “What if it… I don’t know, eats someone?”
“Does it eat people?”
I look at it waiting for a reply and it’s quiet. My brain goes fuzzy again and this time an answer comes quickly to me.
“I have an idea. Come with me to the woods near our house,” I tell Molly.
“Why?”
“We’re gonna get rid of it.”
My boots crunch on top of the frozen leaves, snow, and dead grass and Molly follows me from behind. We’re wearing our pink and orange jackets again, passing by naked trees whose clothes won’t return until spring. Dragging shovels across the forest floor leaves a trail through the snow, evidence of our future crime. In our backpacks, we brought lanterns, snacks, and bottled water. The air stings my cheeks and it’s getting dark, so we try to hurry.
We finally agree on a spot, deep in the woods, set our backpacks down, and get to work.
The easiest part was breaking ground, as tough and frozen over as it was, but the hardest part was making sure we dug deep enough. The lanterns made it easier to see when the sun finally gave its last breath, and sunk past the horizon. We took as few breaks as we could, and finally, when we felt it was deep enough, I opened my bag and took out the book.
I fling it into the hole and I feel invincible.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I tell the book.
“Kalua it’s a book, it can’t hear you,” Molly says.
“Yes, it can,” I reply. “It knows.”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I nod in agreement, and we quickly shovel the dirt back into the hole, collect as many sticks and leaves as we can to cover the mound, and run back to Molly’s house.
Mom thinks we’re having a sleepover, and she’s technically right. Mom also thinks Molly’s parents are home, but they rarely are. She doesn’t need to know everything. She definitely doesn’t need to know that I kept that book in the house.
Molly’s house is big and luxurious, one of the biggest houses in town. She moved here last year and understood how weird it was living close to almost nowhere with not enough people, so we became close.
The outside of her house has the prettiest big wooden doors I’ve ever seen for an entrance, and the inside has a foyer, or whatever she calls it. We fling off our coats and I walk past the small living room into the main living room. I’ve been here too many times, and it feels like a second home. It’s the big living room is cream and white all over, and I sink into the chair, relaxing while Molly makes us popcorn in the kitchen.
I only relax for a second because I hear her screaming.
I jump up and run, almost slipping on the hardwood floors and when I get to the kitchen, Molly is screaming in front of the microwave, hysterical, the uncooked popcorn bag in her hand.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt,” I ask.
“Open the door! Open the door,” she shouts.
I turn to go towards the front door but she repeats herself.
“The microwave, the microwave!”
My heart sinks.
I know what’s in it before I open it.
It’s the book.
I take it out of the microwave and open the first page again, my heart dancing in my chest. The author’s page has changed again.
By Kalua Kaʻanāʻanā and Molly Miller.
