The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)

Swimming with Andrea

Previously: "Submerged Identities" 

You wake into consciousness as though breaching the surface of a pool. Light fills your mind, and the shadows of sleep run off you like rivulets. You draw down a deep breath and look around. You have the vague impression that you're not alone.

The air of the cabin is musty and warm—the sun is beating down through the windshield—and you feel like you've woken from a very deep sleep. You grip the wheel and press back into the seat, stretching your legs. You frown at your hands: they seem small, and the wrists look delicate. You release the wheel and study your fingernails. They shine with a translucent polish. This strikes you as odd, for some reason.

Then you notice that you're half-undressed. When did you take off your shirt and shorts? When did you kick off your flip-flops? You see that you're at the school, but you always wait until you're inside the natatorium before stripping down to your swimsuit.

A movement outside catches your eye, and you flinch all over when you see Blake O'Brien swaggering toward you. There's a memory there, off to the side, behind your left eye, and if you can just find it—

Oh God!

Blake taps at the window. You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes, then drop them and push the button the sends the window down.

"How's it goin' in there?" he asks.

"Jesus." Your voice surprises you with its softness. "It's a mess, that's what it is."

He frowns. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, you're gonna have to give me a minute to get used to this. It's like me and someone else in here and we're arguing about who we are."

A faint light of alarm shows in Blake's eyes. "What do you mean? What's going on?"

"What I said! It's like I'm still trying to figure out who I am. I mean, don't worry," you hastily add, "I know who I really am, uh, Sydney. But sorting stuff out, figuring out whose shit belongs to—"

You feel a click of fear in your throat. He's the one who did this to me! you think as you stare at him.

No! you remind yourself, he's the one who gave this to me! And it's not even "him"! You shiver with the aftershocks of the panic attack. "I'm trying to figure out which memories and stuff go with which person," you mumble.

Blake's brow furrows. "You're already getting them? Whoa, that's great!"

"I guess. But it's like getting kicked in the head." You glance over at Andrea's discarded clothes. "Maybe if I get back into the rest of my things—"

"Yeah, and maybe you should hurry up doing it." He glances over his shoulder. "Here's some more people showing up."

You look past him, at the sedan that's flying toward you. That'll be Olivia. She'll have Jamie and a maybe a few other people with her.

"You bring a swimsuit?" you ask Blake.

"You know I didn't."

"Well, take Will and Sydney and go home, or something. You can't hang out with us if you're not in the pool."

Blake grunts. "Am I gonna see you tonight?"

"I thought you had to work at the Warehouse."

"Sure. But I've seen Andrea out there."

"Mm. We'll have to see. Who's playing?"

"Los Scorchicos." He makes a face.

Your heart is still beating hard, though it's slowing down. "Well, we'll see. I have to get back into my things. I'll talk to you later. Look for my text."

"Don't worry about that, babe." He leans in through the window, but you push him back, and he makes a wry face as you roll the window back up.

It takes maybe ten seconds for you to get back into the rest of Andrea's things, but even then you sit and watch in the rearview mirror as Blake saunters over to the just-arrived sedan. He holds open the passenger-side door for Jamie Bornholm. She flashes him a wide smile.

Yeah, you think a little sulkily, she's totally the type who'd be into him.

Then you think, That could be useful. You study Jamie. She has a big nose on a long face—she's been compared unkindly to a sea horse—and straight brunette hair that falls directly to the top of her shoulders. Would you like to be her? Maybe Sydney would. She's very silly, but she's popular, and gossip has it she's been with lots of guys.

You flinch, and with a start you realize it is you and Andrea both flinching. And who has Andrea been with? You tense as you fall back into her memories, letting them run over you like a waterfall.

None that count.

Before you can skim more deeply into her memories, you catch Jamie smiling over at you. Time to see if you can do this, you tell yourself. You pull the keys from the ignition, tuck them into your workout bag, and get out of the car.

Sunlight drenches your naked limbs.

"Come on!" you call to the girls—Olivia and Jamie and Christine Coolidge. Also Matthew Adams, who is a sophomore member of the swim team, and who is soft enough and pretty enough to count as a girl, and who flirts hard with them.

Jamie dimples up at Blake and says something. He shrugs. She giggles at him, and glances over at you. "Can Blake get in the pool with us?" she calls. "He doesn't have swimsuit."

"Then no he can't," you call back.

"Can he come in and hang out?"

You shake your head and turn away, but not before you see the pinched look in her eyes. "See you guys later," Blake calls out, but you ignore him, even though he's probably waving at you.

It's what Andrea would do.

* * * * *

But you put aside all thoughts of Sydney and the Brotherhood once you're inside the natatorium, in order to more fully be Andrea Varnsworth. It's not all that hard, not with the members of the swim team she captains. Mostly it involves keeping your mouth shut, speaking only when directly spoken to (which isn't very often), and quietly directing them on what you expect of them—orders which are followed with all apparent meekness.

These Saturday afternoon swim sessions are not part of regular practice, and not everyone turns out for them. Not even the best swimmers on the team, like Nathan Cruz, turn out for them. They simply started out as something Andrea did alone, for herself. She has a key to the natatorium—all the squad captains have a key to whatever building is germane to their sport—and from the end of summer she would come up to the school on weekend mornings to swim by herself. Word got out that that's what she was doing, and first one girl—Olivia—and then others, and then some of the guys and even some of the underclassmen, began to join her.

You're first into the water, and after ten laps you pause to watch the crowd that's gathered at the other end. Then you dive back under, to smother their echoing babble. You'd love to tell them all to get the hell out, and leave the pool to you, the way it was at the start of the semester.

And it's not even the good members of the team who show up. It's the partygoers (Jamie and Christine) and the suck-ups (Olivia and Rachel Burton and Heaven Granberry) and the guys who like to hang out with the partygoers and the suck-ups (Matthew and Isaiah Lee). No wonder Jamie thought she could talk you into letting Blake hang out poolside. As far as she's concerned, it is a Saturday-afternoon pool party.

The only one who seems to take it as seriously as Andrea—who does as many laps and who steers clear of the others—is Ethan Brown, who is probably the best swimmer on the team only after Andrea herself. Here's not here today, though, which is lucky, for he usually arrives before Andrea and is waiting for her, so you were running a real risk in trying to ambush Andrea when you did.

The others have noticed his absence, too. "Where's Ethan this morning?" Christine asks when you're resting nearby, clutching the side of the pool. You made the mistake of surfacing near where she's sitting with her phone in her hands. It takes you a moment to realize she's talking to you. You shrug.

"I thought maybe you'd know," she says. "He didn't text you, tell you he wouldn't be here?"

"No. Why would he?"

"I just thought he'd like to keep you posted." Her lips twist into a mockery of a smile. "You're both always up here early together." Her eyes glint with meaning.

You push away, flip backwards to dive to the bottom of the pool, then swim to the furthest corner before breaching the surface again. Your limbs are sore and a little numb, but you throw yourself back into another lap.

* * * * *

Yes, Andrea is always up at the pool early, and she stays late as well. So you swim for another hour after everyone else has gone, exhausting and delighting yourself, and you sprawl out poolside when you're finally done. You're still at the school when you get a text from Blake: can i stop by ur house?

That would be great, except Andrea's mom will be home, and Andrea herself tends to get drop-by company, so it wouldn't be the two of you alone. You explain this when you counter with a proposal to meet someplace else.

is ur mom a milf? he texts back. maybe copy her n sm of ur frends?

Centering the Brotherhood on Andrea's friends? That is an idea.

And yes, Andrea's mom is a MILF.

Next: "Green Meanies" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 3)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)"