When I wake up in the morning, I check my computer and see that Melanie is already online. (Her icon is the picture of Spider-Man hanging upside down kissing Kirsten Dunst.) I decide to test the waters and IM her.
SwimFast203: Are you still talking to me?
:(
(There’s a long pause.)
MrsMaguire: Give me a reason I should.
SwimFast203: 7 years BFF vs. 10 minutes drama queen.
(Another pause)
MrsMaguire: You’re lucky I’m generous.
SwimFast203: :)
SwimFast203: You like him, don’t you?
MrsMaguire: Doesn’t matter. He’s hot for someone.
SwimFast203: Michelle Nagler?
MrsMaguire: No, idiot! You!
SwimFast203: Impossible!!!!! Did he tell you that?
MrsMaguire: He didn’t have to.
SwimFast203: Then why do you think that?
MrsMaguire: Well he didn’t offer to walk me home.
SwimFast203: LOL. I’ve got to go to work.
MrsMaguire: C U L8R
SwimFast203: Ciao.
Melanie can’t be right about Grayson. I’ve worked with him almost a month now, and I’ve never gotten that vibe. Besides, I’m way too focused on another hottie at the moment.
I have no idea what s going to happen between Alex and me. I thought I did while we were holding hands and watching Blue Crush. But then there was the whole botched-kiss-run-over-his-foot thing.
As I drive over to his house, I try to brace myself for what his reaction to yesterday might be. I don’t know what the face-to-face equivalent of Radio Karma is, but when he opens the door I think his expression should give me a hint about our future.
I knock and take an anxious breath.
“Hi! You must be Jane.”
Not what I was expecting. The voice is shrill and ear-shattering. I look up and see a woman I can only assume is Alex’s stepmother. I say “assume” because she says, “I just absolutely insist that you call me Josie. Like the Pussycats.”
She’s one of those grown-ups who is desperate to feel cool and hip around kids. (That’s what I love about my dad. His jokes are so dopey and uncool that kids actually do like to be around him.) Within seconds, Josie is blabbing away like she’s one of the girls.
I’m with Alex: I can’t stand her.
She’s a “Stacey’s Mom” wannabe. Her face has had too many BOTOX treatments, collagen injections, and chemical peels. Not to mention a religious commitment to tanning beds. Her breasts defy gravity, and her hair has not seen its original color during my lifetime. (Secretly, this woman is what I’m hoping Crystal will become.)
She leads me to Alex, who is in the kitchen.
“Here’s our little Pollywog,” she says, managing to be supportive and demeaning at the same time.
“How’s your foot?” I ask when I reach him in the kitchen.
“Fine,” he says curtly.
At first, I get the sense that he’s giving me the cold shoulder. (Can you blame him? He kissed me, and I tried to hobble him.) It’s not until we’re outside and in the pool that I realize the cold shoulder is directed at her and not me. (Thank God.)
There’s no way for us to resume flirting, because Josie has decided to lie out and work on her tan. (Her next shade will be charcoal.) Her bikini is smaller than mine, and when she lies on her stomach, her butt does a wicked impression of cottage cheese.
Be careful, Bikini Jane. This could be your future.
Alex and I focus on the swimming. (We also try to avert our eyes from Josie at all times.)
I’m amazed at how much better he’s gotten. I’d like to think that it s my teaching. But it’s more a matter of his determination. When the lesson’s done, he walks me to the car. It’s the first time we’ve been alone the whole morning.
“Isn’t she the worst?” he says under his breath.
“She’s pretty dreadful,” I reply.
“How my father could leave my mother to marry her is beyond me.”
I can tell this really bothers him. And it should. So when we reach the car, I try to lighten the mood. I do my best Coach Latham impression: “Pretty soon you’re going to have to take your swim test,” I tell him. “That’s when we’ll separate the little boys from the little Pollywogs.”
“Bring it on!” he says. There’s that smile again. The one I see when I close my eyes.
This time I make sure the car is in park, in case he decides to try another lean-in and kiss. Just when I think he might, Josie walks around from the back.
“It was nice to meet you, dawg” (She’s watched way too many episodes of MTV Cribs.) “Peace out.”
Alex and I can’t help but bust out laughing. Still, I wave and shout back, “Peace out, Mrs. Walker.”
“Now, now, girlfriend, call me Josie.”
“Peace out, Josie.”
By the time I’m out of the driveway, I’m laughing so hard that tears are rolling down my face.
The weirdness of the day continues at Magic Waters. Grayson seems like he’s acting different. I don’t know if he is because I bolted the party and hurt his feelings. Or, maybe he’s acting normal but I think he’s acting different because Melanie said he likes me and now I’m acting different.
I have enough trouble reading someone under normal circumstances. But it’s nearly impossible to read someone who is dressed like a giant platypus.
After my shift I can’t track down either Mel or Becca. I decide to hit the pool at the Y and put in some work. One of the advantages of giving lessons is that I have my own set of keys. The pool is all mine.
The moon is full, and the water is inviting. I just hit the water and pound away. When I compete, I try to outthink the girls I’m up against. But the key to training is shutting off your mind and becoming a machine.
With each stroke I clear my mind just a little bit more. No more Bikini Jane or Plain Jane. Stroke after stroke. No Alex or Grayson. No Becca or Melanie. Just me and the pool.
I’m in full machine mode until something catches my eye in the middle of a flip turn. It’s a person watching me. I stop and take off my goggles. My vision’s a little blurry, but I realize it’s my mother.
“What are you doing here?”
She looks down at me, concerned. “I was looking for you.”
Panic. “Is something wrong? Is Dad okay?”
“Everyone’s fine. I was just worried. Becca and Melanie called. You didn’t answer your cell. No one knew where you were.”
“Sorry, I can’t hear the cell in the water.”
I still don’t get the sudden urgency. It’s not like I missed my curfew.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“I don’t know. Nine thirty, ten.”
She laughs. “It’s after midnight, Janey.”
Okay, maybe I did miss my curfew. But it can’t be midnight. I look at the clock on the pool deck and see that she’s right.
“How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. But it’s probably time that I got out of the water.”
She laughs some more. “I think so.”
I climb out and towel off. I feel exhausted and great at the same time. It’s the kind of relaxed that only comes when you’re totally spent.
I can tell that Mom’s not mad about my being late, but she still looks concerned. “Baby, is everything okay?”
I think about it for a moment. I’ve got a guy I like. A job that’s fun. And, I’m hopeful about getting a scholarship to a school I’d love.
“No, Mom. Everything’s better than okay. Everything’s great.”
“That’s an answer a mother wants to hear.”
I lock up the pool area, and we walk toward the parking lot. I look at her and realize that she’s actually prettier than Alex’s stepmom. She dresses nice, but not trendy. She’s got some gray and a few saggy spots, but all where they’re supposed to be. Secretly, this is what I’ve always dreamed I’d become.
“How’d you know where to find me?”
She looks at me like I’m insane. “Are you kidding? I’m your mother. I knew you’d be here.”
“How?”
“Because it’s where you feel the most comfortable.”
I look back at the pool through the chain-link fence. The water sparkles from the full moon, and the smell of chlorine fills the air. I realize that my mother is pretty smart. This is where I’m most comfortable.
I call to her as she gets into her car.
“You’re never going to call me or any of my friends ‘dawg,’ are you?”
“No,” she says. “I figure if I teach English, the least I can do is speak it. We’ll leave the nonsense to your father.”