B?o and Molly were closer to the kiddie pool where mothers still hovered and wrapped their little ones in towels.
Grace paused over one of the lounge chairs Molly had secured and pulled off her cover-up. Looking down at her legs, she winced. They were as pale as they had been since summer began. Her thighs looked like bread dough, soft and plump, small dimples dotting the surface.She let out a deep sigh before spreading her towel on the chair and finding comfort in the warmth of the sun.
“It’s nice the children enjoy being together.…” she said, stretching out. But Anh didn’t seem to be listening to her. She stood rigid at the foot of the plastic lounge chair, watching as Molly was taking B?o toward the main pool that was already crowded with swimmers. Women in bright floral bathing caps were doing laps in the two roped off lanes and teenagers were clowning around in clusters by the pool’s edge.
She watched vigilantly as Molly led him toward the entrance of the shallow section. He took a step in, his ankles submerged in the pale blue water, his hand wrapped around the metal banister.
Molly, a few feet ahead of him, was already waist-deep in the water.
“Come a little deeper,” she beckoned toward him with a wave of her hand. “I want to teach you a few strokes.” She gestured the breaststroke with her two gangly arms.
B?o’s fingers gripped tighter around the railing at Molly’s words. He hesitated for a moment before his body became stiff and he stood on the steps.
Above them, in her lifeguard tower, Katie held her whistle between her teeth and signaled to a group of boys to stop splashing, warning them they’d be pulled out of the pool if they didn’t stop.
“You’re okay,” Molly encouraged B?o as she came back to the steps and tried to coax him to take a few more strides into the pool.
B?o stands frozen. He can see and hear the sounds of the other children enjoying the cool, refreshing comfort of the water. But for him, the idea of going more than ankle-deep, as he had done for many weeks in the kiddie pool, is terrifying.
The water is full of life. Children’s laughter. Beach balls with rainbow stripes being thrown into the air. Toddlers with inflatable wings kicking toward their mother’s open arms.
But to B?o, the water draws him to that night he stood in the reeds with his mother and father beside him. His mother’s hand in his own.
He feels the memory overtake him. It penetrates his skin and snakes into every coil of his mind. He no longer inhales the chlorine from the pool, but the swampy humidity of the Vietnamese shoreline. The marshy silt underneath his feet.
“B?o!” Molly laughs. “The water’s only up to here!” She gestures toward her waistline.
B?o takes another step, and the water comes up to his thigh.
He feels Anh’s eyes watching him, her own self-imposed patrol. Both of them know far too well the danger of water.
Finally, after several minutes of Molly’s coaxing, B?o manages to release his hand completely from the banister and treads into the pool. The cold water envelops his legs, and he feels his mind cleave into two sections. One half sees his mother beside him and the other half, a new friend. Molly’s arms are open, and she is smiling. Her braces catch the light as she opens up her mouth in a wide grin.
“You’re halfway there,” Molly encourages. Intuitively, she knows today is not the day to ask him to put his head into the water or to teach him how to turn his head and cup for breath.
Instead, she just splashes water at him. The two of them laugh as Katie shrieks her whistle and tells Molly she has been warned.
CHAPTER 57
INSIDE THE WALLS OF THE FORT, BEHIND THE PLASTIC TARP THEboys have used to mark the entrance, Clayton and Buddy are flat on their backs, their arms and legs stretched out on the dirt floor. Over the past three weeks, they have managed to build the structure using everything from the tiny saplings in the forest to discarded pieces of plywood and scavenged Coke cans. Intense satisfaction with themselves washes over them as only this morning they finished the final touches.
Clayton is immensely proud that he has successfully engineered a roof using an old boat tarp he found in his neighbor’s weekly garbage heap. Now, with the plastic sheeting above their head and the dark soil underneath their backs, they breathe in their accomplishment.
“It’s finally done,” Buddy exhales, his chest rising and falling beneath his yellow T-shirt.
Clayton lets out a grunt. “It needs a feature to make it even cooler than this … like a firepit in the center or something rad like that.”
He turns on his side, and his dungarees fall slightly around the nobs of his hips. Buddy notices a long, raised welt that snakes around past his waistband.
Clayton takes one of the remaining twigs and draws a circle between them. “We can build it right here. Dig out a hole in the center and mark the perimeter with small rocks.”
Buddy is tired and only half listening, but Clayton is already pulling him up from the ground. “Come on, jerkoff … let’s finish it. After we’re done, we can steal some beers from my dad’s fridge downstairsand celebrate we made a kick-ass castle for ourselves.” He ran his fingers though his pale, corn silk hair. His eyes are as steely as they are blue.
“I want this whole damn thing done before school starts.”
Buddy inches himself to the ground. “Can’t we wait until tomorrow? I’m exhausted.”
Clayton stands over Buddy with his arms folded.“I said, GET UP!”His voice is the edge of a knife. It slices through Buddy with cold precision. “What kind of viper are you, anyway?”
