“Just so you know,” she says, voice hard and steady. “It doesn’t matter that you can’t build a shelter or start a fire or any of that stuff. I don’t care about that. What I do care about is having a teammate who will actually workwithme.”
Then she leaves. I want to follow or call out with another apology, but my shame keeps me silent and rooted in place. By the time I’ve gathered the courage to say what needs to be said, Seyoon’s out of earshot.
I messed up.
13
BREAKING THE ICE (I LIED. IT’S WATER)
SEYOON
The water is freezing this early in the morning, but I’m committed to swimming three laps around Summit Lake before today’s Survival of the Skillest challenge. Swimming’s always been an outlet for me. Stressed? Do some crawl strokes until you’re too tired to think. Angry? Scream under the water until the lifeguard tells you toquit that, what’s wrong with you?
So I keep pushing, driving my arms over my head and into the water, kicking my legs hard enough to ward off the numbing cold. Swim season is in the winter, which means shivering through laps is muscle memory. But before coming here, I hadn’t swum since state championships in February—which happened to be the last sporting event Appa drove me to.
Umma had picked up an extra shift that evening and wasn’t able to come, so when he dropped me off, I did something I never had before: I asked him to stay and watch. He paused for a long time before eventually agreeing, telling me to go on ahead and he’d find parking first. The aquatic center was huge, with unending rows of bleachers high above the pools, so I couldn’t spot him through my dark-tinted goggles when I was down in the lanes. I got second place in the 800m.
He was waiting by the front entrance for me when I finished. On the drive back, the only thing he mentioned was that the girl in lane five beat me by a single stroke.
But the way the morning sun is rising over Mount Rainier’s silhouette doesn’t remind me of state champs. It reminds me of learning to swim in the Willamette River as a kid. The water was just as icy then, and the sky a similar shade of slate blue. Umma would take me every morning during my summer break before she had to go to work, so we went really early, when it was still dark and cold. But we went every day.
Not for the first time since getting here, I think of Umma. I wonder if she’s lonely. I hope she’s eating okay. I miss her.
On the last leg of my second lap, I glide by the docks and hear a splash, then a muffled “Fuck!” while under the water.
I pause and look back. Hanging onto the dock for dear life is Dean: shirtless and shivering like a drowning poodle.
“H-hi,” he says between chattering teeth. “Wanna race?”
“What?”
Wincing, he slowly lowers the rest of his body into the water and swims toward me. Or tries to. He can stay afloat at least, which is… something.
“Do you want to race?” he asks again when he’s a foot in front of me, like I couldn’t hear him the first time. Instead of answering, I cross my arms and glare at him. He watches me tread water just by kicking my legs. “Wow. That’s impressive.”
“You’re ruining my relaxing morning swim,” I say.
“How could this possibly be relaxing? The water’s freezing.”
“Then, get out.”
I start kicking myself backward, still crossing my arms and glaring at him. Dean pouts—pouts, God, he actuallyisa wet puppy—and follows after me at a slower pace.
“You said you wanted to race. Winner can choose our alliance name, right?” Dean stops, letting me swim farther away. A smile lights up his face. “Look—you win.”
I scoff. “That was when I still wanted to team up with you. Besides, don’tgiveme a win. It’s only worth something if you actually try.”
“But we both know you’d crush me, so I’d rather not drown trying to prove it.”
I finally stop floating away. Dean paddles over. His blond curls are fully matted to his head, and he pushes them up and out of his face. A shy, fluttering smile forms. It’s a while before he can meet my eyes. “Um. Hi.”
My gaze darts to his dimples, then back. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to make amends?”
“Is that a question?”
“No? I mean…”
