She shook her head. "The public pool was an hour's walk away, and my mom worked two shifts so I couldn’t get a ride with her. We...always had trouble making ends meet. Things only got better once I was older, when my mother got a stable job with Konstan.” My father’s rivals.
She glanced up at me, as if challenging me to say something nasty about her background. And I realized with a start that she was right. If I had been with my friends, the words would have slipped easily, without a second thought about whether they hurt her or not. Had it always been that way?
“I’ll teach you.”
She didn’t turn around. I wasn’t sure she heard me, so I repeated, “I can teach you. If you want, that is.”
This time, she nodded. “Okay.” She looked at the water again, and as if it strengthened her resolve, she turned and gave me a small smile. “Okay.”
***
My heart leaped the moment I caught sight of Ella in her one-piece. We had finally agreed on a time for her first lesson, which I suspected she had been delaying. It might have helped that I had re-emphasized what an essential skill swimming was, and that a genius like her - she had gotten straight As for our recent exams, even for Mrs. Connor's history paper, infamous for being cutthroat with her grading - would master it in no time.
She looked at me shyly, wrapping her towel around her small waist, barely hiding the curves there. I wondered what our parents would say if they saw me in the pool with her - and decided I didn't care.
"I made sure to turn up the heater," I murmured. "Wouldn't want you to freeze during your first lesson."
She smiled at me gratefully. I had never thought about it too hard but I realized what living here would look like through somebody else's eyes. We had been lucky, in our own way, Hans and I. We had had music, swimming, and horse riding lessons, as well as vacations away from home. I guess that the need to give back was what made me take it upon myself to teach Ella to swim. Not that seeing her in tight swimwear wasn't a perk.
Ella placed her towel onto one of the reclining chairs and hummed nervously.
"Is that Evanescence?" I asked. She nodded. "I love the lyrics." She didn't elaborate further.
"Okay. Shall we get into the pool, then?" I watched as she tentatively dipped her toes inside, and, as if deciding the water was safe, slowly lowered herself inside. She was so petite, even the shallowest part of the pool almost swallowed her.
"What are you, like, five feet?" The question popped out of me before I thought too hard.
She snarled at me, the effect like a kitten showing its claws. I stifled a laugh.
"Five foot one," she replied indignantly.
The difference of an inch didn't help her let go of the side of the pool at all. I eased myself into the water beside her and decided the best way to make her relax.
"Here," I offered her my arm. "Hold onto me, and breathe in and out and feel how buoyant you become with each breath."
She did as I asked, her other hand still gripping the edge of the pool until her knuckles were white.
It took almost an hour, but she finally relinquished her death grip on the pool edge and began to trust her body more. Afterwards, I swam a few laps as she sat on the steps, feet half-submerged in water, as she watched me scissor my way across the water.
"Who taught you to swim like that?" she asked.
"Lessons," I replied simply. She didn't need to know it had been a competitive sport for me, and that a third of the trophies in my room were from swimming. The many early hours I had spent training every single day before school, until fate decided to throw a football my way. Literally. So now I swam just for fun, and as a stress buster. Amongst the other things I did to relieve stress.
"Let's try again." We spent another half an hour getting her used to the water before calling it a day.
And that was how I soon found myself spending most of my free time - outside of football training - with Ella, the girl I had vowed to break so that she would leave Gray Lake. And soon, I found myself looking forward to the hours we spent together.
***
"Have you heard from Hans?" Ella asked one day. We were on the way to school, settled into a comfortable routine of going to and coming back from school together.
"No." I grit my teeth subconsciously, thinking about the last time I spoke to him. He had been sending me cryptic texts - whether to annoy me or as a result of all the counseling he had received there - all keeping me in the dark about how he truly was doing. I was worried about my twin, and, if I had to admit it to myself, I missed his company more than a little bit.
She quickly turned her head to look out the window. "Sorry."
"Oh - it's not you." I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, unsure what to tell her. That I hated myself for not taking care of Hans the way I should have, as the older brother? That I hadn't noticed - or hadn't thought it serious - that his tendencies were becoming more and more distasteful and depraved? Or that I hated that my dad had shipped him off somewhere, expecting someone else to do the hard work of caring for him, when it was his job, his job as a father, a role he hadn't played in years.
I remained silent instead, unable to give voice to my thoughts. We had come a long way, yes, but she was better off not knowing. I often prayed
