Page 70 of Devil in Disguise
“It’s eight-thirty,” Dyma said. Besides, it wasn’t like Annabelle would be alone, because Harlan had come home during their TV date. He’d stuck his head in to say goodnight, then headed off again. Being with his thoughts, probably. Something like that. At least taking a shower.
“Yep,” Owen said. “And I’ve got to be at the practice facility at eight tomorrow morning.” He leaned over, kissed Annabelle’s cheek, then said, “Hey. Come on up here and give me a real hug.” And when she did, held her tight a sec and said, “That’s better. You hang in there, OK? If it gets too baby-intensive, I’ll bring dinner over and make a fourth. Give me a call.”
“Thanks,” she said, and that was all.
Dyma said, “I’ll walk you out,” since he was clearly determined to go. At the door, she wrapped her arms around herself, frowned down at the floor, and finally asked, “Is there something wrong? I mean, yeah, there’s Annabelle, and I want to catch up, but …”
He smiled. Nice and slow and surprisingly dirty. “Now, see,” he told her, “I thought you were smarter than this.”
“Uh …” Somehow, her heart had started to pound.
He said, “Do your sister-thing. She needs it, and maybe you do, too. After that?” He gave her what she could only call a smolder. “You know the way to my house. Wear something special.”
* * *
Wear somethingspecial?What didthatmean?
She headed back down to the media room, where Annabelle was still curled in a chair. She looked up when Dyma came in, though, and said, “Oh. I wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”
“Yep,” Dyma said. “Do you want to swim or something? I’m restless. Are you? I sat in the car, and then I sat in the hospital, and I’ve got all this …” She waggled her arms, then her fingers.“Emotion.I hate it when I can’t even figure out what itis,you know?”
“Yeah,” Annabelle said. “Swimming sounds good.”
The night was black and chilly as they ran across the deck, a brisk wind whipping the young trees around the pool. Dyma gasped out, “Wait. Wait. When did this get fenced? Where’s the gate?” Her arms wrapped around herself, her teeth starting to chatter. She’d been cold allday.
Annabelle said, “Harlan couldn’t relax until he got it done, even though it’s not like Nick will be mobile anytime soon. Here.” She was ahead of Dyma, which wasn’t hard given that her legs were twice as long. She flipped a latch up, the metal banged shut behind them, and they were both jumping in.
More shrieks. More laughter. The water was warm compared to the air, she guessed, but … Oh, man, jumping into a pool was always going to give you that shock. Annabelle took off, swimming the same way Harlan did—like there’d be a medal ceremony at the end—and Dyma, who had a distressing tendency to sink if she didn’t keep moving, plowed along in her wake, up and down the competition-sized pool.
Five laps, then ten, and Annabelle, who’d probably swum at least twenty by now, turned onto her back, which was Dyma’s cue to give it up and move slowly along beside her in her personal version of what she called the “dead-bug stroke.”
“My mom wanted me to join crew in high school,” she told Annabelle. “She thought I could get a scholarship.”
“Maybe as the cox,” Annabelle said. “You sit in the stern and yell at everybody, and it helps if you don’t weigh much. All of that sounds like you.”
Dyma laughed. “Only possible option, because I don’t think I’d be pulling my oar too great. Only problem is, if the boat tipped over in the deep part of the lake, whoops, they just lost their cox.”
“Because you don’t have enough body fat.”
“Which is a nice way of telling me that I have no boobs.”
Annabelle laughed and splashed her, and Dyma splashed back, then said, “So how’s your crew thing going, anyway?”
“Fine,” Annabelle said. “Good. All you have to do is be strong and have lots of endurance. And maybe be coordinated enough to row efficiently.”
That made Dyma laugh again. “Yeah, if your name’s Annabelle Kristiansen, descendent of Vikings. Pro tip: most girlsaren’tstrong like you are, and theydon’thave endurance, let alone ridiculous levels of coordination. Oh, and rigorous discipline. I’m guessing that helps.”
“Well, since I do,” Annabelle said, “it’s pretty good.”
Why was this so hard? Dyma asked, “How’s volleyball going?” like a mom making conversation with one of her daughter’s friends. She was only fifteen months older than Annabelle. Was their friendship really not deep enough even to survive a month away?
“Good,” Annabelle said again. “Looks like we’re going to the playoffs.”
Dyma considered saying, “That’s awesome.” Instead, she said, “What happened to my sister?”
Annabelle turned her head as far as she could without swallowing water. “What? You don’t have a sister.”
“Exactly,”Dyma said. “Exactly. Except I do, because I have you! Or I thought I did. How’m I supposed to get all angsty about my horrible roommates and my supervisor who thinks I’m a flake, just because I, well, flaked a few times, not to mention my Cminus,if you won’t even talk to me? I need to know the works. And I don’t mean how the athletic scholarship prospects are looking, unless you’re dying to tell me. I mean friends. Guys. New school. Comeon.”
