Page 31 of Swerve
IT WAS THE kind of perfect July day that made a person think life couldn’t get much better.
At age ten, Mia was again beginning to believe that happiness wasn’t something that had forever abandoned her and her sister. There had been plenty of days when she couldn’t believe anything else. When it had felt as if not even the sunshine could penetrate the clouds of sadness that hung over them both.
But today, today, Mia had seen Emory smile at something Grace’s mother said to her about a book she’d just finished reading. She really couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Emory smile out of the blue like that. Had it been before their parents were killed? She tried to think of when the last time would be, but all she could come up with were memories of when she was really little and Emory was a teenager. Maybe it had been the time she had let Mia try on her makeup, watching as she applied it herself and ended up looking more like a clown than the high-fashion model she’d been attempting to look like.
She decided then that it didn’t matter when exactly. She was just glad to think that Emory might be happy again. Because if she could be happy, then maybe Mia could be too. Maybe that would make it all right not to feel guilty.
“Your sister’s really pretty,” Grace said from her spot beside Mia on the dock.
Mia dragged her toes through the warm lake water and said, “A lot prettier than I’ll ever be.”
“You’re pretty too,” Grace said.
“Thanks,” Mia said. “But Emory looks like our mom. And she was beautiful.”
“Do you miss her?”
“I miss her and my dad. But sometimes, I wonder if my memories about them are real. Or if they’re just dreams I’ve had.”
“I bet they’re real,” Grace said.
“It scares me that they’ll all go away. And I won’t have anything of them left.”
Grace went quiet for a few moments, and then, “Maybe you could think of some special memories and go through them every now and then. Sort of like practicing the memories so they stay strong.”
Mia glances at Grace and says, “You’re really smart.”
Grace shrugs. “I’ve thought about how hard it must be for you and Emory. Not to have your parents, I mean.”
“Maybe it’s been harder for Emory than for me,” she said, glancing at her sister who is still talking with Grace’s mom. “She kind of had to grow up overnight.”
“She sure does love you,” Grace said.
“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened to me if Emory hadn’t been my sister.”
“Well, she is, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
The two girls sat there in silence for a couple of minutes, glad for their friendship. At ten, Mia didn’t take any of the people in her life for granted. She knew how one day everything seemed like it would last forever, and the next it could all go away.
“Wanna swim?” Grace asked, getting up from the dock and shucking off her jean shorts.
“Sure,” Mia said, pulling off her coverup.
“One, two, three,” Grace said. “Here I go!”
Mia watched as Grace dove headfirst into the water. She glanced at the life jackets a few feet away and then at Emory whose back was to her. She knew the rule was that she always had to wear a life jacket in the lake, but Grace hadn’t, and just this once wouldn’t hurt anything.
Wanting to jump in before Emory spotted her, Mia dove headfirst into the blue green water just out from the dock.
It felt amazing, cutting through the surface. She felt herself going down, down, down. She hadn’t meant to dive so hard. Fear shot through her, and she wished she hadn’t jumped off. Her head hit the bottom of the lake, and she opened her mouth in a scream, instantly choking on the water that started filling her lungs.
Disoriented, she tried to swim up but found herself hitting the dirt floor again.
Panic grabbed her by the throat, and the desire to breathe was almost more than she could resist. Her lungs felt like they had been pumped full of water, her chest so tight that she feared it would rip open beneath the pressure.
She began to flail with her arms and legs, her mind screaming with fear. She found the bottom of the lake with her feet and pushed off, reaching for the surface, for air.
She felt the hand grab her arm, and instead of latching on and letting it pull her to the top, she began to fight. Her lungs felt as if they were on fire. She kicked in an effort to break through the surface, grabbing onto the waist of the person trying to help her.
