Page 10 of The Breaking Point

I flinched at his swearing. Even Ben wasn’t brave enough to say the f-word around our parents. Dad would kill him.

“You shouldn’t say that word,” I admonished.

“What,fuck? Seriously?”

“You’ll get in trouble. My parents won’t like it.”

“If they try to hit me, I’ll just hit them back.” He cracked his knuckles.

I gaped at him. “My parents would never hit you!” I was outraged at the mere suggestion. “They aren’t like that.”

Brady laughed at me, confusing me entirely. “I’ve been in enough homes to know that’s bullshit.”

“They aren’t like that.”

I could tell Brady didn’t believe me. It made me feel sad for him. Had his other foster parents hit him? Did he expect that now, no matter where he went?

“You said you couldn’t swim,” I said.

“Yeah. So?”

I felt my cheeks heat but pushed through to reply, “I can teach you.”

Brady didn’t say anything. I had a feeling he was going to tell me to go to hell, but he didn’t. He just stared off into the distance, almost like he hadn’t even heard me.

“You don’t have to do that,” he mumbled.

He wouldn’t look at me. I didn’t know why. But even though he was a big kid and seemed intimidating, I had a feeling it was all for show. I moved into the water until I was standing waist-deep.

“Come on. I’ll show you how to float,” I said.

To my surprise, he agreed. He wore shorts and a T-shirt, but he didn’t take off his shirt.

“Uh, you shouldn’t wear your shirt,” I said, wanting to die.

“What? Why?”

“I mean, you won’t drown, but the fewer clothes, the safer it is. More clothes mean you’ll get dragged down easier.”

I remembered my swim instructor telling me and the rest of my class that we shouldn’t jump into the water fully clothed. We especially shouldn’t do it wearing shoes.

“But if you do fall into water wearing street clothes and shoes,” she’d said, “there are ways to keep yourself safe so you can get out of the water.”

Brady finally took off his shirt. I couldn’t help but stare at him. He had a sprinkling of hair on his chest already. How was this boy only fourteen? I’d never seen another boy his age look like him.

He was tan, too, and muscular. He also had bruises on his ribs that I wanted to ask him about, but I bit my tongue just in time.

Brady then went to the last step and just stood there, the water up only to his knees.

“Come on. You can’t float in the shallow end,” I said.

“Why not? It’s all water.”

I snorted. “Fine. Here, watch me.”

I’d taken swimming lessons since I was little. I’d even swum a few times in swim meets, although I’d gotten bored with the sport after a few years. I preferred to read inside most days.

But the muscle memory remained. I began floating on my back, staring at the bright-blue sky. There was nothing like the blue sky of the desert. The world was always bright and illuminated here—no rain, no clouds, no cold.

---