Page 4 of Beautiful Defiance

4

LEIGH

The house is dark. The estate is quiet. Inside my bedroom, I change into a one-piece swimsuit that covers the scars across my back.

There might not ever be a chance like this again to sample the heated pool. Hannah is at Seven’s party. (Who has a party on a Tuesday?). Henry is away at college. And the Stevensons are on an island somewhere, celebrating their wedding anniversary.

Though no one’s around, I close the door of the small guesthouse in the back of the two-story mansion with a soft click. After I secure the housekey to my tennis shoes using the shoelaces, I get a running start and bolt up the hillside.

What will it be like to swim on my back and stare up at the star-filled sky? I’ll know soon. At the top of the hill, I practically skip to the gate that surrounds the pool. I unlock it and set my towel on a lounge chair. Steam rises from the water.

I slide off my shoes. Goosebumps dot my skin. I hug myself and rub at my arms, my stomach suddenly in knots.

There’s no harm in going for a swim. I’m a great swimmer, so that’s not the problem. The issue is being disobedient for selfish reasons, partaking in Thomas’s extravagance. A heated pool. A mansion on five acres. Gated entrance. Five-car garage.

I don’t fit in, and I doubt I ever will.

The urge to rebel is a difficult habit to break. It wasn’t always this way.

After my parents’ deaths, I listened and obeyed, hoping my obedience would bring them back to life and they’d take me away from the loneliness and the misery of never being wanted for who I am.

But no amount of obedience brought them back, and I returned to what I know how best to do. Defy.

To defy is to be punished, and punishment brings about a pain that teaches me life is pain. Pain is an escape from the numbness of life living in foster homes and being reliant on others’ show of mercy.

Tired of thinking of my past when I have my future to think of, I walk over to the deep end of the pool and dive in. That first splash of warm water on my cool skin is like biting into a hotteok straight off the pan. Or spooning a mouthful of warm apple pie dripping with cinnamon and whipped cream into my mouth. Pure heaven.

Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I cross my arms, crisscross my legs, and sink to the bottom. Pieces of my hair caress my face like a wispy breeze. I turn my head side to side. If anyone were to dive in after me, they’d see an impish grin on my face. I stay under the water until my chest is ready to explode.

I come up for air and swim laps from one end of the pool to the other, first on my back, then with my face in and out of the water, the strokes precise from my early years of swim lessons at the YMCA.

When I’m happy and out of breath, I push off the side of the pool and swim on my back. The stars wink at me, and the moon plays hide and seek behind the clouds.

Goodness, it’s so beautiful. I glide across the pool and concentrate on the sounds around me. Frogs croaking. Crickets chirping. Mating calls?

My face heats. I mean, why else would animals make noises in the night other than for booty? Sticking that thought in the recesses of my mind, I hum a tune. “Rewrite the Stars,” by Zac Efron and Zendaya from the movie The Greatest Showman.

Priceless staring up at the stars. Having the place to myself. Not having to worry that I’ll be attacked in my sleep. Or beat for doing something that is wrong in someone else’s opinion but right in every way to me.

I cherish the silence like it’s my last night on this earth. I listen to the frogs and the crickets and brand their little melodies to memory. Also brand into my memory the wrinkles on my fingertips from staying so long in the pool.

Not wanting to be one big raisin, I swim to the ladder at the end of the pool closest to the house. A noise from the front of the house sends tingles of apprehension up and down my spine.

Is Hannah home early? Shit, she’ll tell Thomas I swam in their precious pool, and he’ll scold me for not making sure someone was around to keep an eye on me.

Thomas is a liar and a cheater, but for the most part, he’s a decent guy if you can overlook the lying and the cheating. I hurry to the ladder. Masculine laughter echoes in the night. There’s not one guy but four guys. I bolt for the ladder.

Water splashes around me. I grit my teeth. In the end, the racket I made didn’t matter. The guys heading my way already have it in their minds to enjoy the pool too.

They’re in their swim trunks with towels draped over their shoulders. Groaning, I shove away from the ladder and swim to the opposite side. Before I can get out, the guys circle the pool. They’re like great white sharks scenting blood in the water. Too bad I won’t be easy prey. I swim to the middle of the pool.

“Leigh. Funny seeing you here.” Henry sticks his foot into the pool and kicks, splashing me in the face.

“You too.” I blink away the water in my eyes. “Thomas said you would only be home on holidays and long breaks.”

Something to do with wanting to immerse himself in the college experience is how Thomas explained why his only son wouldn’t be making the one-hour drive home on the weekends. Henry stuck around Cambridge long enough to meet me before he left for Dumas. He followed me and his dad around the estate, a silent and brooding shadow behind us, as Thomas gave me a tour of the grounds.

Thomas pointed to the places I could go and what is off-limits, including Seven’s parents’ place on the other side of the low-lying fence. The Shanahans are private people.

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