Page 31 of No Capes
He plows through his in three bites, glaze plastering the corners of his mouth. He looks over at me with bulging cheeks, like an overgrown chipmunk. Something releases, and I just start laughing. Whole body, can’t breathe laughing… Fox catches my eye and starts laughing too—shoulders shaking, filling the room.
The rest of our classmates exchange uncertain glances.
Fox and I crack up until Mr. Meyers arrives, and my tight jaw and high shoulders—tense for two days straight—finally soften.
“Thanks,” I say to Damian. He answers with a coy nod, just knowing this was exactly what we needed.
~
Things get weird again that afternoon.
We have a home swim meet. Our fourth this season.
As always, I’m the second person out of the locker room. Arielle is the first. She sits on the metal bench beside the pool and scribbles on her clipboard, finalizing the set list and diving routines. Instead of starting my warm-up, I chuck my towel, goggles, and swim cap on the bleachers and approach her.
Arielle’s ponytail seems tighter than usual, and damp spots already soak her cropped pants. Arielle usually keeps a thin towel behind her clipboard that she dabs herself with in the inevitable event of being splashed, but today she appears to have forgotten it. Extra layers of makeup smear the bags under her eyes. Could it be that she’s having an “off” day? Talking to her while she’s feeling “off” is basically asking for extra sprints after the meet, followed by toweling off the entire pool deck.
But I’m feeling extra risky today.
“When you married Phil—”
“Not now,” Arielle snaps. She jots something down on the clipboard with her impeccable handwriting.
“Did you know? Have you known she was murdered this entire time?” I blame my lack of sleep. Had I been more on top ofthings, I would have approached Arielle from a different angle, rather than catch her so off guard. Instead, my current route seems to be the blunt, inconsiderate sister.
I can’t stop thinking about what my dad had said. Arielle and my mom fought right before she died. It had to be about Phil, right?
Arielle keeps her nose in her notes. “Madeline, please. I thought we’d finished discussing such absurd notions.” She sounded like she was chiding me for having some kind of routine episode that exhausted her.
“That’s not an answer, and we never talked about this,” I point out.
Now she looks at me.
“There’s nothing toanswer,”she says evenly. “What happened is unfortunate. That’s all.”
“Why did you marry Phil, Arielle? Was it to help the police cover up the ‘accident?’” I mime air quotes.
“It was because I was in love with him. Don’t you dare imply otherwise.”Was?Is she saying that she doesn’t love him anymore?
She lifts her head. If it weren’t for her unblinking stare, I would have dropped the matter and saved the topic to discuss with D.S., whenever I see him again. But Arielle has worn thick contacts since she was ten. She blinks more often than Fox looks at himself in the mirror—she’s using every acting trick and bit of energy she has to keep her face expressionless.
“What did you and Mom argue about that night?” I whisper.
Arielle stays deadpan. “Go warm up.” When I don’t move, she slaps her clipboard. “GO!”
The rest of the team, dressed by now, hovers by the diving boards, springing into action to not look like they’ve been eavesdropping. I pass them without a word and jump into the water, making the biggest splash I can. Arielle readjusts herclipboard as if I’ve been a minor annoyance, like a spam caller who’s stolen five seconds of her day.
When I start my laps, the nightmare returns. Raincoat Guy speeds inside a train, heading right for me and laughing like a maniac.
Chooo Chooo.
I blow through the warm-up at record speed. When I finish, I press my palms into the deck, hoisting myself from the water.
“Yo,” Fox says. “Ready for me to beat you in free?”
“I’d love to see you try,” I reply. I find my towel on the bottom row of bleachers and wrap it around myself.
Fox grins mischievously. “Take it out on the water, got it, Maddragon? Turn this into a splash-tastic day.” Logically, Fox has to be in a bad mood. He can’t not be.His dead parents could have been murderers. But his confidence lifts his chest, and his long lashes point right at me, and he seems like Fox. As if to prove that, Fox ruffles excess drips from his hair and goes to flirt with a sophomore by the diving boards.
