But he wouldn't let her go. "You know how you forget the most obvious places," he said as he smoothed the lotion at the base of her neck and across her shoulders, his voice as silky soft as his fingers. He tried to slip a finger under one strap. Ivy held the strap down. She was getting mad. No doubt Suzanne was burning up, too, she thought — though not from the sun.
Ivy pulled away from Gregory and quickly put on her sunglasses, hoping they would mask her anger. She walked away briskly, leaving them to tease and antagonize each other.
Both of them were using her to score points. Why couldn't they leave her out of their stupid games?
You're jealous, she chided herself. You're just jealous because they have each other, and you don't have Tristan.
She found an empty lounge chair at the edge of a small crowd and dropped down into it. The guy and girl next to her watched with interest as Suzanne led Gregory to two lounges in a corner apart from the others. They whispered as Gregory spread lotion over her perfectly shaped body.
Ivy closed her eyes and thought about Tristan, about their plans to run off to the lake together, to float out in the middle of it with the sun sparkling at their fingertips and toes. She thought about the way Tristan had kissed her in the back-seat of the car the night of the accident. It was the tenderness of his kiss that she remembered, the way he had touched her face with wonder, almost reverence. The way he had held her made her feel not only loved, but sacred to him. "You still haven't gone in the water."
Ivy opened her eyes. It seemed pretty clear that Eric wouldn't let her alone until she proved she would not freak out in the pool.
"I was just thinking about it," she said, removing her sunglasses. He waited for her by the pool's edge.
Ivy was glad that, at his own party, Eric had stayed sober. But perhaps this was how he made up for it.
Without alcohol, without drugs, this was how Eric entertained himself: testing people on their most vulnerable points.
Ivy slipped into the water. In the first few moments the old fear washed over her as die water crept up her neck, and she was terribly afraid. "That's what courage is," Tristan had said, "facing what you're afraid of." With each stroke, she grew a little more comfortable.
She swam the length of the pool, then stopped and waited for Eric in die deep end. He was a poor swimmer.
"Not bad," Eric said when he caught up with her. "You're not bad for a beginner." "Thanks," said Ivy.
"You're not even out of breath." "I guess I'm in good shape." "Not out of breath at all," he said. "You know, there's a game Gregory and I played at camp when we were little kids."
He paused, and Ivy guessed that he was going to suggest they play it now. She wished they were hanging on to the wall at the other end of the pool, where it was shallow and the trees didn't crowd out the sun, and most everyone else now waded and sat.
"It's a test to see how long each of us can hold our breath," he told her. He spoke without looking at her; Eric rarely looked anyone in the eye.
"You have to duck under the water and stay under for as long as possible while the other person times it."
Ivy thought it was a dumb game, but she went along with it, figuring that the sooner they played it, the sooner she could get rid of him.
Eric quickly went under, holding his arm above the surface so she could read his watch. He stayed under for one minute and five seconds, surfacing with a rasping gasp. Then Ivy took a deep gulp of air and dropped down. She counted slowly to herself — one thousand one, one thousand two — determined to beat him. While she held her breath she watched her loose hair swirl around her. The chlorine was strong, and she wanted to close her eyes, but something told her not to trust Eric.
When she finally surfaced he said, "I'm impressed! One minute and three seconds." She had counted one minute and fifteen. "Here's the next step," he said. "We see if we can stay under longer by going down together. It's like we encourage each other. Ready?"
Ivy nodded reluctantly. After this, she was getting out of the pool. Eric stared at his watch. "On the count of three. One, two—" He suddenly pulled her under.
Ivy hadn't gotten her breath. She pulled back, but Eric wouldn't let go. She waved her hands at him underwater but he gripped her upper arms.
Ivy began choking. Ivy had swallowed some water as Eric dragged her down, and she couldn't help coughing, trying to clear her lungs — but each time she did, she swallowed more water. Eric held her tight.
She tried to kick him but he moved his legs out of the way and smiled a close-lipped smile.
He's enjoying this, she thought. He thinks this is fun. He's crazy!
Ivy struggled to get away from him. Her stomach tightened with cramps, and her knees drew up. Her lungs felt as if they would burst.
Suddenly Eric grimaced. He pulled to one side so swiftly that he swung Ivy around with him. Then he let go. They both came to the surface, gasping and sputtering.
"You jerk. You stupid jerk!" Ivy yelled. But her coughing stopped her from going on.
Eric pulled himself up onto the wall, his face pale, his fingers still clutching his side. When his hand dropped, she saw the red marks, thin bloody stripes, as if someone had scratched his back and side with long, sharp fingernails.
Eric glanced around quickly with pale, unfocused eyes, then turned to her. His face seemed almost as distorted as it had underwater. "I was only playing," he said.
Someone called him from the opposite end of the pool. People were starting to move inside. He got up slowly and headed in the direction of the pool house. Ivy stayed by the side of the pool, taking deep breaths. She knew she had to stay in the pool. She had to wait till she was breathing normally again, then swim some laps. Tristan had led her past her fear. She was not going to let Eric take her back again.
She began to swim.
When Ivy reached the end of the pool and made her turn for another lap, Beth reached down and grabbed her ankle. Ivy looked over her shoulder and saw Beth teetering on the edge of the pool, her large-brimmed hat coming down over her eyes. Will moved quickly to anchor Beth from behind.
"What's up?" Ivy asked, smiling at Beth, glancing quickly, self-consciously at Will.
"Everyone's going inside to watch videos," Beth told her enthusiastically, "some that were taken at school this year, and after school at basketball games and—" Beth stopped.
"Swim meets," Ivy finished the sentence for her. Perhaps she could see, one more time, Tristan swimming the butterfly.
Beth took a step back from the edge of the pool and turned to Will. "I'm going to stay outside for a while."
"Don't stay outside for me, Beth," Ivy said. "I—" "Listen," Bed» interrupted her, "with everybody inside, I can finally bare this beautiful white bod and not worry about giving them all snow blindness."
Will laughed softly and said something intended for Beth's ears only.
Will was a sweet guy, but Ivy wouldn't have blamed him if he were furious at her, not after die scene she had made the previous Saturday night. He had drawn pictures of angels — one of Tristan as an angel with his arms wrapped around Ivy. She had ripped it to shreds.
"Go in and watch die videos, Beth," Ivy said firmly. "I just want to swim a little."
Will leaned forward then. "You shouldn't swim by yourself. Ivy."
"That's what Tristan used to say." In response Will gazed back at her wide eyes that spoke a language of their own. They were brown pools, deep enough to drown in. Ivy thought Tristan's had been hazel, and yet there was something similar about his eyes and Will's, something that drew her to him.
She turned away quickly, then caught her breath. With a soft flash of colorful wings, a butterfly landed on her shoulder.