Array
(
[text] =>

I'm sure there are a lot of things people think about when they know that they're only seconds from death. Some people might contemplate the afterlife, or wonder if they're headed to heaven or hell, or pray to a deity.

I, on the other hand, was thinking about double chocolate fudge ice cream.

If I'd just stayed in the ice cream parlor with Lena and Alissa, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't be caught in a whirlwind of water, kicking my feet like crazy as I tried to find the bottom of the ocean. But, just as Jesse had said, there was a drop off a few feet out into the water. I wasn't sure how far down the bottom was, but I was sure someone would find out when they went to retrieve my corpse from its watery grave.

I was sinking like a rock.

A big, big rock.

Tied to an anvil.

And as I sank, I looked up at the water above me. Distorted sunlight danced on the tops of the waves, and the water felt warm against my skin. It would have been peaceful, except for the fact that, you know, I was going to die and all.

But then, just as my lungs felt like they might burst, something disrupted the peace. A dark figure came crashing through the waves, blocking out the sunlight and headed straight for me. I would have screamed if I'd been above sea level, or not on the brink of losing consciousness.

Hands reached out to tug me by my shirt. I crashed against a warm, hard chest.

Everything became blurry.

Next thing I knew, I was bombarded by the sounds of people yelling.

"Jesse!" someone groaned.

"I didn't mean to!"

"What did you do to her?"

"I call not giving her mouth to mouth!"

"Shut up, Ethan."

"Back up, guys, give them some space!"

I felt myself being lowered to the ground and tried to remember when I had been picked up in the first place. I felt warm sand underneath my bare arms and legs. Ground. I liked the ground. I almost sighed in relief, but there was no air in my lungs. I tried to inhale, but there was something blocking my throat.

"She can't breathe!"

Before I could try to breathe again, someone pressed down right into the space just beneath my ribcage. All at once, everything in my lungs was moving. I coughed up water like a fountain, then I gasped in a deep breath of air.

My eyes flew open.

Blake hovered over me, on his knees, dripping wet.

"Waverly! I'm so sorry!"

The voice wasn't coming from Blake. I tilted my head to the left and saw Jesse standing a few feet back from us, wringing his hands and looking about ready to cry. Beside him stood Lena, who looked about ready to wrap her freckled hands around his neck and strangle him.

When had she gotten here?

"It's okay, Jesse." I croaked.

He looked more traumatized than I was.  I tried to sit up, just to show him I wasokay, but Blake reached out a hand and pushed me back down into the sand. Iopened my mouth to make a comment about how boys aren't supposed to push girlsaround, but Blake spoke first.

"Give yourself a minute," he told me. "You need more oxygen."

Ifigured I should listen. Blake was, after all, a lifeguard.

"What happened out there, Waverly?"

Alissa might've been talking to me, but her eyes were locked on Blake's hand, which was still resting on the lower part of my ribcage. I tried not to blush.

"Nothing," I said quickly.

"Can you swim?" Blake's deep voice seemed to vibrate down his arm, through his hand and right into my body.

"Of course!" I blurted.

I couldn't let them know. If Blake, Lena, Alissa, Jesse and Ethan found out I couldn't swim, they'd all reject me. I wouldn't be Rachel Lyon's friendly niece anymore. I'd be that weird girl from Alaska who couldn't swim.

Blake's eyes narrowed.

I felt my heart start pounding against my ribcage. Could he feel that? Did he know I was lying? He looked like he didn't believe me. His lips twitched like he was about to open his mouth and call me out for my lie, but instead, he remained silent.

"Was there a riptide?" Jesse asked.

"Dude," Ethan interjected, "The riptides on this beach are killer. I got caught in one once while I was trying to chase this sea turtle. I swear, I almost drowned."

Alissa let out a sigh of admiration at Ethan's heroic tale.

I felt like rolling my eyes.

Then I realized that this was the only hope I had.

"There was a riptide," Iconfirmed solemnly. "I got caught in it."

I didn't even know what a riptide was, but if Ethan could almost drown in one, so could I. And blaming my near death on some imaginary riptide would totally distract everyone from the fact that I couldn't swim.

"Wow," Lena said, "you're pretty tough, Waverly."

"I'm so sorry!" Jesse cried, slapping his hands over his face.

"It's okay, Jesse, seriously," I said.

"I'm an idiot!" 

"Jesse?"

He peeked at me through his fingers.

I smiled and said, "You know, I think I could use some ice cream."

"Double chocolate fudge?"

"With sprinkles, please."

"I'm on it!" Jesse declared, racing up the sand dunes. Ethan rolled his eyes and jogged after Jesse, and Alissa giggled and trailed after them. That left me lying in the sand with Blake kneeling beside me and Lena standing over us.

"Was it scary?" Lena asked me quietly.

"Not too scary," I lied, my voice cracking.

Then I made the mistake of glancing over at Blake, who was still looking at me like he saw straight through me. I gulped and turned back to Lena. I opened my mouth to ask her some trivial question about the chances of Ethan and Alissa getting back together, just to change the subject, but Blake spoke before I could.

"Lena, why don't you go help with the ice cream," he suggested. "Tell everyone Waverly and I will be up there in a minute or two. I just have to make sure she's reoriented."

I wanted to protest, but that would only make Lena suspicious.

So instead, I watched her until she disappeared over the dunes. My stomach started doing back flips. I wasn't sure whether it was because I was alone with Blake, or if I'd just swallowed too much saltwater.

"I've been in a riptide before," Blake's voice was low, almost mocking me.

I made the mistake of turning to look at him.

His gaze seemed to burn holes in my skin. I couldn't stand looking him in the eyes for more than a few seconds, so instead I settled on staring at a small scar above his left eyebrow. Had that always been there, or had I just not been close enough to notice it?

"Really?" I tried to make my tone casual, but it came out panicked.

He knew. He knew I couldn't swim. Blake Hamilton had been out in the water with me, and he had felt the same peaceful water that I had felt.

"You can't swim, can you?" he asked.

It sounded more like a statement than a question.

"What? Of course I can!"

Blake raised his eyebrows and gave me a pointed stare.

The kind of stare that says, you can cut the act because I know you're lying.

I sat up, my head throbbing in protest, and looked down at my hands.

"Look, can you please not tell anyone?" I asked, my voice still hoarse from the saltwater I had inhaled. I glanced up at Blake, squinting in the bright sunlight. He wasn't glaring at me, and he wasn't smirking, either. He was just staring. Inspecting me. I felt my cheeks warm up again and I looked back down at my lap.

"But where's the fun in that?" Blake asked.

I felt sick to my stomach again.

"Please!" I begged, suddenly on the verge of tears. "They'll make fun of me!"

"Calm down," Blake told me, wincing like he regretted suggesting that he'd share my embarrassing secret. He reached out as if he was going to grab my hand, but stopped himself and quickly drew his arm back to his side. He let out a laugh, but it sounded forced. "I was only joking. I won't tell anyone."

Somehow I knew he wasn't lying, but my heart was still racing because, for a second there, I really thought Blake Hamilton might single-handedly ruin my summer.

"Very funny," I mumbled. I was suddenly very tired. Over the course of five to ten minutes, I had almost drowned and faced the disclosure of my most embarrassing secret. The only thing I wanted to do now was take a nap. I stood up, wobbling a little, and looked back down at Blake. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going home."

"What about your ice cream?" Blake asked, frowning.

"Let it melt," I mumbled.

Without another word, I turned and started up the dunes again.

I didn't hear footsteps coming after me, so I assumed Blake was still sitting on the beach, probably laughing about the expression I'd had on my face when he insinuated he was going to tell everyone my secret. Humiliated tears welled in my eyes.

"Waverly!"

My head snapped around at the sound of Blake's voice. He was still sitting in the sand beside the dark, wet patch where I'd been a moment ago. He wasn't laughing. In fact, there was a little pinch between his brows.

 "The key is under the mat," he said.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I was desperate to get out of there, so I nodded and turned and started off in the general direction of Rachel's house.

By the time I made it home, I was nearly dry.

My shirt still smelled like saltwater and seaweed, and the humidity had driven my hair into complete and utter chaos. But I was home. I walked up the front steps and stood on the porch for a second before I realized that Rachel wasn't going to be back for several more hours, and I didn't have a house key. I frowned at the pale, sunset orange paint on the house before I remembered what Blake had said.

The key is under the mat.

No way.

I glanced down at the welcome mat underneath my feet and took one step backwards. Then, with the toe of my sneaker, I lifted the mat. There, sitting on the porch, was a small silver key. I bent down and snatched it up, then shoved it into the lock on the front door and gave it a twist.

The lock clicked and the door swung open.

I hurried inside, moaning in relief as the cold air conditioning hit me. I ran upstairs and turned on the shower. I didn't wait for the water to get hot before I jumped in, scrubbing frantically to get the salt and sand off my body.

I spent the next hour raiding Rachel's refrigerator and watching old episodes of The Bachelor that she'd recorded. I was halfway through last season's finale when the front door flew open and Rachel hurried into the house, the tangled mess of brown curls on her head looking less like hair and more like a bird's nest.

"Waverly!" she cried in relief upon seeing me on the couch.

"Um, hello?"

"Lena Fletcher called me an hour ago and told me what happened! Oh my God, I was so worried about you!" Before I could explain that I was absolutely fine, Rachel raced across the room and threw her arms around my head, hugging me to her chest.

"I'm fine, Aunt Rachel," I mumbled into her shirt.

"Lena said you'd gone home, so I came as soon as I could!"

"What else did she say?" I asked, swallowing hard.

Had Blake told them what really happened?

"Oh, honey, she told me about that riptide you got caught in!"

I was so relieved I could have cried. But I didn't want to cry in front of Rachel, so I just wrapped my arms around Rachel's shoulders and hugged her back.

"I'm okay," I told her. "Totally unharmed. Not a scratch on me."

"Good!" She released me from her embrace. "I'm going to make you some dinner. I'll make anything. What do you want, Waverly? Spaghetti? Or how about pork chops?"

"Spaghetti sounds good."

"I'm on it!" she declared.

Rachel whipped up two bowls of spaghetti and joined me on the couch to watch The Bachelor, though I could feel her eyes on me the entire time. She was probably convinced I was hiding some sort of grave injury that would take me in my sleep. 

While Rachel was in the kitchen getting me seconds I hadn't asked for, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" I called.

I hopped up from the couch and, without checking out through the front window to see who it was, I yanked open the door. I went very still when I saw the boy standing on Rachel's front porch.

It was Blake.

He was still dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing earlier, but they were dry now. I wouldn't have believed he'd jumped in the ocean to rescue me if it weren't for the strong smell of seaweed that still clung to him. I noticed that he had some sort of flat, red Styrofoam board tucked under his arm and frowned. His eyes hovered over me and my clean change of baggy shirt and borrowed shorts for a moment before he met my eyes. We blinked at each other.

"Um, can I help you?" I asked.

"How are you feeling?" 

Was that a trick question?

"Fine, I guess?"

Blake wasn't smiling. But then he wasn't glaring, either. So that was good.

"Is there a reason why you're here?" I asked.

"Actually, yes."

I shifted my weight between my feet. "And?"

Blake took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his dark hair, mussing it. Either he didn't like what he had to say next, or he was hoping I wouldn't kick him in the balls for saying it.

"Waverly Lyons," he sighed, "I'm going to teach you how to swim."

[text_hash] => 9c7dfd6d
)