How to Outswim a Shark Without a Snorkel (6 page)

3. Train a hawk to watch over me. I read somewhere that people used to use birds all the time to help them hunt. Maybe I could train one to follow me? Pirates have parrots. Why wouldn't I have a hawk? Pro: A hawk fairy godmother would probably be easy to hide, as it could fly away whenever someone wondered why a bird was following me. Con: I'd have to keep dead mice in my pocket to feed it, and there's no way I'm doing that again. There is nothing worse than finding a crusty mouse carcass in your pants. Gross.

I slammed the cover shut, feeling empowered. Ashley probably had her
own
book, called
How
to
Ruin
Ana's Life
. Before heading downstairs for dinner, I hid the book in my backpack's secret compartment. The weight on my shoulders lightened a teensy bit, knowing I had a real plan.

Bring it, summer.

The lionfish has up to eighteen needlelike spikes that carry venom. A sting from a lionfish can cause nausea and breathing difficulties.

—Animal Wisdom

I took a huge breath and dipped my head under the water again, with panic hitting me like an ice-cold wall.

I
can
do
this.
I'm not going to drown. Nope. Except it's really hard to do those deep, cleansing breaths underwater.

In.
I tried to suck in a breath.

Out.
The ragged
whoosh
of air was loud in my ears, fake and rattling.

A trail of goose bumps snaked up the back of my neck as I clenched the snorkel tighter in my mouth, feeling closer to gagging by the second.

When I tried to suck in another breath, the mask on my face stopped me from getting any air. I couldn't breathe.

I
couldn't breathe
!

“Don't breathe through your nose!” Patricia bellowed as I lurched my head up from the tank. Ashley slapped me on the back as I choked, hacking up a mouthful of cold, stinging water. My hair was stuck against my face like sloppy, wet tentacles. I was officially a sea monster.

Could Patricia have given Ashley and me something fun or
easy
for our first day together?

Of course.

But did she? Big nope.

Instead, she decided we should practice our snorkeling skills on the edge of the shark tank by dunking our faces underwater like we were bobbing for apples.

According to her, it
should
be easy to breathe through a straw, but I was pretty sure this was a form of torture somewhere.

“I can't get it!” I wailed. “Why is this so
hard
?!” I yanked the mask from my face and squished my cheeks. The rubbery suction had left indents on my skin that hurt to touch. Ashley gave me a sympathetic look, but I wasn't letting her fool me with that. I'd spent all morning preparing for the worst of Ashley's insults, like a warrior arming herself for her first day of battle.

But the weird thing was, Ashley hadn't done anything yet. She'd shown up on time, put her bag in her locker (which was right beside mine), and asked me how my morning was.

Clearly she was up to something.

“It's not hard.” Ashley giggled. “It's just
breathing
! You do it all the time! In! Out! Repeat!”

I watched as Ashley stuffed the snorkel into her mouth and leaned over the edge of the pool, gracefully dipping her head under the water again. Her painted yellow fingernails glittered as she pointed dramatically to the top of her snorkel as she loudly breathed in and out.

“Show off,” I muttered. It didn't surprise me that Ashley was good at snorkeling. I bet she snorkeled all the time, and suntanned on the beach, and sashayed across the sand to harp music or something. Ashley was probably good at everything. I watched her arch her neck and turn her head before coming up from the water again, forcing her wet hair to fall in one smooth sheet across her shoulder. A sudden thought popped into my head.
I
bet
Ashley
has
kissed
a
boy.

She removed her mask and shifted the snorkel away from her mouth. For a moment, I wished that there was some obvious signal that lit up whenever people had been kissed before. You know, like a red light flashing above your head, so I could
know
who had been kissed and who hadn't. Then I realized that
I
would be wandering around
without
a light like a dimwit.

But.

I couldn't argue with the fact that practically every guy in our school (except Kevin, duh) gawks at Ashley whenever she walks down the hall, so it's not
unreasonable
to think that she's probably kissed a boy before. Maybe even more than one. What was her secret?

“All right, ladies, let's hit the shark tank.” Patricia interrupted my thoughts. “Ana, if you don't want to snorkel in the tank, that's fine. But you'll probably find it easier to watch Ashley until you get the hang of it. You'll get there.”

I rolled my eyes as she turned to point out the changing room.

“Follow me to get suited up, and we'll see how you do in some
real
water,” she said. “All of the animals aren't in their tanks yet, but we thought it would be fun for you to try out the scuba suits.” Patricia beamed. “We can't give you scuba tanks or anything, but we
did
manage to swing a few suits for the new aquarium and some snorkels. Some of the suits were junior sizes, so this is perfect! It will be a great experience.”

Note: Whenever a grown-up says something is going to be a “great experience,” you can pretty much guarantee it's going to be humiliating and/or suck.

“
Yaaay
,” I mumbled, following Ashley and Patricia into the back. I must have racked up some bad karma this year if I was spending my summer in yet
another
changing room with Ashley. Maybe I shouldn't have convinced Daz to eat that ancient Cheeto from under the couch last week.

Then I saw it.

Black rubber. Neon stripes. Lime-green flippers.

You've got to be kidding me.

I stared at the scuba suit slung over the bench in front of me and exchanged glances with Ashley. Like it's every girl's dream to strip down in a changing room with the star of the swim team.

Here's the problem with scuba suits.

They are skintight.

That right there should explain it.

There's no hiding anything in them, especially that weird part of your butt that sometimes seems muffin-toppy, but you can never really be sure because there are no three-way mirrors in your house and there's no
way
you're asking someone to check.

That meant my entire body was going to be stuck in a rubbery black casing like some sort of weirdo sausage with electric-blue and neon-yellow darts. I backed away slightly, with my breakfast going flippity-flop inside my stomach. Could I sneak out and go hang out with my crocodiles instead?

You know things are bad when you catch me wanting to wear a safari hat.

“Think maybe we could test the waters…without the suit?” I asked Patricia, who was riffling through her own locker for her lunch. “I mean, not
naked
, obviously. But maybe in swimsuits?” I sputtered.
Or
fully
clothed
even?

“I don't see what the big deal is.” Ashley sniffed. “I used one every day when my parents took me to Saint Barts. I think this is a
great
idea, Ms. Shurman.” She batted her eyes at Patricia.

Ms. Shurman.
Honestly.

I made a mental note to add that to my Anti-Ashley notebook.
Sarcastic
and
two-faced. Who the heck names a place Saint Barts anyway?

But Patricia fell for it, instantly breaking into a smile. “Thank you, Ashley! I was so glad to see on your application that you were on the swim team at school,” she gushed. “It will be a great help here. It will be a change for you to be near water with animals in it!”

My arms dropped to my sides.
I
could swim too. Not everyone needed those stupid medals to prove that.

Patricia kept talking. “Why don't I let you help Ana with hers and I'll meet you out by the tanks in a few minutes?” she said. “I have to meet our new co-op student. He should be here any minute.”

I mumbled to myself as Patricia bustled out of the room. The fluorescent lights above us flickered, and it already smelled like salty seawater. But this was no day at the beach.

“You're sure you didn't have anything better to do today?” I asked Ashley. My throat felt tight. “Like maybe be anywhere but here?” I knew it was mean, but I wasn't about to let her even get a head start on me.

Her lips curled up. “You should be thankful I am, or else you'd have no idea how to fit into this.” She held up her scuba suit, letting the legs flop against her leg. “If you can fit at
all
, that is.”

“I don't need your help,” I said firmly, squishing my lips together. I tried to keep my eyes down and focus on my scuba suit, figuring out what part of me went where first. Did you step into it like onesie pajamas? Or back into it like a beeping truck into a parking lot? I tugged at the zipper on the chest.

It didn't budge.

“You're sure you don't want some help?” Ashley cooed, shooting me a teasing glance. She had unzipped hers already and was staring at me with her hand on her hip and an amused look on her face. How could she be so comfortable with this? I imagined that red light flashing above her head again.

Not
only
can
I
put
on
a
scuba
suit, but I've definitely kissed a boy.
If
it
were
me, I'd have this kissing pact thing done by dinnertime.
She didn't have to say the words out loud. They were screaming inside my own head.

Maybe help from Ashley wasn't the
worst
thing I could get.
Maybe
if I were nice to her, some of that sparkly Ashley mojo would rub off on me. Was it worth it?

I dropped the scuba suit back on the chair and squared my shoulders.

“Okay, fine,” I said, already feeling about half an inch tall. “What do I do?”

She crossed her arms and stepped closer. “You wearing your swimsuit under that mess you've got on?” She raised her eyebrows. I looked down at my outfit. Khaki zoo shorts and a red tank top. I thought I looked okay. At least I did until she walked in with her hair perfectly curled at the ends like that.

“Yes,” I hissed. Not that I was going to show her.

“Well, this goes on over the top of your swimsuit,” she said. And with that, she tugged on the halter top of her dress and stepped out of it, showing off a perfect neon-green bikini.

Seriously.

A bikini.

I practically choked on my own spit. “Um, you're wearing
that
?” I gawked at her. And yeah, okay. I admit it. I was jealous. Super jealous. Not of her little bikini (which I would never be caught DEAD in), but of her long legs and her chest that looks like those girls on the magazines at the checkout. Not that I was staring at her boobs. But it's kind of hard not to when they're right there staring
you
in the face. God, is it totally weird that I was looking at her boobs? I glared away angrily, focusing on my scuba suit. It was hanging there like a limp, aquatic scarecrow without a head.

She stood tall. “Why not? It's just an old swimsuit.” She tucked a few pieces of hair behind her ear in the mirror before ducking over to the bench for the scuba suit.

“But you look…” I glared at her.

Like a swim team goddess.

Like a model.

Like a movie star.

“Ridiculous,” I said, angrily tugging off my shirt. I had a navy blue one piece on under my clothes, and no matter how confident I pretended I was, stripping in front of Ashley was definitely not high on my list of Things That Make Ana Feel Peachy. At school, all the girls changed in the same room in gym class, but here there were no people to hide behind so the Sneerers couldn't get a look at me and my training-wheels chest.

She scoffed. “Step into each leg one at a time, and you have to sort of shimmy the fabric up your leg.” She demonstrated, unraveling the suit over her tanned leg. “It's like putting on heavy pantyhose. Make sure the zipper is down and then yank it up over your hips when you're done.”

I struggled with my suit, until it somehow got stuck around my waist. I was officially a scuba sausage.

“Argh!” I said, turning my back to Ashley while I tried to rearrange the slippery fabric over my hip. I was
not
going to ask for her help again. I was not.

“Here, let me,” Ashley said.

“No.”

“You sure? Mine's on okay.” She stood with her hip jutted out. Even in the stupid scuba suit, she looked like she could be on some vacation magazine for the tropics. Or a dolphin-saving superhero with fantastic hair.

“Of course it is,” I mumbled.

“Patricia's going to be waiting.” She sighed. “Just let me help you. You don't need to be such a priss.”

“What do you care about her waiting?” I glared at her but let my arms drop when she came over to me and started jimmying the suit. So much for not letting Ashley get the upper hand—now here she was zipping me up like a four-year-old in a snowsuit.

Now I was a humiliated scuba sausage.

“Okay, okay,” I said, pulling away from her when the suit was on properly.

She glared at me. “You're
welcome
.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

I was about to say something to regain my dignity when we stepped out of the changing room, but Ashley stopped short as soon as the door was open. I slammed into her back.

“Hey, what the—” I said.

“Oh. My. God.” Ashley's voice was a hushed whisper. “
Ana
.” She reached behind her, aimlessly clutching at my arm.

I thought maybe one of the sharks had been brought in and that Ashley was freaked out. At least, that's what I hoped. Then she would run away from the zoo in her perfect little scuba suit and never come back.

But then I saw it.

Or rather, I saw
him
.