Seaweed (2 page)

I stood naked under the spray, the blast of heat cloaking my head like a sheet. I turned and let it wash my face and then my back, until my core warmed up fully. I ran the hot water tank dry.

I dressed in extra layers and blow-dried my hair. I knew Mom would be expecting me to be wearing my pajamas when she saw me, ready to hop right into bed, but I was determined to go out to look for Tor some more.

“Dori?” Mom’s eyebrows arched when she spotted me fully clothed descending the stairs.

“I’m fine now, Mom. Totally warm. No harm done.”

“You’re not going out again,” she said. “You’ve suffered quite a shock to your system. Enough’s enough.”

“I agree with your mother,” Dad said. “They’ll find him. The Coast Guard is trained for this kind of thing. You don’t want to get in the way.”

A thread of panic weaved through me and I was afraid they were really going to keep me from going out again.

“I’ll be with her,” Colby said. “I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”

I tossed him a look that said
Thank you
.

“I won’t get in the way, Dad. I know better than that, but I can’t just sit here.”

Colby shifted uncomfortably from leg to leg, not wanting to be a part of a family argument, but I was betting his presence would get me my way. Mom didn’t like to cause a scene in front of company.

“Mom, we’re just going to go back to the beach, see if anything has happened. I won’t be out long, I promise.”

Mom sighed and gave in. “Okay, but be home by eleven.”

I grabbed a warmer jacket and then Colby’s arm. “Let’s go.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Colby said as we walked down Main Street toward the beach.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I just have to know.”

“You did everything you could, you know? Even though it was crazy for you to dive into the bay after dark. You’re a good swimmer, but no one’s immune to the force of the current, especially when disoriented by darkness. You know this.”

My chest tightened. “You’re not exactly making me feel better.”

“I don’t know if it’s possible to survive what happened to Tor or not, but something terrible could’ve happened to you.” His eyes settled on mine. “You scared me.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. He was right about the risks, and it was nice to know that he cared about what happened to me. I was sorry that I’d scared him.

We walked the rest of the way in silence. A small gathering of teens remained at the bonfire. The truck with the music was gone leaving just the sounds of the waves and wind to tease us.

“Sorry, man,” Sawyer said when he saw us. “No sign of him anywhere, up or down the beach.”

He looked kindly at me. “You okay?”

I nodded, then gazed out over the ocean. A searchlight from the Coast Guard vessel flickered past along the shoreline. I followed the lighted path with my eyes. Nothing but soft foamy waves lapped the beach.

I couldn’t help myself. I let out a big sobby hiccup.

“Dori?” Samara called. She and Becca were beside me in an instant, Becca with a tissue she’d just whipped out of her pocket. “We didn’t see you come back.”

“Thanks.” I accepted the tissue and made good use of it. “I’m fine, now.”

We waited around the fire, with only the sound of quiet murmurs as the number of teens continued to peter out. The fire had shrunk to embers, and Mike and Sawyer collected pails of water to extinguish it fully.

I didn’t know where the time went, but it was almost eleven already. Colby offered to walk me back.

“Let’s stop at the police station one more time,” I said.

“You don’t want to be late for your curfew, Dori.”

“We won’t. Just a quick check.”

When we walked in, an elderly man was at the counter, speaking to Officer Bob.

“I’m very sorry that Tor has caused this concern,” he said with a deep, baritone voice. “I assure you he is fine.”

I grabbed the man’s arm, startling him. “Are you Tor’s uncle?”

I knew he was before he said a word. From a distance he looked like a myriad of old, weathered fishermen I’d seen all my life, with greasy gray hair and a rugged demeanor, but up close I could see the difference. His skin was smooth with far fewer wrinkles than you would expect, and his hair was practically glossy. His posture was straight and broad shouldered. You could see that he had that old man strength about him, no sign of elderly frailty in the least.

“And you must be Dori,” he said, an amused smile spreading across his face.

“What happened to him? Why did he…” I remembered Colby was standing behind me at that moment and I didn’t want to divulge that Tor had gone into the ocean on purpose.

“It was an accident, my dear. He never meant to scare anyone, and you can rest assured that he is safe and sound.”

In an instant my relief turned to anger. It was no accident—that I was certain of. Tor was safe and sound until I saw him again. Then he was dead meat.

CHAPTER THREE

I folded myself into the back seat of the Rotten Apple—aka the red ’87 Tercel my brother Luke had bought for five hundred bucks. Mom made Luke drive me to Saint John for swim club now that he had his license.

I took the backseat, even though I had to squish to fit in, because in two short minutes, Luke’s girlfriend of one month, Jolene, would claim the passenger seat.

We pulled into Jolene’s yard, the Rotten Apple rattling and puffing smoke as we idled, and Luke honked the horn. Jolene bounded out the front door and greeted us both with a very cheerful hello. She leaned over to Luke, and I looked away discreetly as they locked lips.

“Hey,” I said, not wanting to be rude. She only came along so that Luke had someone to hang out with while he burned an hour and a half waiting for me in Saint John. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Jolene. It was just that when she came, I had to sit in the backseat with Colby. I worried about all the mixed signals I’d sent to him the night before, accepting his warmth and comfort.

Like we were a couple and not just friends.

Colby was waiting on his front porch when we pulled onto his gravel driveway, a cloud of dust announcing our arrival. He pushed off the steps, throwing his swim gear over his shoulders. He had an athletic build, his t-shirt tight around well-formed biceps. He had soft facial features and dark-as-night eyes. I could see why a lot of girls liked him.

“Hi,” I said when he pushed himself in.

“You okay?” he said, not taking his eyes off mine.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I reached over to rub his buzz cut, a ritual I’d done a million times over the years. I loved the soft bristly feeling on my palm and the shape of his head.

Then an image flashed through my mind, unbidden–my fingers running through Tor’s dark wavy hair. Thinking of him caused tiny little flares to shoot through my body. I pinched my eyes closed, and shook it off. He was a freak. Not worth my time.

It took thirty minutes traveling north on Highway 1 to get to Saint John. We followed the coastline along the rocky beaches and inlets, white caps crashing against black jagged edges.

Jolene turned the radio on to an Indies station, and Colby and Luke started in on dirt biking stats, Colby’s second passion after swimming.

Finally, we got to the Canada Games Aquatic Center, aka,
Centre Aquatique Jeux du Canada
, on the corner of Union and Market. Some people complained about the strong chlorine smell, but I loved it. Almost as much as the salty scent of the ocean. I walked through the marked doors and took a deep breath. Ah, my second home.

I blocked out the chatter that echoed through the change rooms, suiting up in a plain red, one-piece Speedo, and stuffed my waist long white-blond hair into an ugly swim cap. Yes, it would be easier if I’d just cut my hair, but my hair was my trademark. It was the envy of all the girls at Eastcove Secondary School, apparently, with the exception of Samara. She was First Nations Canadian, and with her high cheekbones and chocolate caramel eyes, she had a Pocahontas thing going that would not only make John Smith look twice, but every guy on the planet.

“Listen up,” Coach said once we did a round of warm up laps and gathered at one end. “The Junior Nationals are in Vancouver this summer. As you know, there’s room for three of you on the team. From now on I’m keeping track of times and technique. I’ll let you know who makes it at the end of June.”

I looked at Colby whose dark eyes were staring hard back at me. We both knew we’d make the top two. But who would be number one?

Coach ordered us out of the water and into position. I replaced my goggles, nailing the wet alien look, wrapped my toes over the edge of the pool and squatted. Coach blew the whistle and we dove. My lane was next to Colby’s so we could gauge each other’s progress. I knew Coach did that on purpose because we were both competitive people and he wanted to use that to spur us on.

I felt my heart race, aware of Colby’s form beside mine just one stroke ahead. I stopped taking a breath every stroke, trying to make up time, wanting to catch him. I felt myself gaining. He hit the wall just before I did, flipped and headed back down the fifty meter long lane. I was right on his heels, focused and in rhythm. Stroke, stroke, stroke. I was catching Colby. I sensed it before I saw it. I could beat him.

But then I held back. I always held back. I let him win.

“Dori,” Coach said as I toweled off after practice. His eyes darted sideways a few times before settling on me. Uh oh. Coach probably wondered how Colby and I almost hit the same time, since Colby was obviously bigger and stronger. I wondered that myself. Did he think I cheated? Or worse, did he think I took drugs or something?

A heavy thug settled in my stomach. “Yeah, Coach?”

“I watched you during that first race.”

“I didn’t win,” I said. “Colby did.”

“I know. You didn’t win, Dori, but you didn’t breathe either.”

I felt my eyelids flutter. “What?”

Coach cocked his head. “The whole second length. You didn’t bring your head up to breathe once.”

“I didn’t? I must’ve. Coach, you weren’t watching me the whole time.”

“Yes, I was.”

What was the matter with me? I didn’t take a breath? Not once? I was so focused on beating Colby and then not beating him, I didn’t even notice.

Coach fiddled with the papers on his clipboard. “You have an extraordinary ability to hold your breath. That’s extremely useful to you as a swimmer.”

More eyelid fluttering. “Uh, thanks?”

He went back to his office and I left for the change rooms feeling relieved. So, I could hold my breath for a long time. So what? There were probably lots of people who could do that, like there were people with really long tongues who could touch their noses or people who were double jointed and could twist themselves into a pretzel. It was just like that. A freaky gift.

When I looked up, I saw Ally gawking at me. She’d been on the swim team as long as I had, but never placed near the top three. I wondered if she was staring because she’d noticed my freaky gift. But then I realized she was staring at my legs.

I glanced down. They were beet red.

“Dori,” Ally finally said. “What’s wrong with your legs?”

Now that I’d noticed the rash, suddenly they were unbelievably itchy. “I don’t know. Maybe the chlorine is out of whack.”

“My legs are okay.”

I checked them out. She was right. There was nothing wrong with her legs. Mine were itching and scaling like crazy.

“That looks like eczema,” Ally said. “A really bad case of eczema.”

Great. Just great. Not only did I have a circus worthy weirdo gift, I looked like a gigantic lobster, too.

CHAPTER FOUR

Mark, Luke and Dad were already seated at the table for Sunday brunch. With all five of us plus Nana who’d popped in, too, it was a tight fit. We’d become experts at keeping our elbows in and dodging tall beverage glasses.

Tor’s escape on Friday night was the talk around the table.

“Dori,” Nana said with a worried frown, “I heard you tried to save him. In the dark!”

One thing about a town like Eastcove, everyone knew everybody’s business.

“It was no big deal, Nana. I’m trained for that kind of thing. Besides, I didn’t find him. He found his own way out.”

“Must be some kind of swimmer,” Dad said. He was a gentle giant, beefy with wide shoulders and warm, soft brown eyes.

“Or some kind of stupid,” Luke quipped, as he spooned applesauce onto his fish pancakes.

“Shut up!” I said, scowling.

“Apparently he fell,” Mark said, showing some pity. “It happens.”

“Yeah, Luke,” I said defensively, “it happens.”

“I’m just glad everyone is okay.” Mom stood scanning the table for anything missing and then grabbed the salt, pepper and nutmeg out of the cupboard.

Nana eyeballed me as she chewed. She was slim from working in her flower garden, and from walking everywhere. She didn’t believe in cars, and if she needed to go to “the city,” Mom would take her. Her soft skin folded around a face accustomed to smiling and her short gray curly hair still had signs of the same blond Mom and I shared.