The Sea Taketh (Alex Singer) (15 page)

*     *     *

When we pull up to the competition venue, I instantly know I’m in for a long evening. A large crowd of people are waiting with
Vogues
in hand. I put my hoodie over my head and push my glasses further up my nose. Just as I’m about to get out of the car, the school bus with our swim team shows up. The people around the building charge it.

             
“Now’s our chance,” Jen says, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go!”

             
We easily slip into the school. The Pedersens escort us to the visitors’ dressing room. Christian stops me at the door. He pulls a gold chain out of his pocket. On it is a lovely, white pearl pendant. He pulls back my hood and clasps the chain around my neck.

             
“For luck,” he tells me.

             
“I can’t accept this.” I lift my hands to take it off.

             
He stops me. “It is a small token of my affection, especially since tonight is our first official date.”

             
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

             
He outlines my face with a gloved finger. “It’s what I know.”

             
“I’m still grounded.”

             
“I have permission to take you to dinner after the meet. Thomas insists that you eat a big meal before the drive back to Seaside.”

             
“You have it all worked out, don’t you?”

             
He smiles. “See, I’m absolutely full of ideas.”              

             
“Yeah, I see that. I better get going.” I turn into the locker room and shut the door behind me, wondering what he has planned.

             
“Girl, that guy has it for you…bad.” Jen shakes her head, looking at the necklace. “He definitely likes a girl who plays hard to get.”

             
“I’m not playing. I am hard to get.”

             
“And it totally does it for him. I just wish Sven was that into me.” She steps out of her sweatpants. “Sure, he’s always up for food and a game of volleyball, but he’s not giving me expensive jewelry.”

             
I look at the large pendant hanging around my neck.

“It’s just costume jewelry,” I say.

              “No, it’s a real pearl with real diamonds in real gold.” She rolls her eyes.

             
Stunned, I hide it with my hands.

“I can’t accept this!” I hiss to her.

              “Tell him that, not me.” She pulls a swim cap out of her bag. “But I don’t think you’ll get far. He’s just as stubborn as you are. Have you ever thought that maybe he’s right? What if you two do belong together?”

             
“I decide my destiny, not some obnoxious boy.”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean you can’t choose him. You can give yourself pe
rmission to like Christian.”

Her words ricochet through my mind. I’ve been so focused on avoiding all boys that I haven’t thought about it like that. Jen’s right, ultimately I am the architect of my destiny. I, Alex Singer, will become a scientist. I will better the lives of people around the world. But whoever said that I couldn’t fall in love along the way? I try to debate this point with myself as I change for the competition.

Later, as Jen and I wait for a race, she laughs as she puts away her phone. “Sven just texted me. He told me, ‘good luck’. I think those guys have something up their sleeves.”

“Why do you say that?” I say, suspecting she’s right.

“Because he told me to work up an appetite,” she says.

“You will.” I stretch my arms above my head. “You’re going to have to swim your fastest if you’re going to beat me today.”

“Is that a challenge, Alexandra Singer?” She smirks.

“Absolutely, Jenifer Marsh, I’m going to make you cry like a little boy.” I smile sweetly at her. “How’s it going to feel to be put in your place by a nerdy model?”

“I hope you can back up that smack talk!” She laughs. I hear the excitement in her voice and know she’s about to swim the race of a lifetime.

We take our places next to the pool. I forget all about
Vogue
until my name is announced. The bleachers go crazy. Complete strangers yell out their accolades and even a few marriage proposals. I put ear plugs into my ears to block out the noise. I have one goal and one goal only, getting Jen to take several seconds off the state record. I don’t care about the other competitors. There is only the clock.

When the signal is given, I dive in. As always, Jen is slightly ahead of me, but I immed
iately begin pushing her. She responds by swimming faster. At each turn I increase my tempo, and she increases hers. On the final turn, I know she’s tired, but I push her all the way to the wall, making sure I touch after her.

             
I pull out my earplugs to find total mayhem: Coach Jones is screaming like a maniac, the bleachers are one massive mess of screaming spectators, our team is jumping all around us, and Jen triumphantly raises her arms, lifting one of mine with hers. Once again, we’ve taken first and second. Unlike every meet before, this time Jen has smashed the state record.

             
“Look at our times!” she screams to me.

             
“Wow, that’s fast!” I go along with the excitement.

             
“Girl, you were cruising! When you said you were going to bring it, you were telling the truth!”

             
A huge figure pulls Jen out of the pool and eagerly hugs her. Sven doesn’t even care that Jen’s getting his clothes wet.

“You were incredible!” he shouts above the other cheers.

              “Yeah, I was!” She blissfully hugs him back.

             
My eyes go to Christian in the stands. He simply inclines his head as he claps his hands as if saying, “touché.”

*     *     *

              “Can you believe all those college coaches wanted to talk to me?” Jen exclaims on the ride home. “Between them and all Alex’s fans, I didn’t think we’d ever get out of there.”

             
“They should want to talk to you; you’re a fantastic swimmer.” Sven affectionately pats the top her head as he drives.

             
I massage my right hand, relieving my sore muscles from all the autographs I gave.

“When are we going to eat? I’m starving,” Jen says.

              “You will have to wait. We have a short drive until we get there,” Sven answers as we drive through a darkening forest.

             
“But there aren’t any restaurants between here and Seaside?”

             
“Who said we were going to a restaurant?”

             
“What are you three up to?” she asks, glancing around the car.

             
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

             
Christian is unusually quiet as he takes my hands and begins rubbing them for me. I rest my head on the back of the seat and close my eyes. A huge debate is going on in my mind. One part of me is terrified by the idea of being vulnerable enough to allow myself to get close to Christian, and the other part is trying to shut down my brain as his warm hands hold mine.

“We’ve been driving forever,” Jen whines. “How much longer until we get there?”

“Be patient, we’re almost there,” Sven responds.

“Don’t tell me to be patient, you big oaf! I saw you snacking at the meet and all you were doing was sitting around!”

Sven laughs with delight. “Do you know what you remind me of? A little Stinging Jellyfish! I think that’s what I’ll call you, little Stinging Jellyfish!”

“Oh, you make my heart all aflutter,” Jen says sarcastically as she rolls her eyes. “Do you have a mint or something I can have while I wait for this expedition to end?”

Sven laughs, again. He pulls onto a small dirt road and parks the car. “No mint, we’re here.”

Christian holds my hand as we walk onto a deserted beach. A full moon shines over the ocean, reflecting off the waves. I shiver as a cool, fall breeze blows over the water. Christian takes off his jacket and puts it over my shoulders. He directs me to where Henrik is starting a small fire.

“Tell me that we’re toasting marshmallows,” Jen says excitedly, plopping down next to me.

Sven removes a large bag out of an old fashioned picnic basket. “Yes, but you’re having something real first.”

“Pull out the hotdogs!”

“Why would we eat hotdogs?” Sven asks. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “We’re having crab.”

“Of course, why would I expect something
normal
?”

“What are you talking about? Crab is perfectly normal, and these tasty little fellows were pulled out of the ocean this morning.” Sven puts a pot full of rock crabs on the fire.

“I hope you fishtarians thought of something besides seafood?” Jen pulls Sven’s jacket off him and wraps up in it. He smiles at her as he lifts a bowl of peaches out of the basket.

“You guys have been holding out on us!” Jen grabs the peaches and takes one before passing the bowl to me. I also take a peach.

“Do you want one?” I ask Christian.

He shakes his head. I pass them back to Jen.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” I say to him before taking a bite of my peach.

“I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind,” he says, gazing out over the ocean.

“Having problems with your hair gel?” I tease while eating my peach.

“How did you guess?”

“I am an expert on beauty,” I mock. “I can smell a problem with hair gel a mile away.”

“You have a rare talent. I hope you use your powers for good.”

“Yeah, I help all the less fortunate with their hair follicles.” 

He smiles faintly.

I’m a little taken aback. Christian is always so sure of himself, so confident. He’s the only teenager I know who’s self-assured enough to call adults by their first names, and they let him. It’s as though even our teachers seek his approval.  It’s a little unsettling to see him without his poised smile.

“Is your family okay?” I ask
, quietly.

He continues to gaze out over the sea.

“They are perfectly fine – at the moment.”

“Do you need some help with your homework? I know that last English test was brutal.”

“My grades are also fine.”

“Have I done something to upset you?” I ask.

“You have permanently upset my life,” he says. “However, this is a good thing.”

“I’
m the reason you’re melancholy?”

He puts an arm around my waist and pulls me close. “I’m not melancholy. I’m medit
ative.”

His touch is so alluring that I lay my head on his shoulder. “And what are you medita
ting?”

“That question is an expensive one. It requires a lot more than a penny for my thoughts.”

“That’s probably for the best. I don’t have any money, but it works out because this guy I’m dating insists on paying for everything.”

The corners of his lips turn up, and his eyes twinkle in the moonlight.

“Yes, he does,” he says.  The meditative look returns as he glances in the distance. “Alexandra, please tell me why you are frightened of the ocean.”

Anxiety fills my chest as I sit up and fearfully shake my head.

“I’m sure Marjory has already told you,” I say, hoping to avoid the question.

“I know bits and pieces, but I would like to hear it from you.”

“I-I love the ocean.” I give in as my body begins to tremble. This topic frightens me above all others. I quietly continue, “I love the sound of the breaker and the feel of the waves under Gramps’ boat. I love the smell of the salty ocean air.”

             
“And?”

             
“And, I hate the ocean,” I answer in a hushed voice. My body trembles more violently. He holds me tighter. “I hate it for our dependency on it, but most of all, I hate it for taking my parents.”

             
“How did it happen?” he asks, quietly.

             
“We went out for a picnic, the weather changed, and the boat sank,” I condense it because just talking about it brings me indescribable sorrow.

             
“How did you survive?”

             
I pause for what seems like eternity. His is the question I always dread. My answer to this question is a part of what has labeled me as “delicate.”  It also causes me to question my own sanity. When I answer this question, Christian Pedersen will no longer trouble himself with me.