Coming Up for Air

  “Gina!” she calls, and her assistant comes running with an iPad. “Can you call Southern Rentals and switch the ivory silk linens to the blue damask?”

  Gina nods and rushes off.

  “Ivory to blue damask?” I say. That’s a pretty significant change.

  “It turns out the bride recently attended another wedding that was in ivory, so naturally she needs something different.” Mom rolls her eyes, even though the client is always right. She stands up, smoothing her bushy brown hair back into a ponytail like mine. “Let’s eat.”

  Most days I join Mom and Dad for an early dinner here before I walk home to do my homework and they leave for whatever event they’re doing that night. I sit down with them in the dining room where they do tastings for potential clients. They often test their new creations on me.

  “What do you think of the King’s cashew chicken?” Dad asks me.

  “It’s good,” I say, biting into it and chewing angrily. I’m still pissed at Levi for telling Coach about Roxy. I’m still angry about Roxy in general.

  Mom keeps shooting Dad looks. Dad, meanwhile, is jotting notes about the food. I peek over at his notebook. Needs more flavor. Cook it in garlic butter?

  “Pass the bread, please,” I say.

  Dad gives me the basket of rolls. “I’m calling them ‘perfect pumpernickel’ rolls.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Maggie, Coach Josh called,” Mom says.

  Coach Josh is such a busybody.

  “Do you want to talk?” Mom goes on.

  “I’m fine.”

  “What’s going on?” Dad cuts in.

  “Nothing!”

  “Why didn’t you tell us Roxy is going to Cal?” Mom asks, and Dad pauses with a forkful of chicken halfway to his mouth.

  “It’s no big deal.”

  My parents glance at each other. “Are you sure you still want to go there?” Mom asks, concerned.

  I don’t want to let my parents down or cause them any extra stress. They’ve sacrificed so much for my swimming career. Until Levi and I could drive, my parents were often catering events until one or two in the morning, and then they’d wake up at four to drive me to practice. And don’t even get me started on all the times they would rush straight from a Saturday meet to finish setting up a lavish wedding. Take tonight for example. They’re catering the mayor’s cocktail party in honor of his eighth year in office.

  “I’m not giving up Cal,” I say. “I’ve worked my whole life for this.”

  “Damn right,” Dad says with a smile, giving me a fist bump. “Now tell me what you really think of this chicken.”

  I return the smile. Everyone else is freaking out about Roxy, which is the last thing I need. What I need is normal. Lucky for me, Dad gets that.

  I change the subject. “Any news on whether you won the bid to cater the pajama party?”

  “Not yet,” Mom says.

  The city of Franklin holds an event every year in April to celebrate industry in our town. The pajama factory used to be the biggest business around here, and a lot of people credit our economy to it. Therefore, we celebrate all the pajamas. Sometimes Mom and Dad win the contract to cater the party, and other times they don’t. We’re the best, but the town doesn’t want to be seen as playing favorites by only awarding it to one company over and over.

  “If we lose to Musgrave again,” Dad says, “I am moving to Canada.”

  Maybe having rivals runs in our family. I have Roxy. Dad has Diane Musgrave, who always tries to outdo his ideas. When he designed a vintage Barbie-themed party for a little girl’s fifth birthday, Diane Musgrave retaliated by turning a client’s home into Barbie Dreamhouse.

  After dinner, I’m so exhausted I trudge home and barely have the strength to make it through my homework. Once I’m done, I check texts on my phone as I get ready for bed. No matter what, even if we’re pissed at each other, Levi and I always text good night before going to sleep.

  I click on the message from him: Forgive me?

  I write back: Yes, you big idiot. Good night.

  Good night, M.

  A Proposal

  The Thursday morning after I saw Roxy at Cal, Jason carries his cell phone out onto the pool deck.

  Coach Josh’s three rules are (1) shower before swimming, (2) don’t swim alone, and (3) try to improve each day, but I’m pretty sure “don’t bring your phone to the pool” will become his fourth rule. The second we’re out of the water, we rush for our phones like a zombie mob.

  But it’s weird that Jason’s on his phone before practice. I mean, it’s five o’clock in the morning. Everyone who could possibly be texting him at this hour is here at the pool.

  He comes over as Levi and I are stretching our arms before we get in the water. Jason stares down at his screen. “Uh, Maggie, there’s a picture of you going around.”

  I peer over his arm at the photo. It’s an unattractive shot of me staring at the Cal pool with my hands on my hips and a confused look on my face. The caption reads: Need swimming lessons?

  I groan.

  Levi grabs the phone, looks at the screen, and shoves it back at Jason. “Don’t show Mags that shit.”

  “Levi, I can handle it myself. Jason, don’t show me that shit.”

  “Sorry,” Jason snaps. “I figured you’d want to know. I would.”

  Jason tucks his phone under his towel on a bench, then does a running 360 spin jump into the pool. Susannah turns rap music on the sound system and dances her way over to splash into the water.

  After seeing that picture, I sigh, not ready to dive yet.

  “Can’t Roxy find anything better to do?” I say loudly over the beats coming from the speakers.

  “We don’t know that it was her,” Levi replies.

  I raise an eyebrow. “That picture was taken last week at the Cal pool, Leaves.”

  “Okay, she probably did it.” He squeezes my shoulder. “But it makes her look bad, not you.”

  “I know. But I still don’t feel good.”

  “She’s trying to rile you up so she’ll have an advantage. Don’t let her win.”

  Then Levi pushes me playfully into the pool and cannonballs in next to me. After splashing my best friend to get him back for pushing me, I channel my tension into owning this practice.

  Out of the pool, however, the tension races back.

  By Friday I can’t wait to meet my friends for dinner at Jiffy Burger. I need to relax.

  Levi drives us to the diner, where Hunter and Georgia already have our usual booth staked out. They are carrying on as usual when we sit down. The waitress takes our order, and then we start talking about our lives.

  “Mom found out that the Tennessee coach gave me a diet plan to follow,” Georgia says. “I couldn’t wait for college, to get away from my parents and do my own thing, but it looks like my coach is going to be just as controlling as Mom. Ugh.”

  Unlike my parents, who support me no matter what, Mrs. Layne won’t let her daughter leave the house without makeup and thinks eating at Jiffy Burger is a bad idea because grease “ruins your complexion.” Georgia used to be an elite gymnast, but grew too tall and wasn’t good enough to stay competitive in the sport at the highest levels. That’s why she switched to cheerleading. Regardless of what Georgia’s gymnastics coach said—that she most likely wouldn’t ever make a national or Olympic team—Mrs. Layne thought Georgia should’ve stuck with it and tried harder.

  Georgia’s mom married her high school boyfriend, was the star of the University of Alabama gymnastics team, and hasn’t aged a day in twenty years. She thinks Georgia needs to follow the same perfect life plan, and that requires sticking to a diet.

  “How’d your mom find out?” I ask, hoping she didn’t hack her email. I wouldn’t put it past Mrs. Layne.

  “I hadn’t gotten around
to answering the coach’s email,” Georgia says, “so she called our house and left a message on the answering machine. Then Mom got pissed because ‘a lady always responds to correspondence’ and said I need to follow the diet.”

  Hunter puts a friendly arm around her shoulders. “You look great. Don’t listen to them.”

  “It’s not about how I look.” Georgia crosses her arms. “Apparently it’s about starting healthy habits now so I don’t gain the freshman fifteen.”

  Levi stares her straight in the eyes. “You work out all the time. You won’t gain weight. You need to eat to keep your strength up.”

  “I know,” Georgia says in a tiny voice. “Why can’t people be happy with who I am? Why am I not good enough?”

  It’s not only her mom that makes her question herself. Last year Georgia dated a guy who didn’t treat her very well. He cheated on her, and she hasn’t dated since. It rattled her self-confidence. He was the asshole, but it made her think she was lacking somehow, which is totally bullshit. She’s smart, loyal, and beautiful.

  When our server drops off our food, nobody moves to dig in.

  “We love you,” Hunter says, squeezing her shoulder. He’s such a great guy friend to her, like Levi is to me. “And we’re all that matter.”

  “But you guys won’t always be there,” she says quietly. “It’s only six months until I start college, and you’ll all be so far away…but at least there I’ll be away from my mom.” Georgia takes a long sip of water, presumably to distract herself.

  Music from the jukebox fills the silence that falls over our table.

  I wish I had a way of helping Georgia feel better. That’s always been Hunter’s job. He gives Levi and me a knowing look.

  “So I had another run-in with Shelby’s dad,” Hunter announces.

  Georgia spits out her water. “Nooo.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have gone back to her house, but I needed to see her.”

  “Did you go in through a secret passageway?” I ask.

  “No. Shelby suggested I pretend to be a pizza delivery guy.”

  Georgia narrows her eyes as she uses a napkin to clean up the water she spewed. “What?”

  Hunter shrugs. “Shelby said it would be adventurous.” He takes a bite of his cheeseburger.

  “How did you pretend to be a pizza delivery guy?” Levi asks.

  “You know my teammate Logan? Well, he works for Pizza Hut. He let me borrow his uniform and the sign for the top of my truck.”

  “Then what?” Levi asks, eating fries one at a time, like popcorn, watching Hunter as if he’s a movie.

  “I got to her house. She pulled me into the parlor, where we started making out on the sofa. We were really getting into it when her dad showed up—he saw the pizza delivery truck outside and wanted a slice…but I didn’t have one.”

  “You didn’t have a pizza?” I ask.

  Hunter looks sheepish. “That’s the one part of the costume I forgot.”

  “How do you forget the pizza when you’re pretending to be the pizza delivery dude!” Georgia asks.

  Hunter squirms in his seat. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  “Clearly,” Levi jokes, and we all start laughing again.

  “But it was worth it,” Hunter says.

  “For a two-minute make-out session?” Georgia asks.

  “I really like her. I keep asking her to be my girlfriend, but she says no since I’m leaving in June.” Before he starts classes at the Air Force Academy this fall, Hunter has to complete boot camp over the summer. He leaves right after graduation.

  Hunter drops his burger onto his plate, aggravated. “I guess we’ll just keep sneaking around… I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

  “You don’t want to go to Colorado?” Levi asks.

  “I want both,” Hunter says. “I want to go to the Academy and stay with Shelby.”

  Hunter’s father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and pretty much every male member of his family was in the Air Force. I’m not sure if Hunter actually wants to join, or if he’s doing it because it’s expected of him. I’m not sure he can make the distinction himself.

  I feel bad for him, but listening to the story gets me even more wound up than I already was. And by wound up, I mean…turned on. It’s not normal for your friend’s silly hook-up story to turn you on, right? I sigh, wishing I had someone to make out with. Sure, some people exercise to relieve stress, but I already exercise for half the day, so I need some other way to get rid of this tension.

  When I roll my shoulders, I catch Levi giving me a concerned look.

  Dinner is over sooner than I would like, but I need my rest before conferences tomorrow. In the parking lot, as I walk to the truck, I stretch my arms over my head. Levi walks up behind me and massages my upper back. His thumbs expertly work my knotted muscles. I peek over my shoulder at him, and he returns my smile.

  “Feeling tight?” he asks.

  “A little.”

  He pokes my back. “This knot isn’t little. It’s bigger than a golf ball. Hot tub?”

  “Yesss!”

  If there’s one thing I truly need in life, it’s a hot tub. I’m lucky my best friend has one.

  Back at his house, we find his mom actually home at a reasonable hour, playing a game of Scrabble with Oma and Opa in the kitchen. Two empty wine bottles and the remains of a cheese platter sit on the table. Pepper is zonked out in her doggie bed; the hair hanging over her eyes flutters when she snores.

  “Maggie!” Levi’s family says, and they each demand a kiss on the cheek. I oblige, then sit down next to his mom.

  She gives me a sly smile. “Got a surprise for you.” She reaches into her tote bag on the counter and pulls out a CD with Jesse Scott’s face on it. It’s his next album, which doesn’t come out for another month! He autographed it: “To my favorite future Olympian.”

  I squeal and hug the CD. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t know what you see in that guy,” Levi says to me.

  “Me neither,” Ms. Lucassen jokes. “He’s going to send me to an early grave.”

  As an executive at Rêve, she spends most of her time managing the Jesse Scott account, and with that boy’s drama, it’s definitely a full-time job.

  I examine the CD. It’s a picture of the country star standing next to a tractor, staring into the sunset. “I love this picture.”

  “I can’t wait to tell him you said that,” Ms. Lucassen says. “Jesse’s decided that tractors are lame and wants a new brand.”

  “But all his album covers feature a tractor.”

  “I love those tractors,” Oma tells Opa, who muses, “If the ladies like tractors, maybe I should get one.”

  Ms. Lucassen says, “Jesse suggested a cover photo of him grilling at a cookout.”

  I cringe. “That sounds like something my dad would do.”

  “Exactly,” Ms. Lucassen says. “I know what sells. Jesse Scott flipping burgers in a Hawaiian shirt would not sell. Standing shirtless by a tractor always sells.”

  Levi rolls his eyes.

  “But Jesse did say to wish you both good luck at conferences tomorrow,” she adds. “He’ll be rooting for you.”

  “Levi doesn’t need luck,” Oma complains. “He’s got my genes.” Oma was a champion swimmer back in the Netherlands.

  Opa rearranges his Scrabble tiles, grumbling, “He’s got my genes too.”

  “You were a mailman!” Oma says.

  “Walking all day takes lots of endurance,” Opa retorts.

  “Maggie needs to relax before tomorrow, so we’ll be going now,” Levi says, steering me away from a round of Oma-Opa WrestleMania.

  In the powder room, I change into my suit, then I meet him on the back porch, which overlooks their yard and Normandy Lake. Their house is on a prime piece of property and
has a private beach. When we were little, Levi accused me of being his friend for his lake access.

  “Not just that,” I’d say. “You have a trampoline too.”

  We still love to lie on it in summertime, as the smell of honeysuckle wafts over us. But since it’s February, we stick to the hot tub.

  I pull off the towel I borrowed from Levi, revealing a navy blue one piece. I have exactly one bikini, but I only wear it to the beach. All my other suits are practical. Maybe I should get some more bikinis for college. I mean, what if college kids spend lots of time in Jacuzzis?

  I ease into the hot water. Steam wafts off the surface into the brisk starry night. The air smells clean, as if it might snow.

  Still standing on the deck, Levi strips out of his gray New Wave sweatshirt and track pants down to black jammers. It’s weird seeing him in those; normally he wears Speedos at the pool like the other guys. His other suits must be in the wash.

  He slides in next to me and stretches his arms over the edge of the hot tub on either side of him. It seems like every day his muscles are getting bigger and bigger. I see him without a shirt on all the time, but here in the dark, suddenly his buff body and long blond hair reminds me of what happened with Dylan. I clear my throat.

  “What?” Levi asks.

  “I was just thinking about that weird guy at Cal.”

  “Your thick, juicy steak dinner boy?” Levi says, flashing me a smile.

  “Would you shut up about that?”

  “You brought him up.” Levi throws his head back and looks up at the moon. Wispy clouds are floating in from a distance, stark white against the black sky.

  “Why were you thinking about him?” Levi asks.

  “I’m kind of pissed it didn’t work out.”

  “Guy seems like a loser to me, Magpie. I’d never take a girl to a place where she wouldn’t feel safe.”

  “You’re right, it was lame. It’s that…I was hoping before college I could fool around with somebody.”

  Levi turns his head to look at me. “You gonna look for a boyfriend?”

  “No, nothing that serious. You know I don’t have time for that. I just want to know what I’m doing when I get to college. Like, I don’t want college guys to think I’m a loser.”