The Last Best Kiss

  “I can’t help it if I have hypersensitive sensory-input issues,” Oscar says. I don’t think he’s entirely joking.

  “I like the jets,” Finn says, stripping off his tee and joining the two guys in the water. “That’s two for, one against.”

  Phoebe says, “I don’t like them. It’s nicer when it’s quiet.”

  Finn looks at me. “Deciding vote,” he says. “Looks like you have to have an opinion of your own for once, Anna.”

  I stare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Yeah,” Phoebe says. “Anna’s as opinionated as any of us.”

  “Well, not as opinionated as you,” Oscar says to her. “But she’s right in there with me and Eric.”

  “All right, then,” Finn says, and crosses his arms over his chest. “Jets or no jets?”

  I don’t actually care, but I pick no jets because he voted for them, and he just implied—not for the first time, not even for the first time this evening—that I care too much about what other people think. Also? He’s made me sad tonight. Even if our conversation was supposedly just clearing the air and all that . . . I feel a little bit broken at the moment.

  So I say, “No jets.”

  Ha. Showed him.

  Oscar pumps his fist in triumph. “She loves me the most.” Not exactly the message I was going for, but I’m okay with it.

  “Or me,” Phoebe says. She steps down into the tub and immediately snuggles into a spot next to Eric.

  “Keep your hands where we can see them,” Oscar tells them.

  “Does the sight of other people’s affection make you uncomfortable?” Phoebe asks sweetly. “Maybe you should see a therapist about that.”

  “Trust me, I have.”

  I pause on the second step of the hot tub to let my legs adjust to the heat and realize Finn is watching me. It’s too dark for me to see his expression. His eyes glitter a little in the dark, but he looks away the second I glance at him. I’m suddenly self-conscious about being in a bikini: I’m so much curvier than thin, athletic Phoebe, who’s the only other girl out here now. I quickly sit down on the bench between Oscar and the steps, gasping as I sink into the hot water.

  “Oh, good,” Finn says, looking past the rest of us. “Here they are.”

  I turn. Hilary is striding toward us. She’s wearing a bikini and a sari kind of thing that ties at her waist. Lily is following more slowly. She’s still wearing her leather corset, but she’s changed back into jeans. She’s also barefoot.

  “I couldn’t get her to put on her bathing suit,” Hilary says when she reaches the tub. “I tried, but she’s being weird.”

  “She’s really stoned,” I say, but Hilary instantly shushes me.

  “I can’t hear that,” she says. “Seriously. If Dad starts asking questions, at this point I can honestly say that as far as I know, Lily hasn’t done anything illegal tonight.”

  “Like he’d even care,” says Lily, coming up behind her. “Did you see that blond he was talking to at dinner? Bet he brings her back to the room tonight.”

  “Shut up,” Hilary says with real anger. No, not just anger—panic. “Just shut up, Lily.”

  “They’re our friends,” Lily says, waving her hand around the hot tub. “We can be honest in front of them. Our dad cheats on our mom,” she tell us all.

  Hilary grabs her shoulder and swings her around so they’re nose to nose. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Fine, fine.” Lily suddenly kisses Hilary on the cheek. “Whatever you want, babe. I love you.”

  Hilary shoves her away. “God, I can’t wait until she comes down.”

  “I thought you didn’t even know she was high,” Oscar says.

  “You can shut up too.” With an almost violent jerk, Hilary undoes the knot at her waist and tosses the fabric onto a lounge chair. She plunges into the tub. I look at her with sympathy. Tonight hasn’t been any more fun for her than it has for me.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” Finn calls over to Lily, who’s still standing on the deck. “This whole thing was your idea.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she says noncommittally.

  “Go back to your room and put on a bathing suit.”

  “I don’t think she should wander around the hotel by herself,” I tell Finn quietly. “Someone should go with her.”

  He nods. “Yeah.” He stands up in the center of the hot tub. Water streams off his shoulders. They’re so much broader than they used to be. Much good it does me now. But I still look. I can’t seem to stop. His torso narrows down to a waist so slender that his board shorts sit low on his hips and you can see the bones jutting out above them. “I’ll go up with you. Keep you company.”

  Lily wags her finger at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Get me all alone up there? Help me take off my clothes?”

  Phoebe snickers. Finn crosses his arms and glares at Lily. “Do you want to put on a bathing suit or not?”

  “Nah. Too much work.” She suddenly plunges into the hot tub.

  “Your jeans are going to be soaked!” Hilary says, horrified.

  “I’m really worried about that.” She ducks down, so her head is completely underwater. She stands up quickly with a yelp and wipes her hair out of her eyes. “Man, that’s hot!”

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” her sister hisses. “You just ruined that top—and it cost a fortune.”

  “It’s not ruined.”

  “It’s leather,” Hilary says. “It’s ruined.”

  Lily shakes her head like a dog, spraying us all. “Who cares?” she says. “Who cares about anything? Just relax for once, Hil. Or don’t. Doesn’t matter to me.” She turns to Finn and throws herself against him.

  “Ugh,” he says, peeling off her arms and moving away from her. “Wet leather.”

  She looks around the tub. Phoebe and Eric are cuddling together with Phoebe’s head on his shoulder. Lily suddenly sends a big splash of water right at them. It hits Phoebe in the eyes, and she springs upright.

  “Oh my god, Lily! Why are you being so annoying!”

  “Why are you?”

  “What have I done?”

  “Look at yourself,” says Lily. “Just look at yourself.” She giggles.

  “I’m going back to the room,” Phoebe says, rising to her feet and tugging Eric up. “This stopped being fun.” They wade out of the hot tub. “Oh, great—no towels,” she spits out angrily. She drags on her terrycloth bathrobe and uses its belt to wipe off Eric a little before he puts on his T-shirt, and then they head back into the hotel.

  “Nicely done,” Hilary says to her sister. “Really. You’re charming tonight.”

  Lily sends another splash her way, then puts both her hands in the water and starts churning it up. “It’s a whirlpool!” she cries.

  “I think Phoebe had the right idea.” Oscar glides onto his feet. “Who wants to ride up in the elevator with me? We can press all the buttons before we get out.”

  “I do, I do.” I follow him out of the tub.

  “Let’s all go up,” Finn says. He rises and holds out his hand to Lily. “Come on. This didn’t turn out to be as relaxing as we’d all hoped.”

  Lily lets him pull her up. Her clothing is so waterlogged that she has to struggle her way out of the tub. “I want to swim in the pool first,” she says as the water pours off of her. “A quick dip.”

  “You can’t swim in those clothes,” Finn says. “They’re too heavy.”

  “People jump in pools in their clothes all the time. Haven’t you ever seen a teen movie? You go to a party, you jump in a pool. Or get pushed in. Hil, you want to come with me?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Hilary says. She has the hot tub all to herself now. She leans her head back and closes her eyes. “It’s freezing out. I’m going to soak for five more minutes and then go to bed.”

  “One quick dive and one lap,” Lily says to Finn. Her wet jeans stick to every curve of her narrow legs. She looks unearthly with her wet black hair, sm
udged dark makeup, and the sagging leather corset, like some sort of bedraggled modern-day witch. She turns toward the pool.

  Finn grabs at her arm. “Don’t,” he says. He’s shivering in the cold air, still wearing only his wet board shorts. He has his T-shirt in his hand, but he’s too busy dealing with Lily to put it on. I wrap my bathrobe around myself and wait for Oscar to finish drying himself off with the towel he (and he alone) had the foresight to bring down from the boys’ room.

  Lily breaks away from Finn. “I’ll be fast,” she says, and trots toward the pool. “Watch me—I’m going to dive.”

  “The sign says not to.” Finn points to a poster on the side of a wall. “Seriously, Lily—it’s really shallow.”

  “Who cares?” she says, right before leaping up at the edge and—as Finn shouts at her with rising panic—curving forward in a swift and messy swan dive. She disappears under the water as Finn shouts again. He races over, still calling her name, and Oscar and I are right behind him. We all crouch at the edge of the pool, staring down, trying to see where she is, because she’s taking too long to reappear. It’s Lily, so she’s probably teasing us. She’s probably holding her breath and will pop up in a second, laughing at us.

  Only she doesn’t.

  We’re all shouting her name now, and I don’t care if she comes up laughing at us for being worried, I just want her to come up, and then there’s movement in the water and a flash of something dark above the water, some part of her—but it’s not her head or her face—and Finn slides in feetfirst—and we can see how shallow the pool is now, because his feet touch and he’s standing with the water around his waist and that’s bad, very bad—she dove in, and it’s that shallow—and he’s dragging her up by what turns out to be her arm, and then he’s got her shoulders and he’s struggling to get her out of the water. She’s not helping him—she’s not moving at all—she’s deadweight, her head flopping back—and Oscar and I are trying to help, catching at whatever part of her we can, the two of us pulling and hauling as Finn pushes her up toward us, until we’ve got her completely out of the pool. Even with three of us, it’s a struggle. Her wet clothes are so heavy, and she’s so floppy.

  Oscar and I roll her onto her back, but her eyes aren’t open—she’s not responding at all. Finn hauls himself out of the pool and kneels down next to us.

  I keep waiting for her to look up and smile and tell us she’s joking, and I’m going to be so mad at her when she does because I’m scared right now. Really scared. And she shouldn’t make me feel this scared.

  I feel someone at my shoulder and look up. Hilary’s standing over me, dripping water. She’s saying “Is she okay?” over and over again.

  I look back down at Lily again. There’s a trickle of water coming out of the corner of her mouth and that scares me so much I want to start screaming and never stop, but the other part knows I can’t do that and is thinking about what we should do because we have to do something. I manage to say, “Who’s got a phone?” and I’m surprised at how normal my voice sounds because I feel like I should be shrieking. No one does. “Run inside and get them to call 911,” I tell Hilary. I have to repeat the direction, but it sinks in and she dashes—still in her bikini and soaking wet—toward the lobby doors.

  “What do we do?” Oscar’s voice is so hoarse, I can barely make out what he’s saying.

  “I think we should turn her on her side,” I say. “If she swallowed water, it’s better for her to be on her side.” I took a junior lifeguarding class a million years ago. That one bit of information seems to be the only thing I remember from it.

  “She’s breathing, right?” Finn is looking at me like I should know.

  Actually, though, I do—I can see her chest moving. “Yeah, I think so.” As we carefully turn her on her side, I can see streaks of something darker in the bleached strands at the bottom of her hair. I touch them and look at my fingers. “Her head’s bleeding,” I say.

  Oscar makes a choking, gasping sound.

  “I told her not to dive,” Finn says. “I should have held on to her. If I hadn’t let go—”

  “It’s not your fault,” I say. “She pulled away.”

  Hilary’s back at the pool gate. She opens it and runs across the courtyard toward us, followed by a pudgy middle-aged man in a suit and tie.

  “The ambulance is on its way,” he says as they get to us. He’s panting from the short run. Or maybe from panic. “Is she breathing?”

  “I think so,” I say. “But she hasn’t opened her eyes.”

  “Don’t try to move her.”

  “We just put her on her side—so she couldn’t choke if she vomited water. That’s okay, right?” I’m suddenly terrified I did the wrong thing, but he just stares at me blankly.

  “Is she going to be all right?” Oscar asks him.

  “God, I hope so,” he says. “I’m not a doctor—I just work for the hotel. What happened?” He stoops over, peering at her. “Is that blood? Holy shit. Sorry. Why is she bleeding?”

  “She dove into the pool.”

  “Headfirst?” the guy says with horror. “Are you all crazy? That pool is only four feet deep—there are No Diving signs everywhere.”

  “We told her to stop,” Finn says. His voice is so uncertain and high that he sounds like a little kid. We probably all do right now. I know I feel like one—like a scared, stupid little kid. I want some adult to take over and take care of Lily and make everything okay again—but I need an adult who knows more than I do, and I don’t think this guy does. “She didn’t listen. She just kept going.”

  “Was she drunk?” he asks. His eyes are hard as he glares around at each of us. Hard and weary. I know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t like teenagers in his hotel: they make his job harder, and they do stupid things like this.

  I shake my head but don’t elaborate.

  Hilary says, “I have to tell my dad. But I don’t have my phone.” I look up at her. She’s visibly shivering and clutching herself, still in that wet bikini, her eyes wild and unfocused. “What should I do, Anna? I can’t leave her. But I have to call my dad.”

  “Is your father here?” asks the hotel guy.

  “He’s probably still at the music festival. I don’t know. We have to tell him. But he’ll kill me. Is she going to be all right? What if she’s not? Why isn’t she moving?” Her words are turning into a wail.

  I’m still squatting down, so I grab hold of her ankle and squeeze it firmly. I tilt my head back so I can look up at her. “Hil. We just have to deal right now, okay? You can fall apart later. Go upstairs and put on some dry clothes and get your phone and wallet so you can go to the hospital. You can tell your dad to meet us there once we know which one it is. Okay?”

  “I don’t want to leave her.”

  “That’s why you have to get changed. You can’t go to the hospital like that, and you need to stay with her.” I turn to Oscar, who’s still kneeling next to me. “Will you take Hilary upstairs and help her get ready and bring her back down? You should get changed too. Finn and I will stay with Lily for now, and then we’ll get changed once you’re back. Right?” I look at Finn, who seems stunned but manages to nod.

  Oscar stands up and takes Hilary by the elbow and steers her toward the lobby. “Pack up some stuff for Lily,” I call after them. “Some clothes and whatever else she might need.” Oscar raises his hand in an I got you gesture. But Hilary’s head just sags forward. No response. They disappear into the lobby.

  Then we wait for a while. The hotel guy, Finn, and me. All of us crouching over Lily’s body, not doing anything to or with it, because what can we do? She’s on her side, breathing but unconscious, her pants sodden, her mouth still leaking dark-looking water, her hair sticky with blood. I don’t have the guts or knowledge to start poking around to see how bad the wound is.

  It occurs to me that I’m very cold, my bathrobe soaked through from my wet bathing suit, the night air freezing. But it’s like my body is far away from me, and I note
how I’m shivering with an almost clinical detachment. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that Lily needs to open her eyes and make us all angry at her for scaring us so much.

  “I shouldn’t have let go of her,” Finn mutters, almost to himself, after we’ve waited there in silence for a minute.

  “I should have kept the pool gate locked while the music festival was in town,” the hotel guy says morosely. “I should have known something like this would happen.”

  Hil and Oscar reappear just as we hear the sirens of the arriving ambulance. Lucy and Phoebe and Eric are with them, dressed in sweatpants and hoodies. I don’t waste time talking to them, just jump to my feet and haul Finn up next to me.

  “Come on,” I say. “We need to get changed so we can go to the hospital with everyone else.” I tug him toward the lobby, and at first he seems reluctant to walk away—keeps twisting around like he needs to keep an eye on Lily—but then he suddenly seems to get that there’s time pressure and speeds up and runs into the lobby and then I say, “Let’s take the stairs—it’ll be faster,” so we find the door to the stairs and run up and then I open the girls’ room with my key—it’s lucky I already put on my bathrobe, since it’s in the pocket—and that’s when he realizes he doesn’t have his, that it’s still with his T-shirt down by the pool. He hits himself angrily in the head, but I remind him that our rooms connect and he can get in that way, so he follows me inside. Once the door closes behind us, he stops for a moment and just stands there.

  “Anna,” he says, and I look at him and I see how his face is screwing up like a little kid’s who’s been hurt, so even though we don’t have time for it, I put my arms around his neck and he buries his face in my shoulder and just shakes for a while. I don’t know if he’s crying or just shuddering, but I give him about ten seconds and then I gently push him away and say, “We have to get ready, or the ambulance will leave without us.”

  “Right,” he says, without meeting my eyes, and races into the other room, where I’m guessing he’s doing what I’m doing, which is tearing off my bathing suit without any concern about whether or not he might see, because right now I care a lot more about speed than modesty. My suit’s off within seconds, and it takes about one minute longer for me to throw my clothes back on. I stick my feet in my flip-flops, grab my purse and key, and call over to Finn, who calls back that he’s just about ready. He reappears in the doorway in jeans and a sweatshirt, and I say, “Let’s go.”