“You should’ve called.”

“A friend . . .” I caught myself when I imagined how smug Jackson’s smile would be if he heard me say that. “Well . . . not really a friend but this guy I know gave me a ride home.”

“That was nice of him. Tell him thank you.”

What would be nice would be if I had a car. How come I couldn’t say that out loud? “I’m going to the charity dinner,” I said instead. It wasn’t a good instead. It was a bad instead. It was an instead that gave my mom what she wanted and expressed none of my frustration.

She clapped her hands and rose up on her toes. “Oh, I knew you would. I’m so happy.” She hugged me again. Her hair smelled like vanilla and lilacs. She pushed me out by my shoulders. “Your coach called about it and we had a long chat.”

“Coach called?” I guess DJ gave him the message about why I wanted to talk to him, after all. Thank you, DJ. I owed him a dollar.

“Yes, and I know he wanted us to be at the banquet, but he understands.”

“He does? He wasn’t mad?”

“Of course not. You’ll have so many award ceremonies in the future. Ones that don’t conflict with other important dates.”

She was right. I would. I nodded and then wandered off to my room while she hummed happily in the kitchen.

I clicked on my music, the sound immediately stilling my mind. My computer was open on my desk. I swiped my finger across the trackpad to wake it up and it dinged with a notification.

Heath Hall is a man of many talents, he’d written in response to my claim that his activities seemed to have a wide range.

I sat at my desk. I wouldn’t exactly call bungee jumping a talent.

Really?

Not even close. Now that painting, that was talent.

Well, good thing it’s not about showing off talents, then.

What is it about?

After a long pause that had me wondering if he was going to answer at all, he said, Facing fears. Expressing secrets. Discovering truth.

Expressing secrets? That seems to be the exact opposite of what you do.

True.

That answer was maddening. I thought back to the museum when he had said he’d always feared showing his art in public. That was a fear and now he was facing another one?

So what? You’re afraid of heights? Of falling?

This time he didn’t answer my question. He asked one. Do you have any fears?

The cursor blinked on the screen, over and over. It seemed to blink in time to the beat of the song playing over my speakers. Of course I had fears. Too many. Ones I didn’t want to think about. The song ended and silence filled my room. My chest constricted. When a new song started, I blew out a breath.

I can’t think of anything. Spiders?

Sixteen

I stood outside the chain-link fence, staring at the crowded pool the next day, a scowl on my face. Coach had given us the afternoon off, and I figured it was because he’d wanted us to have a rest day before the meet, but maybe it was because he had to give up the pool. When had water polo started? That was a fall sport. Did they have a spring league I didn’t know about? I hated sharing the pool with other people. The reminder that it wasn’t just my pool was a hard one to accept.

I tromped back to my dad’s truck that I had borrowed. I could go do an ocean swim but the waves screwed up my timing. There was a lake I frequented but it was only April so it would be freezing. As I started my drive home, however, my body itched. It felt like it was on fire. I needed to swim. I could handle cold.

It was a twenty-minute drive to my favorite spot. I parked in a dirt lot and took the trail that would be my stomping ground this summer. A trail I was pretty sure I had single-handedly made the summer before. I stepped out of my shoes, taking in the trees that surrounded the lake. I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful place to swim. The sky was bright blue and there was a part between the deep green trees and hills where it touched the water that made it seem like I could swim past the edge of the lake and continue into the sky forever.

I took off my sweats and stepped into the water. It was even colder than I had imagined it would be, taking my breath away. I went to click on my music but stopped myself. I could prove I was able to be alone with my own thoughts. I threw my cap and player on top of my sweats, submerged myself in the water, then floated on my back, staring at the sky. I lay there, the water slowly numbing my skin, seeping into my ears, muffling sound. I let my arms and legs drift. I had to force myself not to do a single stroke.

It had been years since I’d been in water without swimming. Not since I was a kid. The sky above felt like it was sitting on my chest. My final swim meet of the season was coming up. And then my brother’s benefit. Maybe I could set a personal record at my swim meet. That might help dampen some of the sad feelings my parents would surely feel at the benefit.

Every two seconds my arm twitched, my brain trying to make it do what it did every time it was here. After sixty more seconds I gave up and swam. As if to punish myself for the small break, I swam twice as long.

What do you do for fun? That was the question waiting for me from Heath Hall after dinner that night. Did he think we were chatting buddies now? Maybe if we were, he would slip up and give away who he was. I could keep chats surface level. Only saying things everyone already knew about me.

Swim. I typed even though my shoulders were telling me otherwise at the moment, sitting under a couple of ice packs.

No, I said for fun.

That is fun for me. What about you?

He seemed good at keeping chats surface level too, though. Or avoiding questions altogether. Swimming is fun for you? It seems like work.

I don’t get paid for it.

Is that the only way you measure work?

Is there another way? I asked.

Putting more into something than you get out of it.

So he thought I put more into swimming than I got out of it? Why did everyone assume that? Why was everyone always trying to talk me out of something that made me happy? I typed my response. So by that definition, does that mean fun is getting more out of something than you put into it?

Absolutely.

I don’t know that I agree with that. Sometimes hard work brings a sense of accomplishment that feels amazing.

That just proved my definition of work, not disproved it. So what do you do for fun?

Did this line of questioning give me any hints as to who Heath Hall was? Obviously someone who thought I swam too much. There were probably a lot of people who thought that. It didn’t really narrow it down much. Today I stared at the sky. It took zero effort and I got a lot out of it. That was only half true. It actually took me a lot of effort to stare at that sky. It still felt a little like it was sitting on my chest.

What did you get out of it?

Looking at the sky?

Yes.

I lied: Relaxation.

This was the second time I found myself outside the art room this week after practice. The first time had produced no leads. But this one had. My heart was pounding as I waited to cut him off as he came out. I still couldn’t believe he was in there. I had no idea he liked art. But he couldn’t be Heath Hall. We’d ruled him out. Why would it be him? When we chatted the other day online, Heath had said that the mask was about keeping secrets. Had he kept this huge secret from me for months when we were together? It didn’t seem possible. It wasn’t.