Page 21 of Breathing Under Water

I watch Rae and Lark look at each other with these awful devilish grins, like they’re savoring this idea.

“Stop it!” I scold. “We’re supposed to be a team. That includes Coach and Marcy too. We shouldn’t be relishing something that could actually hurt them or people they care about. Teammates take care of each other and defend each other.”

“She acts like we owe each other so much,” Rae says, looking at Lark. “It’s not like we’re blood sisters or something.”

The way she dismisses our connection, making me out to be someone who’s so much more emotionally invested than they are, completely triggers me. “You don’t get to say that,” I seethe, pushing my plate away with such force that it slams into the open ketchup bottle, which tips and splatters a trail of red across the table.

“Dang, McKenna,” Lark says. “It’s not that deep, okay? We’re just talking smack. You know we all love each other. Right, Rae?”

Rae looks back toward me, and though she’s clearly still annoyed, she nods. “Yup. Ride or die, all around,” she promises, and I know from experience that next time I see them, we’ll all actlike this never happened. Which is exactly what I need, because my teammates mean too much to me to let a little drama push us apart.

“Cool, cool,” I say. “Okay, I’ve really got to head out.”

As I’m collecting the rest of my things, pulling out some money to pay my share, several twenty-dollar bills fall from my wallet onto the table. “Oops, sorry,” I say, scooping them up and shoving them into the side pocket of my purse.

Rae lets out a low whistle. “What’s with all the cash? You take a job at a strip club and forget to tell us?”

“It’s from the swim lessons, loser.” I smirk, glad to see she’s back to bantering with me. “Those Hollyhockers love to tip.”

“Well then, you’d better go on and get your fancy ass back there before you get fired from that gig.” She playfully swats my bottom.

I throw them each an air-kiss before racing toward the door.

When I arrive at the club twenty minutes later, I head straight to the pool. My special group will be coming in each morning before the club’s mini-camp begins. Though mini-camp doesn’t start for another week, tradition mandates that each camp swim group gets a name like “guppies” or “minnows,” with the strongest swimmers being “barracudas” and “sharks.” I decided my early-morning group should have a name too, and I’ve settled on “the Mighty Marlins.”

Just as I finish stacking kickboards near the pool, my first marlin arrives. Elias Rollins is the only child in the group I’ve ever seen before, and also the only one who’s a member of Hollyhock. After I talked to Karyn at the Y, I got Mrs. Rollins’s number from the club directory and called to let her know I’dbe assembling a group of children with autism for “learn to swim” lessons. These kids wouldn’t necessarily progress faster than her son, and surely they wouldn’t taunt him for having autism. I also told her that the program director from STELLAR had agreed to attend the lessons until the kids were adjusted. What she seemed most interested in hearing about was the fact that my teaching assistant was an older boy also on the spectrum. Not even two hours later, she texted to say Elias would give it a try.

In addition to Elias, Karyn chose four other kids from her program for the lessons and has given me the lowdown on each of them. Though I’ve been studying up on how to teach kids with special needs, I’m still nervous.

There’s Matthew Park, a third grader who’s nonverbal—as in, doesn’t speak at all, ever. Karyn promised that he’s very good at following instructions and can generally make his needs known without words.

I’ll also have Johnny Brennan and Rohan Shah, fourth graders who generally travel as a package deal. They can be loud and boisterous at times, Karyn said, but she expects they’ll follow the rules so long as I tell them clearly what to do. The only girl in the group is another fourth grader named Lindy Ortega. When I worried Lindy might not like being the only girl in a group full of boys, Karyn reminded me of the importance of encouraging girls in sports. Properly humbled, I agreed we should give it a try.

The last member of our group is sixteen-year-old Leo Becker, but I have strict instructions not to call him a student. I’m to refer to him as my aide, intern, or assistant so he doesn’t feel embarrassed about learning alongside kids who are so muchyounger than he is. Karyn promised that Leo will genuinely help me with the other kids, but I think she was just trying to ease my concerns.

After Elias’s mom gives him a series of assurances about what time she’ll be back, what snacks she’ll be buying at Wegmans while she’s gone, and the jigsaw puzzle she and Elias will do after she picks him up, Matthew arrives. He’s wearing navy blue swim trunks with orange sharks on them and a matching swim shirt with one bright orange shark in the center. When I bend down to introduce myself, he sidles closer to his mother, and I tell him, “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” But then I remember that people with autism don’t always understand jokes, so I add, “That was a joke.” But then I worry he thinks that means Idobite. “Of course I don’t bite. It was a joke. The whole thing was a silly joke.”

I look back toward the entry to the patio. Karyn was supposed to be here by now.

Next Johnny and Rohan show up, following a man who introduces himself as Rohan’s dad. Johnny’s got a mop of messy brown curls, while Rohan’s jet-black hair is so neat it almost looks slicked into place. The boys are chattering away about some movie, and they barely acknowledge me as they go sit on a bench beside the pool.

As we wait for the other kids, a teenage boy walks through the pool gate. He’s so good-looking that it doesn’t cross my mind he could be my teaching assistant until I notice him beelining for the pool shed with an iPad in his hand. I kick myself for the stupid thought that he’s too handsome to be autistic, as if attractive people can’t have challenges too.

“Are you Leo?” I ask as he reaches me.

The kid doesn’t meet my eyes, looking somewhere over my shoulder as he responds, “Yes, I’m Leo, and you’re McKenna Jamison, the swim teacher, and I’m here for my new job as your teaching assistant to assist you in your teaching.” He glances at my face and instantly shifts his eyes away again. “You look different in your picture on the Meadowbrook webpage. Your skin is bumpier in real life.”

“You could have just said, ‘Yes, it’s nice to meet you.’” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “Oh!” I slam a hand over my mouth, remembering this isn’t just any sixteen-year-old kid. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to criticize you. Although what you said to me felt a little like criticism too, and it made me feel bad.”

“That’s okay,” Leo says. “I can’t always tell how I make people feel. Tell, tell, tell.” He glances up toward the sky, as if he’s trying to remember something. “It sounds like the wordtelevision, but they have different roots.Televisioncomes from Greek, and the wordtellis from Old English.”

Before I can decide how to respond, I remember there are other children present who need my supervision. Turning back toward them, I see our final student approaching. The red-haired little girl is holding hands with a middle-aged woman, and she’s decked out in a pink butterfly-patterned caftan and hot pink sunglasses. After Lindy’s mom introduces herself and hands me a hot-pink backpack, she reminds me about her daughter’s sensitivity to bright light, which Karyn has already mentioned. Then she apologizes, says she’s late for work at the library and has to run.

“Okay, everyone,” I call out with false enthusiasm. “Take a seat on the bench, and let’s talk about the laws of the pool!” I clap my hands together twice.

Matthew, Elias, and Lindy sit down beside Rohan and Johnny. There’s no more room on the bench, so I call Leo to come stand beside me. I notice he’s moving his fingers oddly, making little flicking motions with them, but he moves next to me just as I’ve asked.

“I’m your teacher, McKenna, and this is Leo, my assistant.”