"Mya," she gasped. She was lying on her stomach on the pool deck. With both arms around my back, she still pressed me toward her, into the hard cement of the pool. "Oh God, Mya, are you okay?"
Other than the fact that she was lying down in a public place, she probably looked normal to the other people there. She looked like the other moms in their track suits, only with a better figure. But I knew the difference. Normally she would have done herself up gorgeously. No track suit, no way. Trendy jeans with an age-appropriate top. Her makeup would have been immaculate. She was wearing none. Her long blond hair was caught in a careless ponytail. Then I noticed something strange in her bangs, something I'd never seen before on her. Gray roots.
"Breathe," she said. Her grip tightened around me. The sinews in her arms flexed. "Let me hear you breathe."
"Mom, I'm fine." Between gasps I said this quietly, like maybe if I kept it down, nobody would notice my insane mother lying on the pool deck and clinging to me. The girl from San Antonio and the girl from Fort Worth each had an elbow up on the wall now, treading water and watching us. "Mom, let me get out."
She released me around the back but kept one hand firmly around my wrist and pulled me. I crawled one-handed onto the pool deck and stood to exactly her height. Coach was right behind her, questioning me with his eyes. Behind him was a ref--he must have stopped the race, but I hadn't heard the whistle. All the swimmers held on the wall and looked up at us. All three swim teams huddled together in three bundles of bathing suits in three different colors, folding their arms against a sudden wind. All the people in the stands looked over at us. Zack whispered to Stephanie. Dade was on the phone.
I told Coach, "I'll take care of it." I told the ref, "I forfeit, whatever, sorry." Then I put my arm around my mom's waist, wetting her but I doubt she noticed, and steered her out the gate to the front of the school. I'm sure we looked like an odd promenade because she still hadn't let go my wrist. Behind us the whispers of the crowd swelled. My eyes stung with tears.
The second the gate closed and the crows couldn't see us, I jerked my wrist out of her hand and whirled to face her. "What the fuck are you doing?" She blinked and actually took a step back. "I had a dream you were drowning."
I put my hands on my hips. "They let you out of a locked mental ward because you had a bad dream?"
She cleared her throat. "I guess I escaped."
"You escaped from the mental hospital?" My voice echoed across the high school parking lot, over the cars and a few buses gather around the pool entrance.
She shrugged. "It wasn't brain surgery."
"It's a forty-five minute drive. How did you get over her from fucking Dallas?"
This time she didn't even blink at the F-word, which was a bad sign. "I took a taxi."
I ran my hands back through my hair, or meant to, and stopped when I felt nothing but a rubber swim cap and goggles. "What am I going to do with you?" I asked, exactly what she'd asked me once in seventh grade when she caught me trying to run out the door to meet Mckenzie and Lily at the beach wearing argyle knee socks with my gym shorts. What did I do now? I looked out over the parking lot and watched a police car cruise toward us.
Officer Elks to my rescue again. He parked at the curb right next to us and got out. "Hey there, Counselor." he called.
"Hi, Cody," she said without smiling.
He strolled over and joined us like we were three old friends who'd run into each other at the homecoming parade. "I hear they're worried about you at the hospital. I can drive you back, or"--he glanced over at me so briefly, then focused on my mom again--"Mya can take you."
YOU ARE READING
Remember When **Under MAJOR Editing**
Teen FictionThere's a lot Mya would like to forget. Like how her father has knocked up his 22-year-old girlfriend. Like Mya's fear that the whole town will find out about her mom's nervous breakdown. Like the darkly handsome bad boy, Dade, taunting her school...
