Prepsworth Academy

Chapter 27 - "Love is a dangerous thing."

Lily

When I'd walked away from Millie, my plan had been to swim kilometre after kilometre and forget everything that had occurred, but my afternoon ended up taking a very different turn.

I'd almost ran across the gardens towards the steps of one the more secluded and often, more empty pools, the whole time regretting arguing with Millie. As I nimbly ran down the mossy stone steps, I began unzipping my school bag, and getting out my swimsuit. I'd always packed it, just in case I had forgotten a swim meet or wanted to practice without going back to the dorm. I reached the bottom of the steps and walked into the dark, cavernous space, taking a moment to admire the rock walls and roof, which had been carved out to create cave-like pool, similar to underwater natural springs, save for the carefully maintained water and luxurious changing rooms.

I was walking to the changing rooms, the rock floor cold and slippery against my feet when I saw her. Out of the corner of my eye. she was a nothing more than a dark cloud in the water, but, as I stepped closer, I could make out her features.. Her long, dark hair floated up towards the surface of the water and her eyes were closed, her mouth crinkled downwards. Her uniform floated around her like a ballgown, clogged with water. I watched, helpless as Elle floated in the deep blue waters of the pool, her lungs doubtlessly void of air. There was a moment of shock, burning through my head, before I blinked and was stirred to action.

I ran forward and dived into the long pool effortlessly, swimming frantically towards her, cutting through the water swiftly and neatly, despite my utter panic and terror. I was only ten metres away when she opened her eyes. I was close enough to see the sheer fear and confusion written across her face. She twisted blindly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and her arms gripped her rib cage tightly., like she was trying to curl in on herself I swam the remaining distance to her and swam down, trying to reach her in the depths of the pool. I kicked downward, fighting to get to the bottom of the deep pool and trying to control the panic that had consumed me.. I finally got hold of her arms and kicked upwards, wanting the damp smell of the pool to fill my lungs. Elle struggled against me, turning from a dead weight to kicking and thrashing around. She slipped out of my grip for a moment, sinking towards the bottom. I fought the urge to go to the surface and suck in another breath and kicked down again, my lungs bursting and head swimming. I gripped her arms so tightly that my knuckles turned white and kicked ferociously towards the surface. What if I was too late? I kicked faster until finally I could arch my head and eagerly breathe, gulping long breaths of air. Away from the darkness from the water my mind was filled with a thousand questions. What was Elle doing in there? Was it to do with the diary? Why had she gone here? But Elle had gone limp again and I pulled her to the side of the pool, my arms aching and throat sore. I heaved Elle onto the edge of the pool, before pushing myself out of the water as I struggled to remember CPR. I'd learnt it off by heart but of course, in the one moment I needed it, I forgot it. I took a deep breath and cleared my head, thinking hard. It only took a second for me to remember and I pushed down hard on Elle's chest, locking my elbows and preparing for the impact.. Nothing happened. I continued, again and again and again. My mind was suddenly void of thoughts once more, void of anything but this robotic rhythm and the need to save Elle. I was vaguely aware of rushed footsteps, even cries of fear but I ignored them. It was unimportant. I was also aware of an audience and murmured instructions. I ignored those too. All I focused on was saving Elle's life. My arms ached with the effort and I was trembling, but, after what seemed like hours, Elle drew in a gasping breath and winced, before opening her eyes.I felt like crying of joy, screaming and pumping my fist in the air like I used to do after winning a big game, until Elle whispered one word;

"Adelaide!" and fell back, unconscious.

Dylan

"Adelaide?" I asked, worried. Lily nodded, her tan face abnormally pale. I froze.

"Of course, of course!" I exclaimed angrily. Why hadn't I seen this earlier? It all came together, every piece of information falling painfully into place. Lily frowned, confused.

"Who's Adelaide and what does she have to do with anything?" Lily asked, keeping her voice low. I turned to face Lily.

"Adelaide –" I paused, conflicted upon how much to tell Lily. It wasn't my secret, but it was close enough to dredge up swirling, painful memories, each like a knife in my heart. Besides, I didn't know anyone who knew what happened except for Elle and her parents. Even I didn't know the whole story.. I turned to see the figure, shrouded by a heavy blanket and a tumbling waterfall of dark hair, obscuring her face. It wasn't Elle, at least, not the Elle I knew. This was someone broken and hurt who looked ahead with unseeing eyes and blank features, void of any emotion. I took a deep breath, dread filling my stomach.

"Adelaide..." I began but was cut off by a quiet yet firm voice.

"Adelaide is the name of Elle's sister." I turned in shock to see Amy clutching Rose's diary, Jake in tow.

"How, how do you know that?" I murmured, stumbling over my words in shock. Amy smiled bitterly.

"We missed a page." She said, her voice edged with sadness.

"What are you talking about, how could Rose's diary have anything to do with –"I began, my voice rising as I grew more and more frustrated and panicked. I was about to yell when I was cut off, not by Amy's voice but by a simple, swift movement. Amy opened Rose's diary to the first page, her face set in a grim line. I was wrong, so wrong. We had all been wrong. And stupid. Because it was impossible to miss the curved, looping words spread across the front page. The words that read:

"Adelaide's journal"

Elle

I stared at the front page of the beautiful, tragic diary. Adelaide...it was her diary. Those pain-filled words, they were her words. So many words filled my head and bounced around my skull, begging to pour out of my mouth in a stream of curses and screams and pain. But I stayed silent. Some part of me felt like it was easier that way. I barely noticed the tears dripping down my cheeks. And, for the first time in ages my head felt clear, like everything was so simple. It sounds strange, but all of the drama that had been plaguing me, and them had disappeared. The blurry film that had covered everyone disappeared. , along with all of my judgements and assumptions. Everything was so sharp, the truth breaking through my haze. I looked at the people spread out in front of me like they were strangers, like I could see into their souls. In that moment of clarity, I didn't know them, didn't know their stories, their faces. They were unknown to me, but impossibly easy to read.

I looked up and saw a dreamer, held up by morals and hope, however misplaced they were, along with an inner strength that would surprise everyone. Next to her I saw a scared, hurt boy trying to mask his emotions with revenge and cruelty, like a weak imitation of someone he had spent so many years trying to copy . I looked across and saw a hard-working girl, trying hard to find a place in the world that wasn't quite ready to accept her like they'd accepted others. . My gaze drifted across to the last person there. I couldn't make out the expression on his face. He seemed uncertain and unable to keep still, restlessly shifting from one foot to the other. He cared, that I was sure of. But why? I couldn't see him as a stranger, not when there was so much unsaid between us, so much left hanging in the air. I searched through memories, trying to figure him out. until I pieced together the connection between us. Between our families. Adelaide and... Eliza, that was her name. His sister, the twin to mine. Did he care when she left? When her personality dissipated? Was that why he changed, became reckless and callous? Because he cared?

"Love is a dangerous thing." A voice warned, somewhere my head. It was right. I had been falling for him, helplessly falling for him. And no matter what you might think, no matter how much you may scoff; that was why I decided to break my own heart. Because I cared about him. And because he still hadn't learnt his lesson. So I stared at him, my friend, my heart, my opposite. And then I blinked, and he became just another stranger.