Leaving Mara and her sorority sisters, I push around the east corner of the courtyard by an improv group and a guy handing out flyers advertising the student radio station. That’s when I see the sign. It’s flat and rectangular—propped up on an easel. Across the top, thick blue letters declare: SWIM FOR LIFE.
“Would you like to sign up to support the women’s swim team for our annual Swim For Life Relay? We’re raising money for Muscular Dystrophy.”
I whirl toward the sound of the voice, nearly toppling over a girl. God. What is with me today? My hands go out to steady her. “Oh—I’m so sorry. No, I’m—oh, uh…”
My stomach does a backflip and I have to press my fingers to my eyelids to hold on to my precarious balance. The girl standing in front me is tall with long, muscular legs, deep caramel skin, unruly black hair, and familiar brown eyes.
Noelle Melker is a year older than me. We swam together back in high school and had one of those competitive relationships that morphed into a muted friendship after too many hours cramped on the team bus together.
I watch as shock loosens her lower jaw. “Oh my God. Aimee?”
“Hi Noelle.” My gaze darts around nervously. Please don’t let anyone else be nearby. “What are you doing here?”
Noelle is looking at me like ten noses have sprouted up on my face. “What am I doing here? The swim team is putting on a fundraiser and I drew the short straw so I’m stuck at the sign-up table today.”
“Oh,” I say stupidly. “Well, it’s great to see you. It’s been a long time, huh?”
“I think that’s the understatement of the century.” She snorts and shakes her head. “It was like you fell off the face of the earth. You disconnected your cell phone number and your Facebook account right after Ji—after school let out, and none of us heard a word from you again. I mean, what happened to you?”
A stream of air leaks out of my lungs and I realize that I’ve been holding my breath. My eyes drop to the ground. “You know what happened, Noelle.”
Noelle makes a strange sound from deep in her throat. “Of course I know what happened, but…” She pinches her forehead and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she tries not to stare at the scar on my neck. “Where have you been all this time? Sorry… I just can’t believe that you’re here.”
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Honestly? If it makes you feel better, I sort of can’t believe that I’m here either.”
“I did try to get in touch with you. Your parents and your sister wouldn’t tell anybody anything. By January, a few of us were convinced that you’d been recruited by the CIA to be the youngest operative or something.”
Despite my anxiety, I chuckle. “Uh, not quite.”
“The point,” she says, flicking her wrist and widening her milk chocolate eyes at me, “is that no one knew where you went so we were forced to invent ridiculous fantasies about your life.”
“I hate to be a complete letdown, but I’m sure that the reality is less exciting than whatever your imagination came up with.” I shrug my shoulders. “My grandparents live in Portland and I went to live with them for my senior year.”
“Okay.” She blinks. “Not that I’m complaining, but why did you decide to come back?”
I think about telling Noelle the truth—all the complicated things about myself that take up space and fill the dark corners of my brain. I could try to describe how lonely and sad I was in Portland. I might even try to explain how, despite everything it took from me, I missed the blue-green Florida water. Or how I dreamed about the way that the powdery white sand felt squishing up between my toes. If I were stronger, I’d tell Noelle about the night back in June when I hit rock bottom, and how I woke up in the morning feeling lucky to be alive.
What would she say to that? Would she understand?
Sighing and catching the ends of my hair between my fingers, I decide to stick with the well-rehearsed lie that my mother came up with. Just tell anyone that asks how you hated the awful Oregon weather. This is Florida, the Sunshine State. Everyone will understand. “I guess that I just got sick of the cloudy weather and the cold.”
Noelle chuckles in disbelief. “That’s it?”
“Well, no… That’s not all of it, but it’s the shortened version and the rest can wait while you tell me how you’ve been. You look great by the way.”
“Girl, you’re too sweet,” she says, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly.
Just then, I feel a presence at my back. I turn and my eyes collide with tarnished green irises so intense and electrifying that the air around me seems to quiver and reshape itself. Recognition only takes another heartbeat, and when it arrives, it buzzes through me with such force that my eyes go in and out of focus and I have to lock my legs so that I don’t tip over.