How to Be Brave(33)

“Yes!” Liss yells. “Dive in!”

And I do.

And it’s freezing.

I come up for air. “Holy shit, you guys! It’s like swimming in the Arctic!”

“Well, it is November,” Liss reminds me.

“But it’s supposed to be a heated pool.”

“And it’s almost three in the morning,” Evelyn says. “They’re not going to heat it now.”

“Right.”

“Come on! Let’s play Marco Polo!” Liss yells, and closes her eyes. “I’ll go first! Marco!”

Evelyn and I rush away from her, and I get caught first. We swim and play like that for what feels like hours. We do somersaults and backflips and handstands in the water (good practice for #2). Evelyn and Liss take turns doing cannonballs and jackknives, and after a while, I forget that I’m naked or even that they’re naked. It’s just so much fun being here in the middle of the night with my two closest friends (or rather, my only two friends), swimming a good five hundred feet in the air with all of the city below.

And then we hear a rustling at the door.

“Oh f*ck!” Evelyn yells. We race toward the edge of the pool. I jump out and throw on my robe right before the door opens and a security guard walks in.

I look over at Evelyn, who’s dressed and laughing, and Liss, who’s naked and fumbling with her robe.

“Hey!” the guard yells. He’s old, maybe nearing eighty. “What are you girls doing up here?”

“Hi, Officer!” Evelyn sputters through her laughter.

“He’s not a cop,” Liss mutters.

Close enough, I think. Son of a bitch. Now we’re in trouble.

“We were just swimming, is all!” Evelyn says this all flirty and giggly.

“You are not supposed to be here at this time of night, especially doing whatever it is I know you were doing.” He adjusts his glasses, probably to see if he can catch a view of Liss, who’s still tying up her robe. Ugh. Dirty old man.

Then he puts a finger up. “You girls wait here while I go get the police!” And miraculously, he turns right back around and heads out the door.

“Wait? What?” Evelyn laughs. “Did I just hallucinate that?”

“Um, no,” Liss says.

“Where’s he going?”

I’m shivering and my heart is beating a million miles a minute. “I thought you said there was no security guard at night!”

Evelyn shrugs. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Liss says.

We count to sixty seconds to let Mr. Buzzkill get in the elevator, and then we sneak out the stairwell.

We have to run down twenty-eight flights of stairs, dripping wet and naked under our robes. I can feel my thighs chafing together, and I know that Liss and Evelyn don’t have this problem. They’re giggling in unison, but I’m utterly pissed.

But then Liss turns back to me and whispers, “When we get back, you can cross off number five!”

And my mind turns to this day—this whole entire, perfectly wonderful day. To the yoga and the dancing and swimming naked in the middle of the night.

I scurry down the stairwell behind them, smiling all the way.





9

The hallway’s buzzing. Everyone’s on a post-Thanksgiving, pre–winter break high. There’s only three weeks of classes left, which makes everyone freak out, about their grades or their college applications or their ACT scores. The only thing I’m freaking out about right now is seeing Daniel again and figuring out the rain check situation.

But I haven’t seen him all day. I run to Marquez’s class, taking the steps two by two. I’m out of breath when I get to the door. I peek inside, but Daniel’s not there yet, so I slide into my desk and try to calm myself down.

Play it cool, Georgia.

Everyone is deep in conversation around me. I play with my phone and pretend to be busy. The bell rings. I look up at the door. No Daniel.

“Okay, people!” Marquez yells. “Let’s get started!”

Damn it. Where is he?

No one listens to Marquez, so he tries again. “The bell has rung,” he yells. “Everyone take a seat!” No one pays attention to him. He’s lost all control. They all go right on talking.

And then Daniel runs in. He’s about to head to his seat, but instead he looks straight at me and comes my way. My heart is in my throat. It’s as though I’m still running up those steps.

“Are you going to Avery’s party?”

“Yes!” I say. “I’ll be there!” I feel like I’m yelling. I feel like I’m not playing it cool at all.

But he’s so nice. “Good!” he says. And then he puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it tight. “I want to hang out!”

I’m melting. His hand feels so good. I’m about to say that I want to hang out, too, when Marquez starts flipping the lights on and off like we’re in the third grade. “People!” he yells. “Have a seat already!”

“Oops!” Daniel laughs. He lets go of my shoulder and runs to his desk. Everyone quiets down.

“If we do not begin at precisely two twenty-seven P.M.,” Marquez intones, “the administration is going to come in here and strip me of my tenure!” He’s not really mad at us—he just likes being the center of attention and ruining my chances of connecting with hot guys.