The Art of Not Breathing(40)

“We’ve got a group of guys who want to go snorkeling,” Danny says as I’m finishing my drink. “Our first customers. Can you make sure all the equipment is ready?”

“Is the dive club officially open for business, then?”

“Against all odds, it would seem so,” he says. I wonder if he’s referring to Tay’s disappearing act.

He hands me a sheet of paper with a list of wetsuit and fin sizes written on it. I don’t want to do it—I want to sit here and think about Tay—but I can’t complain because Danny’s being so nice to me, with the new wetsuit and promising to take me on more dives.

“You can come if you want,” he says when I don’t move straightaway.

“I can’t,” I say feebly. “I’ve still got more exams that I should study for.”

“Oh. I forget that you still go to school,” he replies, and it makes me feel very small. I wonder if he does this on purpose or if he’s completely oblivious to how he makes me feel.

I scoff at myself then, because I don’t even know how he makes me feel. One minute excited and like I’m part of something, and the next like I’m something he accidentally trod in.

I go out into the back and make lots of noise as I move crates of equipment around trying to find the right sizes. I had no idea there was so much stuff here. It all looks and smells new. Mick joins me and helps me lift the heaviest crates.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” he says. “You know you’re like the daughter I never had.”

I instantly feel better, and he play-punches me on the arm.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I say.

“Thanks, Elsie. I only wish I’d done this sooner.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I wanted to make sure it was the right thing,” he replies.

“So how did you know it was the right thing?”

Mick laughs as he picks up the last crate. “You ask good questions. In the end, I realized I’d never know unless I tried it. If the answer doesn’t come to you, go and find it.” He winks at me, and I want to hug him.

“You can talk to me anytime, you know,” he says. “Tay’ll be back. Young love, it’s tough.”

“I don’t love him,” I say. “I don’t even like him.”

I want to ask Mick what happened with Danny’s mum, if he loved her, if he’s ever loved anyone. Something tells me he has a sad story.

“My advice to you, Elsie, is go with your heart, not your head, because your head doesn’t know what it wants. It only thinks about the moral high ground. And if your heart isn’t happy, when you try to share it, you’ll make others unhappy too.”

“Wow, that’s deep,” I say.

He throws a wet, smelly towel in my face and then pulls me into a hug and growls in my hair.





4



I TRY NOT TO GIGGLE AS DANNY DEMONSTRATES A SQUAT. We’re on a bit of the beach just down the harbor, heading away from Fortrose. The beach is narrow and hidden from the coastal road by a thick layer of trees. Even though no one can see us, it’s still embarrassing.

“I feel ridiculous,” I say midsquat.

“Are you not taking this seriously?” Danny pushes down on my shoulders, and my thighs feel like they’re about to shred.

The strengthening exercises are torturous. Danny has me doing lunges, squats, star jumps, running up and down the pebbles, lying in the water moving my legs up and down. At the end my legs are like jelly and I can’t even get up.

“We’re going for a dive,” Danny says, zipping up his wetsuit.

“Can’t,” I say. All I want to do is sleep.

“You can,” he says, softly.

He kneels by my head and moves my sweaty hair off my face. His touch sends weird impulses through me.

“The water will wake you up. Come on.”

Suddenly his face is close, his lips inches from mine. Does he know I’ve been thinking about him? Before he has a chance to move in, I sit up, afraid of what might be happening between us. He backs off.





After the dive, when we head back to rinse our suits, Danny touches my shoulder and says, “I think you’re really brave.”

I sidestep so his hand falls away.

“Can we go to the cave again tomorrow?” I ask, thrashing my wetsuit about in the rinsing water, trying not to look at him in case I accidentally grab him and kiss him.

“No,” Danny says quickly. His tone of voice makes me wonder if things are a bit awkward between us now. “The water is really choppy at the moment. It’s too risky.”

“How about the drop-off, then?”

Danny straightens his T-shirt. I think he’s about to tell me it’s too dangerous, too choppy, too risky, but he just clears his throat.

“Soon,” he says.

“It’s nearly the summer holidays,” I remind him. “I can practice every day.”

“Keep up the exercises, then,” he says. “You need steel thighs for the drop-off.”

He smiles thinly and tilts his head. I realize I completely misread his body language earlier. He doesn’t have feelings for me—he just feels sorry for me.