The Art of Not Breathing(51)
“I’m serious, Dad.”
“No, you can’t paint your walls green and silver, Elsie. But you can help me give it a new lick of white.” My father was always painting things white. He came into the room and kissed Mum on the forehead.
“You two are gross,” I said.
After I’d moved all my clothes, I climbed into my new bed and pulled the covers up to my neck. It was cold and drafty in my new room, but I liked it. Jasper’s red eyes rattled next to me as I tried to get comfortable. I nearly didn’t get to sleep with Jasper, because Eddie wanted to have him in his bed. Mum pried Jasper from his hands and said that he had his own toys. I still felt guilty, though. As I snuggled down, I saw a movement under the door and heard a small scratchy sound.
“Eddie the ghost, is that you?”
“Brace,” I heard him say softly. “Emergency, emergency, crash landing,” then something clattered down the stairs, and I heard Dillon yell at him to get back into bed. A door slammed.
“This is illegal!” Dillon shouted. But nobody responded.
14
I PLUG MY MEMORY STICK INTO MY FATHER’S OLD LAPTOP AND sit on my bed scrolling through the PDFs I’ve downloaded from Freedive.com. Eventually, I find what I’m looking for: weighting for deep dives. I write down the information on the back of a leaflet about adopting a porpoise.
If diving over forty meters, you should have neutral buoyancy at ten meters. Check by taking extra weights down to ten meters and gradually offload until you hover.
I feel the jasper quartz in my hand and try to work out how heavy it is. Probably not even a pound. I’m going to need quite a few weights.
I scroll to the bottom of the PDF and read the paragraph about deep-diving ascents. The last few meters of the ascent are the most dangerous, it says. With risk of blackout. But I’m not worried about this—if I get my weighting right, everything will be okay. I note down a few reminders for myself: keep vertical, don’t tilt head, relax.
I feel a wave of determination as I think about how good I will feel when I’m down there, how soft the sand at the bottom will be. I don’t think about how the depth might mess with my mind. I don’t think about the cold and dark.
That night, I dream of rocks and seaweed and Eddie, and I wake up at midnight gasping for air. I’m coming for you, Eddie. I’ll be there soon.
15
THE NEXT DAY, I GO TO THE POOL ALONE AND PRACTICE. I duck dive to the bottom and then dolphin kick back to the surface, and I do this over and over again, using all my power to resurface in one kick until my fingers go wrinkly. My legs feel strong now, thanks to Danny and his incessant squat routine that I’ve been doing every day. I will thank him one day.
When the pool closes, I’m alone in the changing room and take advantage of the huge mirrors. I look at my naked self and notice that my body looks different. I still have large hips. But my stomach is flatter and tighter and my breasts are slightly smaller. They are still not as round and as perfect as Lara’s, but they look nicer, less wobbly, and my hair is so long now that it rests on top of them, just above my nipples. I stare at myself for a long time, seeing what I look like from all angles, what I look like when I hold my breath. When I raise my arms above my head as though I were ascending from the bottom of the ocean, my body sideways to the mirror, I almost look like Scotland’s deepest girl. I’m still in this position when Ailsa Fitzgerald and Lara burst out of one of the dressing rooms, giggling. So Ailsa wasn’t up north for long. They wear matching gold bikinis to show off their slim figures and tiny waists. They must have been in the other pool, or in the Jacuzzi. I wrap my towel around me and turn my back to them, but it’s too late.
“Urgh, she’s so disgusting,” Ailsa whispers to Lara. I cling to the towel with one hand, ready to fight them off if they come near me. Ailsa parades around me, circling like a hyena. Lara watches, her lips tight. When she catches me looking at her, she hangs her head and pushes water into the drain with her foot.
“Are you anorexic like your brother?” Ailsa asks. She runs a bony finger down my cheek. “Have you been starving yourself in a desperate attempt to be pretty? Hmm. Not quite skinny enough yet. Still got flabby thighs. It’s a shame about your brother, though. He used to be quite fit. I saw for myself, you know. And now he’s an ugly mess of skin and bone.”
I pretend I’m not hurt by her comments and hold my head high.
“That’s odd,” I say. “I wonder why you still follow him around.”
“Hey, you said nothing happened between you and Dillon,” Lara says to Ailsa, her tone bitter.
“Relax, dopey. I’m just winding her up,” Ailsa replies. But from the look on both their faces, I’m not sure that she is just winding me up. I’m disappointed in Dillon. But he’s still my brother, and he doesn’t deserve this. These girls are not worth my time and effort. Especially Lara right now. What a bitch. I can’t believe I wasted my blue mascara on her. I start to gather my clothes, but it’s difficult with one hand.
“As if I’d touch him with a barge pole. He’s pathetic,” Ailsa continues. “They both are. Lara, I can’t believe you hung out with either of them. They’re so crazy, they should both be locked up.”