Chapter 3

GRACE

TEN YEARS AGO

The boy my dad had brought home earlier that morning was acting weird.

It wasn’t the first time my parents had fostered kids. They usually fostered younger kids, though. This time, they brought home a boy who they said was only two years older than me, but he looked way older than that.

Dad said his name was Brady. When I’d introduced myself, Brady had just looked at my outstretched hand like I’d tried to give him a bomb.

Now, I watched him from my bedroom window on the second floor. Maybe because he seemed so mysterious. Or maybe because, even at twelve, I found something about him fascinating.

My bedroom overlooked the back of the house, where our pool was, where Brady was now. Normally, Ben and I would be swimming all day, every day, during the summer, but Ben was too busy to hang out with me anymore.

And I wasn’t about to wear my swimsuit around this new boy. The mere thought made me blush in humiliation.

Brady was big for his age. When Dad had said he was fourteen, I’d been shocked. He looked so much older!

“He’s never lived with a family longer than six months,” Dad had said to me quietly when Brady was unpacking in his new bedroom. “So he might not know how to act around us.”

Brady had stayed in his room the entire morning. I’d listened outside his door until Ben had told me to stop being a pest.

Now, Brady sat at the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, but that was it. After a few minutes, I was about to go back to reading my book when Brady started wading into the water.

Then he kept dipping his head down, like he wanted to go for a swim. But then he’d stand back up. He kept doing this. Was it some strange exercise routine?

Dad had said Brady might act weirdly around us. But as far as Brady knew, nobody was watching him.

When Brady bent down one last time, hesitated, and then slapped the water like it’d personally offended him, I jumped. I must’ve made a noise because somehow Brady turned to see me sitting in my window. He scowled up at me and then pointed at me, yelling, “Stop staring at me!”

I was used to Ben, so boys getting annoyed with me wasn’t new for me. I opened the window and yelled back, “I’m coming down!”

I changed into my swimsuit—a boring blue one-piece—and hurried to the pool. Brady sat on the edge again, and he didn’t even acknowledge me when I sat beside him.

“Why were you watching me?” he finally asked.

I folded my arms around my knees. “I wasn’t watching you for that long,” I said.

“Bullshit. I saw you.”

I stared at him. “You knew I was watching you?”

“It’s not like you were trying to keep hidden,” he said mockingly.

“You know, it’s not nice, how you’re talking to me.” I lifted my chin. “And this is my house.”

Something dark crossed Brady’s expression. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

I waited for him to explain himself, but I could tell he wasn’t going to unless I prodded him.

“Did you want to go swimming?” I asked.

He snorted. “I don’t even have swim trunks.”

“But you were in the water.”

“Yeah, so?” At my look, he sighed. “Fine. I was trying to swim.”

“Trying?”

“Yeah, trying. Because I don’t know how to fucking swim.”

I flinched at his swearing. Even Ben wasn’t brave enough to say the f-word around our parents. Dad would kill him.

“You shouldn’t say that word,” I admonished.

“What, fuck ? Seriously?”

“You’ll get in trouble. My parents won’t like it.”

“If they try to hit me, I’ll just hit them back.” He cracked his knuckles.

I gaped at him. “My parents would never hit you!” I was outraged at the mere suggestion. “They aren’t like that.”

Brady laughed at me, confusing me entirely. “I’ve been in enough homes to know that’s bullshit.”

“They aren’t like that.”

I could tell Brady didn’t believe me. It made me feel sad for him. Had his other foster parents hit him? Did he expect that now, no matter where he went?

“You said you couldn’t swim,” I said.

“Yeah. So?”

I felt my cheeks heat but pushed through to reply, “I can teach you.”

Brady didn’t say anything. I had a feeling he was going to tell me to go to hell, but he didn’t. He just stared off into the distance, almost like he hadn’t even heard me.

“You don’t have to do that,” he mumbled.

He wouldn’t look at me. I didn’t know why. But even though he was a big kid and seemed intimidating, I had a feeling it was all for show. I moved into the water until I was standing waist-deep.

“Come on. I’ll show you how to float,” I said.

To my surprise, he agreed. He wore shorts and a T-shirt, but he didn’t take off his shirt.

“Uh, you shouldn’t wear your shirt,” I said, wanting to die.

“What? Why?”

“I mean, you won’t drown, but the fewer clothes, the safer it is. More clothes mean you’ll get dragged down easier.”

I remembered my swim instructor telling me and the rest of my class that we shouldn’t jump into the water fully clothed. We especially shouldn’t do it wearing shoes.

“But if you do fall into water wearing street clothes and shoes,” she’d said, “there are ways to keep yourself safe so you can get out of the water.”

Brady finally took off his shirt. I couldn’t help but stare at him. He had a sprinkling of hair on his chest already. How was this boy only fourteen? I’d never seen another boy his age look like him.

He was tan, too, and muscular. He also had bruises on his ribs that I wanted to ask him about, but I bit my tongue just in time.

Brady then went to the last step and just stood there, the water up only to his knees.

“Come on. You can’t float in the shallow end,” I said.

“Why not? It’s all water.”

I snorted. “Fine. Here, watch me.”

I’d taken swimming lessons since I was little. I’d even swum a few times in swim meets, although I’d gotten bored with the sport after a few years. I preferred to read inside most days.

But the muscle memory remained. I began floating on my back, staring at the bright-blue sky. There was nothing like the blue sky of the desert. The world was always bright and illuminated here—no rain, no clouds, no cold.

“Come on.” I waved Brady over.

He finally waded toward me. When his arm brushed me, I nearly came out of my skin. I couldn’t look at him as he tried to start floating.

I had to help him the first few tries. He got frustrated easily, and I didn’t know how I managed to keep him from stomping inside after his third attempt resulted in him kicking and flailing.

“Don’t! You’ll make it worse,” I said.

“This is stupid,” Brady just kept saying.

But on the fourth try, he floated. I could tell he was uncomfortable, but he didn’t say as much.

After that, he let me show him how to dog paddle. He was better at that, but when his mouth dipped below the water, he burst upward and returned to the steps.

“That’s enough,” he said, breathing hard.

I went to stand next to him. “Good job. You’ll get better the more you practice.”

After we got out of the pool, Brady’s gaze took in my wet, swimsuit-clad body, and I wanted to melt into the ground. I instantly regretted doing this.

He probably thought I looked like a silly, chubby baby. I hadn’t even gotten my period yet like some of the other girls in my grade. People tended to think I was younger than I was, and maybe Brady did, too.

“I’ll see you later,” I said and hurried inside, not caring I was dripping water throughout the house as I ran upstairs.

That evening, I braided my hair and put on some lip gloss and eye shadow. I knew I couldn’t put on too much or Dad would freak out. I was almost late to dinner. By the time I came downstairs, everyone sat at the table, waiting for me.

Brady didn’t even look my way. Ben stared at me, his forehead creased like he didn’t recognize me.

“You look nice,” Mom said as I sat down. “Are you wearing makeup?”

“Makeup? Since when do you own any makeup?” Dad responded.

I turned bright red. “Dad ...”

“She’s too young for that kind of thing,” Dad kept saying to Mom. “Did you buy her some?”

“Honey, she got some in her stocking for Christmas. It’s just for fun.” Mom looked over at me. “You look very pretty, sweetheart.”

I felt even more embarrassed at my mom’s kindness. I wished I’d never put on the stupid stuff. And it wasn’t like Brady was even paying attention to me.

“You look weird,” said Ben as he leaned closer toward me. “Babies don’t wear makeup.”

I was close to crying when Dad told Ben to knock it off. Ben shrugged, unfazed.

What was worse was that Brady ignored me the entire dinner. I wanted to tell everyone about me teaching him to swim, but I bit my tongue. I could tell Brady didn’t want to talk about it.

Was he embarrassed he’d let a girl help him? Or worse, was he just embarrassed of me in general?

I probably looked like an idiot, with my hair all braided and with all this makeup on. I swiped at a tear, but I refused to let any boy see me cry.

I went straight to my room after dinner, despite Mom trying to get me to stay downstairs to watch TV. I lied and said I wanted to read my book.

Instead, I flopped onto my bed and hugged my pillow close.

Boys are stupid, I reminded myself. Don’t let them ruin everything.

I must’ve dozed off, because when I woke up, it was almost dark outside. I heard someone open a door and then walk down the hallway. I usually could tell the difference between my family members’ footsteps. Mom was quick and light; Dad was slow and heavy; Ben was a combination of them both.

But these footsteps ... they sounded like somebody didn’t want to be noticed.

I waited but didn’t hear anything else. I eventually went to my window that faced the part of the yard where our tree house was located. I watched as Brady tried to climb the tree and then fell on his butt.

I stifled a giggle. Didn’t he know there was a ladder you could pull down? I watched as he tried a second time and failed.

When I approached him at the tree, Brady was wiping dirt off his backside.

“Why do you keep following me around?” he said, annoyed.

“You know there’s a ladder, right?”

He just stared at me. I reached up and pulled said ladder down. It clicked when it reached the ground.

“Huh.” Brady shook his head. “I didn’t see it.”

“It’s dark out.” I wanted to make sure he didn’t feel embarrassed.

He didn’t protest when I climbed up after him into the tree house. He didn’t say much, either. We sat in silence, listening to the sounds of twilight.

“I come up here to write,” I said. “In my journal.”

Brady looked around. “Is your journal in here?”

I laughed. “No way. Ben would read it if he could. And I’d never let him.”

Brady just grunted.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” I asked quietly.

Brady, to my surprise, shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s your tree house after all.”

“I’m not a scaredy-cat,” Brady said suddenly. “About swimming, I mean.”

I blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I mean, I’m not afraid of the water. Not exactly. But every time I try to learn how to swim, I think about how my mom’s boyfriend threw me into the ocean. A riptide caught me, and I thought I was gonna drown.”

“Your mom’s boyfriend threw you?” I was horrified. “How old were you?”

“Uh, three? Four?”

“What!”

Brady shrugged. “I mean, it’s whatever. I didn’t die. But ever since then, I can only take showers. I don’t swim.”

“Did anyone try to help you?”

Brady was incredulous. “What, like Rick? Rick was laughing when I got to shore. My mom was drunk, passed out somewhere. Rick told me he’d never seen anything funnier.”

I felt so sad for Brady right then. Had no one ever protected him? Loved him? No wonder he didn’t know how to swim.

“Well, if you keep practicing, that won’t happen to you again,” I said.

“We can’t practice again. Your dad told me to leave you alone.” Brady grimaced. “You should probably leave before we get in trouble.”

My dad had told Brady to leave me alone? I was outraged. He didn’t even know Brady!

“That’s stupid,” I said. “And besides, my dad is gone by eight o’clock Monday through Friday. Tomorrow’s Friday, so we can keep swimming after my dad is gone.”

Brady just stared at me; then he let out a laugh. “Seriously? You don’t care about getting into trouble?”

“I wouldn’t get into trouble. You would.”

That made Brady’s expression close. “Right.”

“But I’d tell Dad to leave you alone. Anyway, we’re not doing anything wrong. I’m just teaching you how to swim.”

Brady smiled at me, which made me blush and feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“You know, you’re not as annoying as I thought you’d be,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks. I don’t get why you’d think I was, anyway.”

“Because pretty girls are always a pain in the ass.”

The butterflies in my stomach turned into an entire flock. I didn’t know what to say to that. And apparently Brady didn’t know what to say, either.

When I returned to bed, I couldn’t sleep. I stared up at the ceiling, my heart full, determined not to let anyone stop me from being around a boy like Brady Carmichael.