Match Your Weakness With A Name

Twenty-Two?

It's a long afternoon full of stupid people and prank callers. Jenna and I are finally packing up when I hear a loud crunch outside.

Not paying much attention to it, I put away another few stacks of paper when Jenna peers out the window. "Um, someone hopped the fence a few minutes ago, it looks like. I'll be back."

I don't think much of it and say "Have fun." It's probably just a teenager going to vandalize some property.

The phone rings. I sigh and pick it up.

"Hi, is this the pool?" It's a bored female voice, probably a mom calling for a birthday party.

"Yes, this is the Houston Community Pool, how can we help you?" I ask as I grope the reception desk for the rulebook. 

"Yeah, can I reserve the pool for Saturday afternoon from one to five? It's my son's fourth birthday party."

"I'm sorry," I begin, flicking to the right page in the rulebook, "but we can't host private events at this pool."

There is a scream. It's not from the mom. It's from outside. It's Jenna. My heart leaps into my throat and I stand, rushing for the window.

The mom has said something, and it takes a moment for me to remember it was a plea. "That's just our policy," I say absently, searching the darkness outside for Jenna.

"I want to speak to the manager."

Jenna is by the diving board, preparing to jump into the pool. In the lamplight her face is a mask of total fear, so unlike her normal face it's scary. There's someone at the bottom, that's the only thing that could make Jenna, of all people, jump into a pool fully clothed.

"Did you hear me?"

"The manager is busy right now, sorry," I sputter as Jenna disappears below the pool's surface.

"I'll wait," says the mom, with the exasperated quality of a condescending schoolteacher.

"I'm-I'm putting you on hold," I say.

"Don't you dare put me on hold until I have spoken to your manager!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am-"

"No, you are staying on this line!"

Derek bursts through the locker room door, a float thing in hand, Ryan close behind. Why is Ryan here? They stop by the diving board, staring anxiously into the water.

"Where is the manager?"

"I told you she's busy," I say.

Jenna's head pops up above the surface. Derek kneels by the pool and sticks his hands into the water, grabbing at something the diving board blocks from my view.

"Look, ma'am-"

"No, I don't care what she's doing, you can bring her out."

"I really can't," I say as Derek heaves a pair of legs onto the pool deck.

Close behind him, Jenna pushes the rest of the person up and pulls herself out of the water with one fluid motion. Ryan has his cell phone out, Derek's hands are on the person's chest, and the mom is yelling at me.

I bite my lip and slam the phone down.

The mom and her kid's birthday party can wait, I decide as I dart outside. I take off my sweater while walking, in case Jenna or someone needs it, and stop dead in my tracks when I see the kid being rescued.

I know that green sweater.

"Geoff, what are you doing?" shouts Derek. "Come on!"

I clear my head and run to them, minding the patches of water on the deck. Now that I'm closer, I can hear what Ryan's saying. He's obviously talking to a 911 operator. My heart skips a beat. "What can I do?"

"I dunno," says Derek as I take a knee next to Awsten.

"Fuck you!" belts Jenna, more upset than I've seen her. "Geoff, take the poor kid's pulse."

"Alright," says Derek, and I nod and take Awsten's hand.

His fingers are cold, his wrists are cold, his blood is cold, everything is cold. My breath catches in my throat, and I shove my own consciousness away and blindly press two fingers onto the vein just below his palm.

I feel his skin, I feel the bones of his wrist, I feel the edge of a tendon. I don't feel a pulse.

Panicking, I move my fingers to the other side of his wrist. For a moment I feel something-a twitch, maybe the beginnings of a beat-but it fades as soon as it comes. I push up his dripping wet sleeve and slide my hand up to his elbow, pressing down, desperately searching for a sign of life. All is still. There's nothing.

My fingers come away from his arm bloody.

I take a harder look at him and instantly notice the fresh cuts along his wrist, all the way to his elbow.

He did this on purpose.

Derek continues to do CPR on Aws, and I try his other wrist. It's as motionless as the first one. I move my fingers up his entire arm, praying to find something there.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.