Human Error

BOOK 2 // NINE: Fresh Air

I decided to turn the spotlight back to him. "So you can swim? Properly?"

"I took lessons when I was younger, if that's what you're getting at," he said, with a smile. "But I can't claim to be an athlete, or anything close. It's just enough to get me by."

As if to demonstrate his point, he pushed off the bottom, breaking out into a freestyle stroke in the opposite direction. I watched as his body moved through the water – not perfectly smoothly, spraying droplets into the air, but powering him forward all the same.

It wasn't natural ability – it was practice. And yet it was still more than I was capable of.

Once he'd made it a few dozen metres in that direction, he switched, beginning to make his way back to me. I felt slightly stupid, standing there with my feet planted on the bottom, unable to go anywhere.

"You don't have to look so disheartened," he said once close enough, throwing his head back to flick water from his hair. "It's not the end of the world. Unless of course the actual end of the world involves a giant flood, and the only way to survive is to swim for your life..."

By now, he was close enough to shove in the side, so I took the opportunity to do so. "Stop it."

The sound of his laugh rang out, and in some way, it seemed to cause the same kind of ripples as our bodies in the water: once it had escaped, it hit me over and over again. Even without an exceptional memory, it would've been buried in the back of my mind forever. "Sorry. I thought that was funny."

"It's not funny to make fun of somebody's insecurity," I said jokingly.

"Oh, now it's your insecurity?" He raised an eyebrow. "Because a couple of minutes ago, it seemed like it didn't bother you at all."

"That was before I knew you could do something I couldn't," I said, which only made him laugh harder. "I never want it mentioned again."

"Poor little super-human."

I shot him a look – one that I hope conveyed a message along the lines of not amused. "You can't use that anymore," I reminded him. "Not now we know you fall into the same category."

For the first few seconds, he grinned, and the whole thing still seemed like a joke. However, as the next few moments of silence lapsed between us, the humour trickled away. Left in its place was reality, which somehow felt colder than the water itself.

His face had visibly dropped, all traces of the happiness of seconds before now vanished, and my heart sunk. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head. This time, although he tried to pass it off in the same way, it seemed less about the water in his hair and more about the unwanted thoughts in his mind. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just... still getting used to the idea."

"I know," I said quietly.

"I just keep thinking back," he continued. "Back to everything that's ever happened. Everything I've ever achieved, you know, all the times I've done better than expected... and I keep wondering. Wondering if it was really me that did it, or whether I got some kind of unfair boost. It's like I can't trust anything I've done. I feel guilty, even when I don't know the answer."

I didn't know what to say. It felt like my only real option was to keep quiet.

"Do you ever feel like that?" he asked, and I suddenly found myself under the deep scrutiny of his gaze. "Like you don't trust yourself. Like... you don't know who you really are, because every decision you make is part you and part... something else."