It seemed as if the entire pool had fallen in silence, every person frozen, not even an intake of breath. Most gaped in disbelief, some fled, Tess screamed. And before I could comprehend the whole holy-crap-she's-really-drowning thing, I was already in the water, swimming down to the sinking, multi-coloured Flo.
I wasn't sure if it was just the water, but I could swear I could still see her struggling, hands clawing around the water as if there were deadly tendrils wrapping around her body. However, when I reached her, she seemed to be unconscious so I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulled her limp body against mine and kicked off the bottom of the pool, trying to swim my way up. But whatever material Flo's dress was made out of, it was sucking up a hell of a lot of water and slowing us down.
So, feeling awkward and panicked, I started pulling off her dress. I kept mentally apologising to Flo for accidentally touching her in inappropriate places in my struggling attempt to undress her. My heart was hammering for a million different reasons. I hardly even knew Flora Jefferson, yet there I was [a] Undressing her and [b] Touching her inappropriately while unconscious.
But once the material had fallen off, I was able to easily pull her out of the water. Tess had run for a lifeguard while Quinton and I gently placed her on the cement. Then, both of us, completely clueless, turned to look at each other, searching for some kind of guidance. Before Quinton could open his mouth and share his knowledge, I knelt down beside Flo and pressed my fingers against her neck. The beating wasn't sturdy, but it was definitely there.
We had attracted quite a crowd now, people of all ages circling around the scene and whispering things. I was starting to panic. Should I wait for help? Take a shot at this whole CPR thing? What if I did something wrong? The crowd had become thick by then and I couldn't see past them to know whether the lifeguards were on their way or not. So, I took the plunge and got straight into action.
I was starting to regret not paying attention in Health class where we watched that poorly documented video of first aid skills. At the time, I was completely confident that I could perform the techniques if I ever came to a situation of need, but now that I was actually in one, I realised how clueless I was.
Deciding that if I didn't do something fast, Flo would be nothing but a stunning, empty exterior in polka-dot lingerie. I placed my hands against her chest and started doing compressions. All while doing it, I was still mentally apologising for pressing my palms against her chest. I mean, we were at a nickname basis and my hands had already explored places they shouldn't have explored. I shook my head and concentrated. Tipping her head back, pinching her nose and tilting her chin so I could get better access to her lips, I lowered my mouth to hers and blew. It felt weird and awkward, especially with everyone watching.
When I leaned back, she stayed still and for a horrifying three seconds, I thought she was dead. Now, I can watch the most graphic and violent movies without feeling sick. I can go through the most disgusting and repulsive video footage without feeling light headed. I can be notified about the saddest and most emotional tragic deaths and not shed a single tear. But seeing Flo there, completely unresponsive, made me feel like I was going to pass out. I didn't want to be the one who couldn't save her, the one who had to go to her parents and inform them that their daughter had died. I didn't want to be all over the media as a local underdog who attempted CPR but failed.
Just as I was contemplating moving to Alaska and turning into a penguin, Flo coughed. I, along with everyone else, leaned forward in anticipation as she coughed again. I scrambled closer and hovered over her, watching as a shaky hand reached over her mouth as she spluttered involuntarily.
"Move it! Make room!"
A lifeguard came pushing through the crowd, yelling at spectators to clear a path. His words were muffled by the whistle wedged between his teeth, but his authoritative tone caused people to part. The lifeguard –a young looking bloke, dressed in a non-traditional uniform- stepped through and scanned the area. Then his eyes fell upon Flo and I. I wasn't sure if that was his usual expression, but he looked kind of, well, pissed. For some reason, the way he glared at us, made me feel like I was guilty of some horrendous crime.
Flo was starting to sit up, coughing and gasping, dark tendrils of wet hair clinging to her pale skin. The lifeguard knelt down beside her, barked at someone for a towel and then wrapped it around Flo's slender shoulders.
"Are you alright?" he asked, but Flo could only cough and weakly nod in response. "Better bring you in for a quick check up. What happened?"
He scanned the area with his menacing stare. Most people were drifting away, afraid of his accusing eyes darting from person to person. Even Quinton looked intimidated as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and kept his gaze down.
"She fell in," I answered, since no one was making a move to reply. "She can't swim."
He stared at me for a moment longer, scooped Flo into his arms and jerked his head at me to follow. All eyes seemed to monitor my every move as I slowly got to my feet and awkwardly trudged behind him. I felt extremely uncomfortable with all the attention and as soon as the lifeguard swung open the office door, I quickly scuttled inside like a hermit crab, trying to escape from all the stares.
"Iris!"
A woman, about thirty, with ash blonde hair and a pastel purple streak walked in. She was unwrapping a stick of cherry-flavoured gum and raised an eyebrow at the lifeguard. Iris raised her l left hand and placed the chewy between her lips. The skeleton of her hand was tattooed from her wrist to her knuckles and all the way to the tips of her fingers before they hit her brightly painted fingernails. The intricate design of the bones and joints that lined the back of her hand was mesmerising and it were tattoos like Iris' that made me want to get one myself.
"Dean," she answered, with sarcastic pleasantness, "you barked?"
Along with the quirky hair, tattoos and badass attitude, her strong British accent added to her personality.
"Quit the attitude, Iris, and get this kid in for a check-up," Dean ordered.
Iris pursed her vibrant red lips, then sighed dramatically. "Only because you pay me to do it," she replied playfully and walked over towards the wall where a line of wheelchairs where situated and rolled one over.
While Flo was placed into the wheelchair, Iris noticed me. "Hey, who's the kid?"
"No one," Dean answered. "Just someone I need to talk to."
Iris reached over and slapped a hand on my shoulder. "Don't let him scare you, honey. His face looks like that all the time."
With that, she wheeled Flo into another room for a quick examination. I turned towards Dean, who was now behind his messy desk. Papers were scattered everywhere and pens were found randomly lying around. The only sign of organisation was a stack of books in the corner with a photograph sitting on top. Before I could lean in and see what was on it, Dean slapped the frame down, snapping my attention back to him.
My hands were sweating but when I wiped them against my wet shorts, it did nothing but make them damper. I stood there awkwardly, looking at Dean who was just staring at me with a look that could kill.
Eventually, he said, "You saved that girl's life."
"I know."
He leaned back in his desk chair. "Have you had any experience with these kinds of situations?"
"Honestly, it was a fluke," I replied. "I was just going off what I remembered from Health class."
Dean did more of his intimidating staring, then finally straightened and grabbed a pen, scribbling on the corner of a piece of paper. When he was done, he ripped it off and handed it over. I squinted at his scrawly handwriting and found nothing but tomorrows date and a time: six in the morning.
"Would you be interested in being a lifeguard for the summer?"
I drove us home from the pool. I didn't care that my vehicle was a little, turquoise buggy. Instead, I got behind the wheel and pressed on the pedal. Tess didn't argue. Instead, she sat in the back seat with Flo and comfortably rubbed her shoulders, trying to get her warm again. Flo shook the whole ride back, but I don't think it was because she was cold.
In the car, it was tense. No one said a word. Quinton sat in the front with me, staring out the window. Tess and Flo were silent. Even George hadn't touched his PSP since the incident. Instead, he stared wide-eyed at Flo. After I had dropped Quinton off, I parked my driveway and waited until Tess and George were out.
"You told me you could swim," I said, trying not to make my voice accusing, but more confused. I looked at her through the rear view mirror.
"No, technically, I didn't," she answered, keeping her eyes out the window.
I sighed, knowing the conversation would only end badly if I pressed. Instead, I pulled the keys out from the ignition and opened my door. I pushed my seat down and let her slide out. She slowly exited the car, wrapping the Nemo towel around herself. I had never realised the print until then.
Although Flo made it clear that she wanted to stay as far away as possible from me, I walked her to her door. I felt guilty enough of the events that had occurred during the day and I wouldn't want to get on Mr. Jefferson's bad side. But the more I thought about it, the more I concluded that, either way, I'd end up on her parents' hit list.
I mean, I was dropping off their daughter and she was two pieces of clothing away from being naked. I had never dropped off a half-naked girl. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what would happen, but I couldn't leave her. So, I sucked it up and prepared for the worst.
When we reached the front door, Flo stuck her hand in the hanging pot by the doorbell. Removing her hand, between her dirty fingers, was a key. I watched as she used it to unlock her house and then threw it back into the pot. Flo shrugged off the Nemo towel and handed it to me.
"Have a good night, Holden."
With that, she disappeared inside and shut the door. I stood there, clutching the towel as I stared at the closed door, not exactly certain of what had just happened. I supposed she was just embarrassed and I probably wasn't making it any better by basically stalking her. It was one thing undressing her in a pool while she was unconscious, but following her, while she was in nothing but her undergarments was probably making her more than a little uncomfortable.
Eventually, I forced my feet to move and I cut through the lawn and back to my house. Once I was inside, I threw the towel into the laundry room and took the stairs two at a time until I reached my room. After the day's events, I was exhausted and was contemplating going to sleep early without dinner or further contact with anyone else. Flopping onto my bed, I sprawled across the small space of my single bed and closed my eyes.
As I drifted into that state of hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness, I heard a soft knock on my door. Unwillingly, I opened one eye and was about to grumble for the intruder to go away, but when Tess stepped into my room, I forced my eyes to open completely. I scrubbed a hand down my face but sat up.
Tess reached the end of my bed and sat cross legged. She placed her hands in her lap, but twiddled her thumbs. She was rarely a silent type. Tess always had something smart and witty to say, always had new suggestions or adventures to share, but she had always struggled with silence. That, and sharing emotions.
"You saved her," she finally said.
"I know," I said, picking at a loose thread of my blanket.
"Holden, you're a hero."
I groaned. I didn't like the word 'hero'. Sure, as a kid it meant awesome capes and the hilarious thought of wearing underwear on the outside. And at the dorky age of thirteen it meant the thrill of secret identities and comic book plots. But now that I had done something 'heroic' it meant bigger expectations, more responsibilities and the sudden anticipation that I would continue.
"What did the lifeguard have to say?" she asked, noticing my disgust in the word. "He was such an ass when I asked for his help. He looked like he wanted to murder me."
"Dean? Yeah, he was a dick to me too. He gave me this."
I fished around in my pocket until I found the crumpled and slightly damp piece of paper. I tossed it to Tess to which she reached over, picked up and frowned at the messy handwriting.
"He...asked you out on a date," she concluded slowly.
"No," I answered, snatching the piece of paper back. "He offered me a lifeguard job."
Tess' eyebrows rose. "Are you going to take it?"
I shrugged and leaned back against the pillows. "I honestly don't want to go back to the place. Everyone was watching me. Everyone. And now they all witnessed my fluke and are probably going to have high expectations for me to do it again, but what if I can't, Tess? What if I try to save someone and they die. This is way too much for a seventeen-year-old guy to manage. I should be worrying about the Wi-Fi cutting out and running out of good food. I don't want the pressure of saving people's lives."
She seemed to take this into consideration. "Holden, he wouldn't have offered you the job if he didn't think you were good enough. He's a professional -in both his career and being a jerk- but he knows his stuff."
Now it was my turn to take it into consideration. "What if I screw up?"
"Everyone screws up," Tess answered. "Come on, Holden, let's not turn this into some cliché conversation where you doubt yourself and I give you a long ass speech about your talents and then you eventually venture off into the sunset with clear determination. Bottom line: some things are out of your hands. Say it with me now."
I laughed at her teasing voice, imitating a group leader at some kind of recently-quit-insert-addiction-here meeting, where they repeat inspiring quotations in unison in their dramatically exciting monotone voices. Although she meant it playfully, I said it with her, mimicking the expected intonation.
"Some things are out of my hands."