Page 13 of Into the Deep Blue

I’m in my pajamas, lying in bed, four songs deep into my Spotify daylist. I’ve washed my face and brushed my teeth, but not before finishing the rest of the cold pizza and the strawberry ice cream.

That’s when his text comes. That’s how long it took.

Nick: Where did you go?

I read the words again, unsure if I want to reply because if I do, I’ll unleash a firestorm of rage onto the keys. He doesn’t even deserve a reply. He deserves the silent treatment, but I can’t help myself. I engage.

Me: I texted you

See above

Nick: I did see above

But it’s not an answer

Me: Home

Nick: Why didn’t you come get me?

Me: I

texted

you

Nick: Right

Because I could hear my phone in a room with ten thousand speakers

Me: Were they playing a really funny song?

It’s so petty, I roll my eyes at myself the second I send it. What am I doing?

Nick: ?? I don’t get it

Me: I was sleeping

Talk later

Nick: Honestly?

Always with the honestly. Why did we ever start this?

Honestly, you’re a dick.

Honestly, I’ve complained a million times about May, and you abandoned me for her. And yeah, maybe I didn’t spell it out in the pre-party checklist, but did I really have to?

Honestly, I don’t know if we should be friends.

Honestly, I don’t even know who you are right now.

But I don’t want him to know any of this. So, I text:

Always

***

On Tuesday, I do a google deep dive for gymnastic clubs in New York to take my mind off the party nightmare.

I’m hoping to land a coaching job when I get there. Two years ago, I quit competing, and thought I was done for good, but I missed it—painting my hands in chalk, the smell of worn leather on the beam, the way the fluorescent lights would flick on, one by one at six a.m. practices. So, I went back as a coach on my own terms and fell in love with it all over again. The only downside is having to deal with the parents.

I email a few places to introduce myself. My latest coaching certificate came in last week, and I search my desktop to scan it, but can’t find it anywhere. I ransack my drawers, and a ton of other things turn up instead—menus from random restaurants, bottle caps, newspaper clippings from competitions. My drawers overflow with history, memories that hurt too much to think about. It all has to go, like now, so I dump everything into an empty CVS bag. The certificate has to be at the gym.

I run downstairs carrying the bag tied tight like it’s trash. Dad’s on the floor in front of the coffee table, putting together a model car. I wish he was still doing the baking thing. He was pretty good at it.

“Hey, have you seen any of my papers around?”

There’s a stack of mail on the kitchen table, and I rifle through it. Nothing of mine.

Dad doesn’t take his eyes off his project.

“Kind of papers?”

“For school. Work, actually.”

He puts down the tube of glue and lifts his glasses.

“This is new.”

“Not really. Just trying to get organized.”

I grab the car keys from the side table.

“I’m going to the gym. I think I left something in my locker.”

“Okay.”

Outside, I dump the bag into the garbage bin, marveling at how easy it is to erase yourself.

***

The gym doors slide open, and the lobby is buzzing with students. Classes have ended, and now private lessons are underway. I have Tuesdays off, so this is the last place I want to be right now, especially since May is working. We haven’t talked since the party on the weekend. I spot her walking alongside a girl on the balance beam, framed perfectly by the parent viewing window, and wave my hands over my head to get her attention so she doesn’t think I’m avoiding her. It works, except she freezes when she sees me, wearing a busted expression that I don’t understand until the girl pivots at the end of the beam. It’s Sarah, my student, and it’s not our night.

This kind of thing happens all the time. When parents have a schedule conflict, they switch days, so I don’t think much of it as I head for the locker room. May was giving off a strange vibe, though.

The changing room is empty. I go to my cubby and start searching under some sweats I left behind for my certificate. That’s when I spot an envelope sticking out on the top shelf. It takes a few jumps before I can grab it.

The door flies open, and May hurries inside.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

she asks, hands on her hips.

“Was looking for this.”

I wave the envelope around.

“Is that Sarah out there?”

She swallows, taking a little too long to answer. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Cool. Nobody called me about the change.”

“Yeahhh. Jaden was supposed to tell you.”

She blinks at me, and there’s pity in her eyes. I brace for whatever’s coming next.

“Tell me what?”

“It’s more than a night change. Look, Fi. I don’t know, this shouldn’t come from me . . . ”

“You can’t not tell me now, so just tell me.”

May fiddles with her earring and keeps her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Sarah’s Mom saw you coming out of one of those meetings at the community center.”

I remember the night. She was at swimming lessons. She sprang out from around the corner, and I waved.

“I guess her mom was weirded out by it and asked if she could switch to me.”

“Oh. Weirded out by what?”

“I don’t know. The whole therapy thing?”

My eyes grow wide.

“The whole therapy thing? Jaden ate meatloaf and gravy off your abs!”

May’s cheeks burn. She whips her head around. No one’s here. Her secret is safe.

“I know, I know.”

She’s pressing the air down with her hands, meaning I should shut up now.

“It’s not fair. It’s total bullshit.”

She’s saying the words, but she doesn’t sound all that upset.

“What happened to ‘yay mental health’?”

“Yeah, I think that’s more like for Insta . . . and it’s not just Sarah. It’s Tori, Becca, and Rose, too.”

I take a step back.

“What? They’re all switching to you? Permanently?”

“I’m so sorry.”

This, I believe. Her face falls, and her eyes are sincere.

“So, what? Do they think I’m crazy or something?”

May shakes her head.

“I don’t know. You know how insane the rumor mill is. It’s stupid.”

It’s still not sinking in because everyone knows about my mom. It’s not exactly breaking news.

“Why would they hold therapy against me? Jaden has house parties every weekend, and he’s the head coach!”

She shrugs.

“I don’t get it either, but the parents are always right, you know how it is. If you want me to turn them down, I will.”

“No. Whatever. At least one of us can make some money.”

“I don’t care about the money, I care about you,” May says.

“You should have texted me when you found out.”

“I wanted to, I swear. But Jaden said it was policy that this kind of news comes from senior staff, and I don’t know why I listened to him because here we are.”

“It’s fine. You know, I don’t even care.”

Except I do care. A lot. Teaching these kids is one of the few bright spots in my week, and now it’s being taken from me, too.

May waves me over.

“Come inside with me. Let’s catch up.”

I follow her into the gym. Sarah’s still on the balance beam practicing small jumps. I stroll by the viewing area window and make eye contact with her mom, giving her the boldest glare I can muster now that I have nothing to lose. She turns away, pretending to search for something in her purse, and it takes everything I have not to slam my fist against the window. I can see the headlines.

“Crazy gym coach terrorizes parents.”

“Hi, !”

I spin around. Sarah smiles from the beam, waving with both hands.

“Hey! Looking good up there!”

“May said I’m not standing straight enough.”

I make a boo face, and May swats me.

“And she won’t let me do walkovers.”

“Looks straight to me!”

I say, and Sarah proudly pulls her shoulders back even more. May and I walk alongside the beam while she practices walking backwards.

“You disappeared last weekend,” May says.

“Did I? I thought you were the one who disappeared.”

May doesn’t get it.

“Back the other way,”

she instructs as Sarah reaches the end of the beam.

“I was tired and went home,”

I say with a sigh.

She rolls her eyes.

“You could’ve said goodbye.”

Then a hint of a smile plays on her lips.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“That Nick is hot.”

I’ve been trying not to think about Nick, but it hasn’t been working. “Is he?”

She nudges my arm.

“Oh, come on. You know he is. Now, I get why you’ve been hiding him.”

“Haven’t been hiding him. We’re equally hermits.”

“I don’t know, Fi, he seemed pretty sociable.”

He really did.

“I think I like him.”

She stops walking and smiles wide like this is a big announcement, and because I’m still staring daggers at Sarah’s mom, it’s not computing.

“Who?”

“Earth to ! Nick.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think, like, it would be cool if I called him?”

The cats are back. They’re back, and they’re multiplying. I think one’s morphed into a dog and my chest might cave in. Why is it so hot in here? I can’t breathe.

“Sorry, what was the question?”

“Can I call him?”

She speaks slowly, enunciating every syllable. Her eyes are wide as she waits for my answer.

I blink.

“Yeah, totally.”

“You sure? You swear there’s nothing going on there?”

“With Nick? No.”

It’s like my brain has taken me hostage and is answering on autopilot.

“Because I won’t call if you’re into him. You have to tell me.”

I scrunch up my face.

“Noooo. Not into him.”

“I mean, he’s funny. He’s got this dry sense of humor.”

She’s actually gushing over him.

And I so don’t need to hear May’s keen perceptions on everything I already know about Nick.

She drones on about every second of their time together at the party and caps it off with.

“I think there might have been a spark.”

I trip on a piece of overlapping gym mat and try to compose myself. “A spark?”

Until now, I hadn’t considered this feeling might be mutual, but she’s serious, her face aglow in dreamy contemplation.

“Yeah, sometimes you just feel it. Those seconds when eye contact is more than eye contact.”

I might be having a heart attack. There’s a sharp pain behind my ribs and what a way to go—studying May’s features in a whole new light under the gym fluorescents. The dainty slope of her nose, the freckle on her left cheek, and her jet-black hair so silky it might sparkle. Are these the qualities that trigger sparks?

Has my loss left me sparkless?

I thought Nick and I were the same—equally sparkless, so how can he suddenly spark with someone else?

“I’m going to text him.”

May digs her nails into my shoulder and jumps. Sarah’s mom scowls from the viewing area because her daughter’s being ignored. I don’t tell May.

“Eeeeee, I’m so nervous. Which is crazy, right? We’re too old to be nervous! So, explain to me again why nothing’s ever happened with you guys?”

It’s so insulting to hear it phrased that way because the truth is, everything happened with us. Everything but sparks, I guess. Before I leave, she leans into my shoulder and quietly asks.

“You’re sure he’s not super fucked up or anything?”

What can I say to that.

“Ninety-nine percent.”

Her eyes light up.

“One percent is super hot!”

I can’t get out of there fast enough. I run through the sliding doors, and once I’m outside, it all hits me. This is all my fault. My magnificent creation. I invited Nick to that party. I gave May the green light. It’s like she orchestrated the whole thing by exploiting my weaknesses, and then I served him up on a silver platter. To May. Who does that?

Once I’m in my car, I just sit there. The details for the motel booking fill my phone screen. There’s no point in pretending this trip is still happening. It was never going to happen. Nick always knew I’d find a reason not to go. Maybe this whole disaster was me creating one.

It doesn’t matter. He was right. I click on the link and cancel the reservation.