Chapter 13: Who Went In

I opened the attachment standing at the window, in my shorts, with the bread smell coming up through the floor.

It was a county incident report, typed, dated eleven years ago on the ninth of June.

It had a line for the lifeguard's name, and a box for each person pulled from the water.

There was one box with a name in it.

Mine.

Under it, in the lifeguard's cramped hand, was a note.

"Male, 11, found at the pier ladder, no pulse, no breath."

"Dragged from the water by female, 11, neighbor."

"Female held head clear until adult arrived and started CPR."

I read it three times.

Then I put the phone down on the sill, very carefully.

"Sadie."

She was awake. I don't know how long she had been.

She sat up in the sheet with her hair flat on one side.

She saw my face, and she did not ask me what was wrong.

"You've read it," she said.

"Who went into the water?"

Her mouth opened.

"Who went in, Sadie?"

"I did."

The word sat in the room.

"Start," I said. "From the beginning. The way you were going to last night."

She pulled her knees up and held the sheet against her chest with her bandaged hand.

"It was your idea to swim out," she said. "No. That's a lie. It was mine."

I did not move.

"The red flag was up. There was a raft anchored past the swim line, and the big kids went out to it."

Her voice was flat and fast, and I understood she had said it to herself in the dark every night.

"I said you wouldn't dare. You said you would. I said you wouldn't make it."

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