Fly by Alison Hughes

Author:Alison Hughes [Hughes, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Children's Fiction
ISBN: 9781525311031
Publisher: Kids Can Press
Published: 2022-10-04T00:00:00+00:00

DREAD DEPTHS

“Dude, you’re here?

At the pool?”

It’s Tedious Tyrrell.

Dr. Obvious.

My supposed friend.

“Looks like it,” I say,

and he laughs

because that was,

of course,

utterly

hilarious.

Tyrrell smiles a lot,

laughs a lot.

Too much,

in my opinion.

But everybody likes him.

“A real charmer,”

my mom says.

“Total sweetie.”

Not

prickly,

difficult

and

sarcastic,

like me.

All we have in common,

as far as I can see,

is our disability

and even in that

we differ —

mine is

more “profound”

(translation: worse).

But somehow

that one thing

is

everything.

And

because of it

everyone

expects us to be

great friends.

Random question:

Do we assume

the same

commonalities for

redheads?

boys with size nine feet?

girls who are five foot three?

left-handed people?

Would we be shocked

that in the end

they didn’t become

just awesome friends?

You get my point.

Our mothers

watch from the stands;

I hear them joking,

laughing,

talking,

visiting.

True friends.

My mother: short, stocky and pale.

His: tall, thin and dark.

One older, one younger,

one a single mom of a single son,

the other partnered in a family of five.

Nothing much in common,

other than having

kids

like

us.

Maybe that’s enough

for them.

Or maybe they’ve

discovered

more.

I turn my attention to

the serious business

of not drowning.

My teeth chatter

with a bone-deep

cold after the

lukewarm

splash

in the showers.

The pool,

the building,

everything

is

fuzzy

dreamlike

disorienting

without my glasses.

“Wow! It’s deep!”

Tyrrell offers

this killer insight

as we steer our chairs

to stare

down into the

fathomless depths.

All that’s missing from this

nightmarish

watery abyss

are circling sharks.

“Hope we don’t drown, man!”

laughs Tyrrell,

smacking my shoulder.

He echoes my thoughts,

and cold dread

trickles down my spine.

I cannot imagine

how this

bad dream

could

possibly

help my

self-esteem

or anything else.

“Felix? Ready for some

splash-therapy?”

Everyone’s a joker, it seems.

The wet-suited therapist

seems far too small

for

hauling

waterlogged bodies,

administering

basic

lifesaving

maneuvers

or performing

energetic CPR.

But at least she

wrestles me into a

life jacket

before she straps me

into a lift

and lowers me

like

dangling

bait

into the

waving

waiting

water.

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