The Odds of Loving Grover Cleveland by Rebekah Crane

Author:Rebekah Crane [Rebekah Crane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Skyscape
Published: 2016-12-01T07:00:00+00:00

Cassie puts her head under the water many more times before the bell rings to end our activities. I teach her how to kick. She holds on to the side of the H dock in the red zone making waves with her legs, her head in the water, and blowing bubbles. Every time younger kids swim past, she splashes them and smiles. By the end of the day, she’s lying on her back, face toward the sun, and floating in her life jacket.

I sit on my butt in Lake Kimball, feeling the sand and water between my fingers, and watch her. My shirt billows out in front of me like a heavy water balloon. It weighs me down.

Cassie watches me as I walk to the end of the dock. With the sun on the water, I can see the drop-off that marks the yellow zone from green. The sandy bottom disappears and all that’s left is navy blue.

When I dive in, my shirt drags as I push my way through the water. I touch the bottom with my hand just to know it’s there. There is a bottom. Looking up through the blue, I push my feet off the ground and start fighting my way back to the top. My shirt clings to the water, like a million tiny hands pulling on me, trying to make me go back down, but I don’t want to be on the bottom anymore. It’s dark down there. And I don’t want to fight so hard to breathe. Breathing should be easy.

When my head comes above the surface moments later, Cassie yells from the shallow end, “Show-off!”

We gather our things and head up the stairs toward the mess hall. Water drips off Cassie’s hair and down her back. The ridges of her shoulders and spine stick out; she’s so skinny. I don’t know how her parents look at her every day and don’t help. My mom would be all over me.

A sinking feeling overtakes my stomach. I swallow hard and ask her, “Do you still live with your mom?”

I see Cassie’s bones pull in tight. “Why?”

I try to act casual and even. “Just wondering.”

“No.” Cassie picks up the pace, but I follow closely.

“Who do you live with now?”

She whips around. “I did what you asked. I blew bubbles. Don’t burst mine with your questions.”

She stomps her way to the top of the stairs, but I stay put. My stomach is sour with sadness. I hate sadness. Anything is better than sadness. Even feeling nothing.

I look down and count the steps as I make my way up the stairs. At the top, a pair of large feet stops my movement.

“I have a package,” Grover says.

“What?”

“Do you want my package?”

I look down at the zipper on his shorts. I can’t help it. For a breath, I imagine what’s underneath. Grover is just so long.

He pulls a brown box from behind his back. “My package for you.” He smiles. “It’s not actually from me. I’m just the delivery boy.

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