Deep Water – Jamie Sumner

Arch was being kind letting me in on the action. But it was all his idea. Not that he would ever say that because that’s not the kind of person Arch is. Not like me, who always has to make sure everyone sees my time lit up on the board during meets and hears my answer in history class and watches me race down the steep driveway at school in my Rollerblades.

If I were a knight, I’d demand they make the round table a rectangle so I could sit at the head of it. If our family had a motto, it would be: “Every person for themselves.” The real reason I agreed to help was because I did not want to be at home. Mom hadn’t left yet, but we might as well have been camped on top of a mountain of doom— the air stretched so thin it left you light-headed.

To be home was to be alone with a dad who disappeared behind his computer screen and a mom who disappeared behind her phone and her exercise routine. At least Dad was doing his job. Mom was making a choice. I didn’t know it then, but I was six weeks away from her disappearing for good. I wish I could go back and sled forever on a roped-off hill where everything is safe because I know somebody is looking out for me. OceanofPDF.com What’s in a Name During art class this year, we had to look up our names in a baby book covered in pink writing and blue ABC blocks.

And then we had to draw a self-portrait based on the definition we were given that showed whether we agreed or disagreed with the description. “Tully” is my mother’s maiden name. According to the pink baby book, my name means “quiet” and “peaceful.” You can imagine what my mother said when I told her that.

My Mother Told Me The problem with letting someone else tell your story is that they always get it wrong. They’ll shove their morals and personality and biases and blind spots and irritations into it. Which means the one thing you can never do is let another person speak for you.

That’s what she said one day before she left. I’ll never know her story because she never gave me time to ask. Now that she’s gone, while I’m out here on the not-so-still waters, almost all alone, there’s no one to tell my story to. Because nobody listens to a kid. Instead, they tell you what you did or didn’t do. What you are and are not about. The thing about being twelve is that all anybody thinks to do is talk at you.

At least out here, the water drowns her silence and the rest of the world’s noise. OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com HOUR ONE OceanofPDF.com How It Starts Air temp: 44 degrees. Water temp: 68 degrees. Body temp: 98.3 degrees. Mental state of swimmer: Calm. Loose. Ready. Mental state of support crew: Unknown and highly variable. Arch looks like he’s going to puke— hands on knees, head down like a dog, orange life vest bunched around his ears.

Poor Arch. He wasn’t meant for the open water. He’s a worrier. You can’t be a worrier and a swimmer. The water demands trust. Whatever conditions… Whatever’s below… Whatever your head tells you… You have to believe you’re going to make it to the other side. The minute you start to doubt yourself, you make mistakes. The water doesn’t forgive mistakes.

Me? I’m a believer in the power of the water and in myself. I don’t make mistakes. While we’re still on shore, Arch adjusts his life vest and breathes in through his nose. I check his watch. “5:58 a.m. You’ve got two minutes to get it together,” I say, and look out over the dark blue of Lake Tahoe, which is just beginning to twitch awake.

“Tully, I can’t,” Arch says, like he has a choice. “You have to. You swore it.” I don’t remind him when or why he swore it. He picks up the kayak, drags it to the water’s edge. He remembers. Behind me, Cave Rock would cast a shadow if the sun were high enough.

They call her Lady of the Lake. If you squint hard enough, the rock looks like a woman. I think it’s a stretch. If you try hard enough, anything can look like anything. Unless it disappears, and then all the imagining in the world won’t turn it into what you want, which brings me back to today. “One minute,” Arch whispers, and swipes his dark hair out of his eyes.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 9b55494bb20f888e
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 5,479,525 bytes (5.226 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• ISBN: 9781665935067, 9781665935081
• Pages: 209
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 114.48 minutes
• Total Words: 22,896
• Total Characters: 120,398
• Average Words per Page: 109.55
• Average Characters per Page: 576.07

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