The next morning, I shut out any fear of pain and all the things that could wrong. If my plan went right, that was even scarier. I pretended nothing was real, my movements robot-like as I slipped into the red tankini and focused on the one thing I could control. I longed to shout at Mr. Montgomery, “You don’t own me!” Then I’d raised my hand, tuck in four fingers, and flip him off to my death.
With a towel tied around my waist, my hips moved in a natural sway. Very unnatural to me. Nothing really seemed real, anyway, which in an odd way made things easier. Like I was an actress playing a role. Starring Amber Borden as Leah Montgomery.
Angie arrived promptly at five minutes to nine. She told me to follow her down the hall, her attitude surly as ever. She didn’t even talk to me. That was fine, since casual chitchat was not in my plans. Only moving forward and doing what I had to. Wordlessly, I followed Angie downstairs and through a back door that opened into an enclosed yard — with a swimming pool as its centerpiece.
“One hundred laps,” Angie ordered.
I nodded.
“Don’t cheat and quit early.”
I nodded.
“Stay in the pool until you finish your laps.”
“I’ll stay,” I replied obediently, shutting off my mind so I wouldn’t think too far ahead. One step at a time, that’s all I had to take.
Draping my towel on a wicker chair, I scanned the pool. Sparkling clear blue water with a strong odor of chlorine. Dustin loved to swim … no, don’t think of Dustin or anything connected to my real life. Just get through this with no mistakes. Should I jump into the deep water, or wade in from the shallow end?
While I was deciding, I heard the squeak of a door and glanced over to see Angie leaving. But that would ruin everything! Angie didn’t know it, but she had a key role in my plan. Despite her thoroughly disagreeable personality, she wouldn’t let the boss’ daughter drown. She’d jump in to save me — although I hoped it would be Leah she’d pulled out of the pool.
“Where are you going?” I called out to Angie.
She glanced over, annoyed. “None of your business.”
“But aren’t you supposed to watch me?”
“I got better things to do.”
“I might try to escape.”
“As if anyone could do that!” She made a humph sound. “You’d need wings to get over that twelve-foot wall. Then you’d have to get past your daddy’s trained dogs.”
“I love dogs.”
“Since when? Those dogs are so mean they don’t even like themselves. Vicious beasts, but they do their job. Now I have my own job, and it doesn’t include wasting time with you. Get busy with those laps.”
“You can’t force me to swim.”
“Maybe I can’t but your daddy can, and he’s got security cams all over this place.” She pointed up to a black camera fixed high over a doorway, its lens aimed at the pool like a weapon. “Now get busy exercising. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“An hour! But that’s too long.”
“Not unless you’re a speed swimmer,” she said, misunderstanding. Then she went inside, shutting the door behind her. Locking it, too, I was sure.
Frustrated, I sank in the lounge chair. I was still operating on “numb” and knew that if I stopped to think, the odds were high I’d chicken out.
Focus on the plan, I ordered myself.
I wasn’t a strong swimmer, but I could doggie paddle and float on my back. I’d already realized that a flaw in my plan was my inability to stay underwater until I started to black out. Instinct to survive would kick in, and I might not be able to resist coming up for air. Unless I weighed myself down.
The swimming pool was enclosed by a cement-block wall circling around perfectly pruned shade trees and artificial grass that looked real enough to fool hungry cows. Rushing water echoed in a lyrical rhythm from a faux waterfall that cascaded onto rocks. Hmmm … rocks.
Unfortunately, most of the rocks were too heavy, and I couldn’t pick them up. My arms may have looked muscular, but they were pathetic at lifting. I stepped over the larger rocks and searched for smaller ones. As I bent over to pick up a fist-sized rock, I had the odd sense of being watched. The shade trees rustled slightly from the spring breeze, and a few birds swooped through the branches. I didn’t see anyone, but did spot another security camera fixed over the pool house. Normally I’d hate the idea of cameras spying on me, but now I was glad to have them. They were extra insurance for a rescue.
Slipping into a mindless numb zone, I sorted through the rocks until I found five that were heavy, yet also slim enough to fit into my tankini. I squeezed in two up top and three below. My suit sagged, lopsided, and I balanced the rocks so my tankini bottom didn’t fall off. I barely felt the rocks up top under Leah’s surgically enhanced boobs.
A clock affixed on the pool-house wall pointed out the time. I calculated how long it would take to jump into the water, lose consciousness, see the light, chat with Grandma, pet Cola if he was around, then presto-chango, body switcheroo. Factoring an estimate return for Angie, I concluded that if I entered the water in exactly forty-seven minutes, Leah’s body had a 74 percent chance of survival. Not great odds, but better than my chances of returning to my body once it was pronounced dead.
This is not suicide, I reminded myself. It’s survival.
One minute passed. Then three minutes. Only another forty-four to go — too much time to think, to stress, to dissect every little detail. Did the rocks weigh enough? What if I floated to the top? I had to make sure I was heavy enough to stay on the pool bottom until I saw the light.
That’s when I noticed a discarded brick leaning against a brick flower planter on the far side of the pool. Five rocks and a brick would add plenty of weight. Walking with rocks scraping my skin beneath my swimming suit was uncomfortable. So I moved slowly, with my arms stretched out for balance, as I maneuvered around wicker patio furniture. A lounge chair blocked the way, and as I bent down to push it aside, something shifted in my swim top. A rock popped out and plopped down.
I yelped as the rock smashed onto my foot.
Crying in pain, I jumped and grabbed my sore foot. The hopping jarred the other rock out of my top. I grabbed for it, but couldn’t get a grip. The rock slipped through my fingers toward my other foot. Instinctively I lunged backwards, my arms flailing as I teetered on the edge of the pool. And then I fell …
Something hard smacked my head.
I never heard the splash.