I looked up above me, feeling my cheeks turn tingly in a blush.
I’d fallen into the pool. How had I fallen into the pool?
I knew that I should go up, but I was too embarassed. I knew that my lungs were rather wanting air right now, but I was afraid that coming up there like that, and seeing everyone look at me, would be a fate worse than death.
So I sat there for a moment, contemplating the possibilities. I wasn’t really in any danger. My parents, in an effort to make me friends, had signed me up for all sorts of clubs and camps and classes when I was younger.
I’d been in swim classes from the ages of two (when they first realized that I could talk, but chose not to) to twelve (when I finally got up the nerve to say that I hated clubs, camps, and classes).
I’d been in swim camps for almost as long.
I even took diving lessons.
Basically: I could hold my breath for two minutes.
Obviously Jake didn’t know this, because after about thirty seconds he came diving in.