Deceived

Chapter One

I leap from the diving board, twisting gracefully in the moment of the fall, and then glide into the deep end of the pool. Warm water whooshes around me in a dizzying whoomph. These moments, where the momentum carries me to the bottom of pool, where I can run the tips of my fingers along the slick blue tiles, weightless, before using a single kick to carry me to the surface—

These are the best.

I resurface, laughing and shaking water droplets from my eyes.

No homework. No annoying grades. No daily pill.

Just me...

"Hey, Galina!"

My sister waves, beckoning to where she and her friend are staying near the shallow end. Pretty sure I'm going to get splashed if I do. She's still trying to compensate for my far superior armstand dive I did when we first got here—though she's getting better. I taught her that move, and I'm proud to say she checked twice to make sure no one was watching before taking the plunge.

It's not exactly Community "safe."

I smirk and dive underwater, taking my time to return. My sister is a decent swimmer, even without my natural knack, and her friend loves the water almost as much as I do. Almost, because she'll have her nose in a book as soon as she gets home, whereas I'll be trying to weasel my way into staying an extra hour tomorrow.

My sister performs an underwater backflip as I approach. When she pops back up, her blond hair sticks to her chin in soggy clumps, backlit by the late afternoon sun streaming through the small windows at the top of the pool's concrete walls.

"We have half an hour before we need to get back," her friend notes, prim as usual. "I still need to finish algebra, and..."

My sister shoots her a glare. "Oh come on, Jen. We could stay another forty-five minutes and still get you home on time."

I grin. Maybe she's starting to take after me after all. "Amateurs. If you took the back routes, you could bypass the guards and make it home right at dark."

Jen's eyes bug out—the teacher's pet plays everything by the book—but my sister sticks out her tongue. "Yeah, but at least we get A's on our homework. What was your last score?"

Show-off. A well-aimed splash on my part and she's spitting out pool water. That'll teach her to be all uppity about her grades. I chuckle. "I don't need a perfect grade to get a job as a lifeguard, or to teach other people to swim."

"You still need a decent grade," Jen mutters, guiding my sister toward the shallow end where I'm less inclined to go. Suits me. They can enjoy chatting while I enjoy the pleasure of treading water, floating without a care in the world—

Something ripples beneath me.

I frown, twisting to see the source. Thus far, the pool has been serene. The only source of motion comes from us and the water filters on the sides.

But this came from directly below me.

I sink, letting out my breath slowly so I can reach the bottom.

Nothing there. No strange ripple. Just... a feeling something's beneath me, even though there isn't. After a moment of fruitlessly trying to discern what's not really there, my lungs burn. I shoot to the surface and take a gasping breath. Community... I need to work on staying underwater longer. Normally I don't have a problem—I haven't since I stopped taking the daily pill—but something feels wrong.

Goosebumps crest across my skin where it's exposed to air. This pool has always been my second home. But now it's as if the water... as if it's breathing. As if it's restless.

Crazy.

I take a deep breath, dizzy. Maybe I should stay out of the pool for a little while. Catch my breath. I must have overexerted myself practicing those armstand dives.

I make my way to my sister and stick to the shallow end for the rest of the evening, watching the other two race each other, practicing for the relays in a couple weeks. After a few minutes, I retract my feet and sit cross-legged on the edge. I close my eyes to steady myself.

Something laps against my skin in rhythmic pulses, even though I'm not in the water. My breath catches in my throat. I open my eyes and stare at the far end of the pool.

It must be my nerves, because there's no way I can sense how the water laps against the far end of the pool—

Not when I'm sitting on the other side.