The Skylar Experiment : Dead Ending (second draft)

Chapter Eight-Broken Pieces

RILEY 

I FELT SICK TO MY STOMACH as my lungs begged for oxygen. I glided through the water, propelling myself with my arms, waving my way across relentlessly. From here, the sounds and the atmosphere were drowned out in a momentary strain of bliss. I made it to a wall and pushed off with my legs, the water splashing around me.

I came to the pool often after school. The physical stress allowed me not to think back. I reached the other wall and emerged, gulping for air too soon and choking on water. Chlorine invaded my throat and my nose with its foul sterile smell. I coughed, letting my feet float, holding myself over the ledge with one arm. My hand pressed against the cold wall and I inhaled.

When I raised my head, Emma crouched near the pool, one narrow fist under her chin.

"What are you doing here?"

She'd stopped wearing makeup since the attack, but it suited her. She was pretty with her bright hazel eyes and pale skin contrasting against her long flaming hair. One wouldn't know the hell she went through just by staring at her. 

"I thought I might find you here," she replied, dropping her hand. "You're forgetting something important."

I was not forgetting anything. 

"I can't do it," I said, my chin skimming the surface of the water.

This was the first time we talked since Emma bailed out, and I was fully aware she didn't intend to change her mind. She was doing this for Adam only and for our past friendship. I wasn't sure if it was hypocritical of her or not. 

"Yes, you can. Whatever happened between you two, you owe him and his family that. You haven't talked to Jen, have you?"

I hauled myself over the border and my knees hit the slippery floor. I ripped off the silly diving cap. Wet, tangled strands of hair fell down over my shoulders.

"No. I don't think she wants to talk to me." I didn't know what to say to her. She must be ravaged with grief. 

I eyed her as I straightened, grabbing my towel thrown over the bench. The answer to that was obvious, and I didn't know why I bothered asking. Emma had cut herself off from most people, but she was talking to Sam and Jen. Now, she alternated between Miles' table and the girls' table at lunch.

Emma bit her lip. "I'm going to the funeral. I want to say goodbye. You should, too."

Say goodbye.

God...

I wasn't ready. He should have lived on, become a researcher in biochemistry or a famous soccer player. Everybody believed in him and knew his potential—his joyful, contagious mindset. I closed my eyes, the guilt eating away at me like a starved parasite. 

When I reopened them, Emma was watching me like a question had peaked on her lips. I knew what it was and figured the hunters hadn't told her. She wanted to know about Ethan—about why they were together and how it happened. But she wouldn't allow herself to bring it up.

Anger pulsed through me at how she selfishly ignored Ethan's death of fear of involving herself. Protecting yourself had its limits. 

But then, all she had to do was ask Miles if my words were just a joke. He'd been there. My shoulder ached in the spot his arrow had tore through, right under the collarbone. 

Emma rose with a sigh, and I noticed that she looked healthier, more solid on her feet.

"I'll see you there, I guess." She began walking toward the girl's changing room. "If you decide to make it."