By Ann Harleman
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Peter Pain ran in terror across the front, with little wavy streaks behind him to show how fast he was going. I lay back among the pillows parallel to Clesta, with Chinky on her other side. There was a little pile of orange peels on the sheet between us. "I couldn't sleep," I said. Clesta flicked the remote control and Johnny Carson became a mouth soundlessly moving. " "Journey-proud. That's what my mother used to call it. " "So you have. " Chinky raised his gargoyle head, and I reached across Clesta to pat him.
I capped the jar and put it back. In the mirror I straightened the straps of my suit. There was nothing to be done about my flat chest or the way my shoulder blades poked out like chicken wings. At least Althea wasn't here to make fun of me, swaggering around with two rolled-up pairs of socks stuck in the top of her suit; or Rhoda, who never let me forget I was a year young for my grade, sliding a red-tipped finger around the bottom of her bikini. I undid my ponytail and my hair, the same no-color as Bobby's, fell over my shoulders.
I'd never swum naked before, but I didn't want to look chicken. Treading Page 22 water, I peeled down my suit. The wet fabric caught on my nipples and scraped my thighs. I pulled it over my feet. Water slid around my naked body like Clesta's silk sheets. I found the side of the pool and clung there while I pushed my suit up over the edge and left it in a little pile. Letting go, I swam toward the shallow end, gliding through the water without moving my arms. I felt fast and light. The water fizzed across my body, over my belly, around my thighs.