Antipodes Page 7

  “Erin?” Percy said Erin like an American.

  She yanked off her goggles. “Yeah?”

  “I thought we might sort out races and medleys for the rest of the season. Can you race a hundred-meter fly?”

  “Sure.” She climbed out of the pool as Percy directed Summer and another girl—Lily—onto the blocks.

  Erin loved studying the water for that half second just before the gun. Or the clap, in this case.

  Her ass was dragging; she waited on the block for a second before diving in. Trying to push the idea of sleep out of her head, Erin went through the motions in her lane.

  Gracious, Percy had given Erin the center lane. The first 25 meters were easy; Summer and Lily were nowhere in her peripheral vision. Coming off the wall, she saw them both nearly a body length behind. And she was exhausted.

  At the second turn, Erin flipped to find herself a full body length ahead. Adrenaline outpaced her jet lag and she continued to push; it felt amazing to be winning again. She was in her element, creaming the two behind her. Erin finished so hard that she was still panting two minutes after she hit the wall.

  Percy bounced on the balls of his feet. “One-oh-four-oh-one! Eleven seconds off Summer’s 100 fly.”

  Summer shook Erin’s hand over the lane divider. “Relay’s yours.”

  Erin’s stomach twisted. Her performance had wrecked a relay team, which may not have been together three years like her own, but it had been together yesterday.

  Next month, one of the Quigley sisters would compete on her Wheaton relay team. With her girls.

  Erin was the Quigley now. Had she ruined these kiwi girls’ lives? She definitely had wrecked something for somebody. Now she felt like a jerk.

  She still had to survive on the team through the end of the season, though. When the Quigleys had usurped her position on the relay, she’d viewed them as pariahs. She didn’t want her new teammates to see her that way.

  “I am so sorry,” she said to Summer.

  Summer shrugged.

  Percy posted the day’s drills. Erin put her head in the water and worked. She kept pace with her lane during drills, but her anxiety persisted.

  Percy focused on form for an hour. After warm down, he dismissed everyone. No lifting. No out-of-water conditioning.

  No wonder they weren’t winning.

  They weren’t winning, but Erin would. And, unlike cello, racing was something she truly loved.

  As Erin climbed out of the pool, Percy repeated her time. “So you can race relay. Could you do the fifty-meter? The two hundred?”

  “Two-hundred fly?” That was a long race.

  Percy was giddy. “We have three fly races at championships. I’d love you to race them all. You can race whatever you want! We just have to submit your times by the middle of August. Imagine: we’ll send you alone, and maybe take the relay team, too. No matter how we do at next week’s meet, we’ll have four swimmers competing. Welcome, Erin.”

  Erin was stunned that he had no directives, only excitement. “Thanks, Coach.”

  “Percy, please. See you on the morrow.”

  After ninety minutes of intense practice, Erin and her Wheaton teammates dripped on the pool deck while Coach Waterson gave (mostly) constructive criticism.

  “Finally, I want you in top form for summer leagues: weights four times this week, no excuses. I don’t care what else is going on. I don’t care what happened at whose party—”

  The guys in the back snickered.

  “Be here on time and ready to work. We have a serious shot at some amazing races this year. Don’t blow it. Showers.”

  Erin’s teammates whispered about Claudia, Ruth, and Hillary Quigley. One of the freshmen asked for their autographs as the rest of the team disbursed into the locker rooms.

  Jamie hammered on Erin’s shoulder. “Surprised you went so deep today, Cerise.”

  She was attempting to parse that when Claudia Quigley said, “Hey, Erin?”

  Silent, Erin crossed her arms.

  Claudia bit her lip. “I just wanted to ask how you’re feeling after Saturday. I tried to help, really, I did. You doing okay?”

  Lalitha looped her arm through Erin’s. “What’s going on?”

  Erin raised her chin. “I am fine. Perfect. Except for my swimming prospects and personal life, everything is perfect.”

  Arms linked, she and Lalitha headed toward the locker room.

  EIGHTEEN

  Half the team had disappeared while Erin was talking to Percy. The other half had adjourned to the hot tub.

  If she were going to be an outcast here, too, she needed to know immediately. Into the fire.

  “Mind if I join you?” Erin asked.

  “Our pleasure! Welcome to the spa!” Lily slid to make room.

  Summer said, “Did everyone meet Erin?”

  Air-in. She was trying.

  A chorus of hellos greeted her: Ruby, Nala, Marama, Gemma, Ryan, Indiana, Tavé.

  “What was the relay team before I got here?”

  Summer said, “I swam fly. Marama, free. Ruby, breast. Gemma, back.”

  What could she say to that? Erin didn’t want to break up their party. Had Claudia Quigley felt any guilt when she replaced Erin on the relay team at Wheaton?

  To Summer, she said, “I didn’t think about how my being here would affect your season. I’m so sorry.”

  Summer was cheery. “Why? Because with you, the relay has a fighting chance at Nationals? Last year no one in our school qualified, and this year we could qualify four? That’s awesome.”

  Erin hadn’t considered that. “I’m … happy to help.”

  “Sweet as.”

  “How are you finding New Zealand?” Marama asked.

  “It’s only my second full day. Still jet-lagged, so I haven’t seen much.”

  “What kind of stuff do you like?”

  Here it was again. For all her bragging about confidence and self-sufficiency, Erin had few ideas about her own passions. “I like variety.”

  Summer said, “Do you prefer the tourist route—bungee off a bridge and tour boats—or the native route?”

  The word bungee struck terror in her heart. “Definitely the native route.”

  Marama laughed. “Correct choice.” Her skin was a beautiful, flawless brown. Ma-ori.

  “Where to first, you think?” Summer asked.

  A flurry of suggestions filled the hot tub: Hanmer, Castle Hill, Akaroa, Hokitika, Hell Pizza, Winnie Bagoes, Antarctic Center, Franz Glacier.

  Marama said, “How about bouldering Saturday? It’s rock climbing, but nearer the ground.”

  Erin stared at the water. She couldn’t imagine spending an entire day hopping over rocks. “I probably can’t Saturday. It’s my host mother’s birthday.”

  “Sunday, then,” Marama said.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Marama pointed a finger. “You owe me, after kicking my very best friend off my relay team!”

  Erin’s eyes widened, but Marama was grinning.

  Erin grinned back. “Sounds great.”

  “I’m out,” Summer said. “Family day.”

  “Same,” Ruby and Ryan said.

  “Minding my little brother.” Nala rolled her eyes.

  “Sunday. I’ll find someone who’s game,” Marama said before changing the subject. “So, Nala. Out with it. You and Zane.”

  Nala’s crimson cheeks told at least half the story. “He’s sweet,” she said.

  “Looked more savory to me,” Marama teased.

  Erin relaxed against the hot tub for a half hour while conversation volleyed between old friends. One by one, swimmers left the spa until only Summer and Erin remained.

  Erin said, “So, was this a typical practice?”

  “Pretty much.”

  They hadn’t gotten into the pool until 3:30, or half-three, and they’d adjourned to the hot tub shortly after 5:00.

  Erin said, “Is there somewhere we can lift weights and do some ext
ra training?”

  On the dry concrete, Summer dribbled a floor plan and directed Erin toward the weight room. “And we can use it any time we want. I’m off now. See you tomorrow?”

  “Same place, same time.”

  With forty minutes to kill, Erin headed to the weight room for conditioning.

  NINETEEN

  Felicity sang along to U2 as they sped home. The warm side of the house wasn’t quite warm yet when they arrived, but it warmed slightly as Erin catnapped under piles of blankets. When the family of four sat for mince stew at 6:40, just ten minutes late, the dining room was toasty.

  Before Erin was in the chair, Hamish asked, “How did you feel about your first day, Erin?”

  Erin retreated to the same phrase she’d used on Felicity: “I’m still digesting.”

  Hamish prodded, “What courses have you chosen?”

  Unsatisfied with a recap, Hamish asked Erin’s opinion about everything: Was she pleased with her courses? Was she excited about the relay team? How starkly did Ilam and Wheaton High contrast?

  Finished with the interrogation, Hamish handed Erin a credit card. “I finally got you a Metrocard today. It will refill automatically, so don’t lose it.”

  Erin’s brow furrowed. “What’s that for?”

  Hamish chuckled. “Felicity can’t knock off work every day to drive you around! Metrostar will get you to school and back. I should have brought you a map.”

  She looked at Felicity. “I thought I’d be driving. On the 81, you said?”

  “The 81 is a city bus. Metrostar, too,” Pippa said. “I like to alternate.”

  “And Foreign Study Network prohibits driving in your host country,” Hamish said.

  Erin winced. “No.”

  “Yes,” Felicity said. “It’s in all their paperwork.”

  In May, Claire had handled all the paperwork and made Erin sign on six different lines.

  She struggled to speak. After a full year with her own Fiat, Christchurch was relegating her to the bus? She had never taken a bus to high school. They were for freshmen who had no upperclassmen friends, enormously unpopular sophomores, and anyone else who had no sense of social order or survival.

  Thanks to swim team, Erin had always ridden with upperclassmen. When she got her license—and the Fiat—on her sixteenth birthday, she helped the social order by driving others.

  But here she was—seventeen—riding the bus. The city bus.

  Pippa said, “I’ll show you the way tomorrow. As long as we catch one of them before 7:24, we’ll be on time.”

  Erin’s head spun. She rubbed her chilly arms. She just wanted to crawl back to Pippa’s room and put on all the clothes she’d brought with her. “So, when does it really start to feel like spring in Christchurch?”

  Hamish said, “It’s already starting to warm up a bit, I think.”

  Erin grabbed her mug with both hands. It was almost too hot, but she’d take what she could get.

  Hamish said, “Put on a sweater.”

  She snapped, “I have on a sweater.”

  Hamish spoke through a mouthful of food. “Pu. on. Anuvah. Sweater.”

  “I am inside a house!”

  The table fell silent. Pippa studied her plate. Hamish maintained a foul expression as he chewed. Erin held her breath. Felicity covered Hamish’s hand with her own. “Hame?”

  Hamish gritted his teeth and puckered his mouth. A moment later, he spoke. “Okay, Saturday is the big birthday celebration.”

  Erin exhaled slowly and tried to harness some civility and calm.

  Hamish smiled. “We have a few things to finish up before then. You know what I mean, Pippa.”

  Their conspiratorial nod suggested they would be baking a birthday cake. Erin thought back to her last birthday celebration; whatever was in store for Felicity, it had to be better than that.

  “Limo’s here,” Claire yelled up the stairs. She was still pissed but clearly was ecstatic about Erin’s fun date night in a limo.

  Erin descended in a Rent the Runway gown Ben had helped her choose. It was the precise shade of Erin’s juniper eyes.

  “You look amazing!” Claire said. “Where the hell is Ben? It’s not like him to be late. Is he hungover, too?”

  “We’ll pick him up at his house,” Erin lied. “He didn’t need to drive over.”

  “Oh, good plan!” Claire spoke loudly and slowly to the limo driver: “She’ll give you directions to another house before you drive in to Chicago. Can you do that?”

  “Of course, ma’am,” he said in perfect American English.

  Erin slid into the black leather seat where she and Ben had planned to make out.

  Her chauffeur rolled down the opaque divider. “Address, miss?”

  Erin directed him to Lalitha’s house and asked him to wait.

  She rang Lalitha’s doorbell for two full minutes before withdrawing the spare key from the turtle statue. She found her friend swathed in blankets on the basement sofa.

  “Come on my birthday date with me,” Erin said.

  “Shhhhh,” Lalitha said. “Hangover.”

  “Li, Claire is furious and I am grounded for months. My personal life of hell is all over the Internet. I’m off the swim team. Ben just dumped me. You are coming out with me. Take an Ibuprofen, and let’s go.”

  “Restaurants are too loud. Concerts are way too loud.”

  Erin agreed. Anyway, the Chainsmokers were Ben’s band, not hers. And her hangover stomach wanted grease, so she could skip her Topolabampo reservation, too.

  Erin whispered, “I promise to be quiet. You don’t even need to change your clothes.”

  Lalitha glanced from her pajamas to Erin’s ensemble. “Sweet dress.”

  “You wouldn’t want it to go to waste, would you? Come on. I promise you a night of tears and tissues, greasy pizza, and ice cream. Girls’ night out … in a limousine.”

  Lalitha crawled off the sofa. Erin grabbed Ibuprofen from the kitchen and filled two water bottles. Five minutes later, Erin emerged from the house with Lalitha, who reeked of alcohol and still wore her pajamas.

  Their chauffeur opened the door without batting an eye.

  “What time are we supposed to be back tonight?”

  “11:30, miss.”

  Seven hours. “Change of plans. Can we just drive around tonight?”

  “I don’t understand, miss.”

  “We’re not going into the city. We’re not going to dinner or a concert. My friend and I would like to pick up a greasy pizza and drive around. I’m buying. For you, too. You in?”

  “You’re the boss,” he said, closing the door after her.

  TWENTY

  As Erin helped clean the table—together, naturally—Felicity touched her arm. “Do you think you’ll be happy here, dear?”

  “Sure!” Blatant, blatant lie.

  Felicity ducked into Erin’s gaze to look her in the eye. “You should let me know—let any of us know—if there’s anything we can do to help. That’s why we’re here. We’re family.”

  This was Erin’s chance to pull the exit cord: tell Felicity the house was too tiny and too cold and New Zealand had cheap clothes and the stupid school wouldn’t let her wear her grandmother’s ring and makeup was out of the question. That her independence had been stolen from her. That she felt like a child. That eating together every night made her itchy.

  But beating a hasty retreat to Wheaton wouldn’t be unique. She must press on. “I’ll let you know.” Felicity handed Erin a plate of crusts and leftover mince stew. “Into the organics bin.”

  Erin eyed the silver container on the counter. “This one?”

  “Indeed. All food scraps, bones, meats, by-products into there. Christchurch composts it all.”

  A half hour later, Erin and Pippa sat across from each other doing homework in front of the woodstove.

  “What are you working on?” Pippa asked.

  “Calculus.”

  “What’s that?”

  �
�Math.”

  Pippa’s eyes gleamed. “I love maths. Mrs. Frisby taught us how to make hexaflexagons today. Want to see?” She pulled out a paper hexagon. “I folded this paper into a hexagon, see?” Pippa colored it red on one side, blue on the other.

  “Nice.” Erin returned to her book.

  “No, no, no!” Pippa said. “Look.” She flipped the paper inside out and had another folded hexagon, both sides white. “I’ll color these purple and green. And do you think I’m done?”

  “Yep. Sweet,” Erin said.

  “No! I’m not.” Pippa turned the paper inside out a few times.

  Felicity put her hand on Erin’s shoulder. “Pippa, Erin wants to do her homework. Can she tell you when she’s free?”

  “Sure!” Pippa said, holding up another white hexagon. “But look! Still blank!” She colored that side orange before going back to her homework.

  To Erin, Felicity said, “She will talk forever. When you need space, tell her you need space. It’s kinder to everyone.”

  “Okay,” Erin said.

  Pippa worked for another thirty minutes, packed up, and left the table for the cold side of the house. Erin finished the last of her homework before accidentally walking in on Pippa brushing her teeth.

  “You can come in,” Pippa said.

  “I can wait.”

  “I left the door open so you could come in when you were ready. That’s what sisters do, right?”

  Erin shrugged. It was a silly thing, brushing their teeth together. Pippa was very careful to get around all her crooked, gapped teeth.

  While Erin was flossing, Pippa said, “So about Kapa Haka? My performance? It’s traditional Ma-ori dance. We have a performance fourth term. Maybe you’ll come watch?”

  Just in time, Felicity announced that she was ready to read to Pippa.

  Not tired enough for sleep, Erin sat in the warm half of the house with her computer. She replied to her mother’s email and reassured her everything was fine. She promised the cello was fine, too. Claire would be livid if she knew Erin wasn’t back on schedule.

  What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  Though it was the middle of the night in Wheaton, Erin texted Lalitha about Ilam and her new team. Regarding Ben, Erin decided what was happening was happening, whether she knew about it or not. She texted: