Breathing Underwater by Alex Flinn Page A

Rejoice!”
    Why was she singing while I waited? She’d rather sing than be with me now? I turned the doorknob slowly, soundlessly, and slipped through. I stood frozen, watching .
    Two figures were by the piano. Caitlin and the guy playing. I knew him. Derek Wayne. We’d pretty much quit calling him “Wayne the Brain” last year. She stood so close, their bodies would touch if she inhaled too much air. Her fingertips grazed his shoulder. She leaned to turn the page, her blond hair brushing his pale face. My fists clenched. She shouldn’t touch another guy like that. She continued singing, every high and low note hitting like ice through my eye. Then, in the hardest section, she missed a note. Caitlin collapsed in a fit of giggles onto the piano bench .
    “Oh, God. I’ll never get this.”
    Derek stopped playing. “I won’t listen to you put yourself down, Caitlin McCourt. You’re just fishing for compliments.”
    “I’m not.”
    “You know you have the best voice around.”
    “Oh, sure.” But she returned his smile, encouraging him, like she’d take on anyone who’d have her. Slut. They could probably hear my heart by then, so I did the stupid, clichéd thing. I cleared my throat. Cat jumped. Both turned and looked at me .
    “Nick,” Cat said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
    “Guess not.” She thought I was stupid .
    She came over and tried to lead me toward Derek. I wouldn’t budge .
    “You two know each other?” she asked .
    Derek eyed me. “We’ve met.” He turned to Caitlin. “I didn’t know you and Nick … dated?”
    “Now you do,” I said. Without another word, I pulled Caitlin out the door, and we walked to the car in silence. It was closing in on five, and the parking lot was empty. Caitlin took my hand. I jerked it away. In my mind, I saw her touching Derek’s shoulder, her hair against his face. Our footsteps were loud as a marching band in the motionless parking lot. I stopped beside my car. I felt so weak, so used. She was making a fool of me, and I couldn’t stop it. Finally, the words built up to the point where they exploded from me. “Why didn’t you throw him down and screw him right there?”
    Caitlin stopped, backed away. “What?”
    “You know what. The way you were coming on to him.”
    “Are you crazy?” she said. “It was Derek .”
    The air was thick, heavy. “That’s it. I’m crazy. I saw you. I saw you flirting with him, touching him. I saw him looking at you.” I raised an arm. It was a gesture. I wasn’t going to hit her, was I? But she flinched. I knew I was yelling, but I didn’t stop, like that fat, hot air made me yell, made me say, “Slut! I can’t let you out of my sight, can I? You can’t be trusted, you bitch!”
    Caitlin turned to me. “You can trust me. How can you say this?”
    “How can I ?” Like I didn’t know better. “How can you be like that with other guys when you said you loved me? Are you lying about being a virgin? Sweet little Caitlin—you play hard to get with me, but you’d spread your legs for him, wouldn’t you?”
    I grabbed her arm. The anger inside me was alive, and it made me want things, crazy things. Part of me wanted to hit her. The other part wanted to force her against the car and take what she wouldn’t let me have, what I knew she was giving him. I felt every hair on my head, every pore of skin ripping open, and I yelled, “You sleeping with him, Cat? Is that where you learned what we do together—from other guys?”
    She didn’t speak. I gripped her arm harder. “Is it?”
    “No.” She stared at me, and once she spoke, she kept repeating, “No, no…”
    Sick of her, I dropped her arm and walked away. “Forget it. I’m leaving.”
    I got in the car and elbowed the door locked, still not looking at her. I gunned the motor and started to pull out of the parking space .
    Then I saw Caitlin .
    She stood, crying. No cars in sight. No one to see or hear or care. Caitlin’s hair hung in her