I know she’s here. I can tell she wants to make sure I don’t change my mind, go off course. I can feel her energy pulsing in the room. Dee.

I take off my socks and shoes and put my foot in the water, then sit on the edge and submerge my legs, splashing and kicking like a kid.

Remember that first time we went to the lake? Dee asks, and there she is, sitting up on the high diving board, her own legs dangling over me.

“Sure. You turned me into a nudist.”

You needed someone to tell you to take a risk.

I smile. Then peel off my shirt, and shiver.

Now we’re talking! Look how easy it is now! You’re not afraid anymore, says Dee, laughing, and she stands, the diving board firm and unmoving under her weight. She teeters on one leg, pulling off socks, pants, then all the rest. She jumps lightly, up and down, watching me, everything out in the open, jiggling. She is free and fearless. Come on, Stevie. Be bold. Take back what they stole.

I stand and take off the rest of my clothes, throwing them in the corner, and I dive in. The water is cold against my bare skin, it bubbles around my face as I expel all the air in my cheeks, and I emerge, with energy to spare, laughing loudly and joyfully in that moment, my voice echoing off the walls.

I look around, gasping, but Dee is gone.

*   *   *

Rows and rows of lockers, and I’m heading toward mine on a kind of autopilot, my hair wet and my clothes sticking to my body from the pool.

There it is. I stand in front of it.

Black marker in small, childlike writing. My stomach lurches.

SUCK MY DICK BITCH

I laugh once, a bark like a dog in the empty hallway, and kick the locker, hard. It is so satisfying, that hard bang into the still air. I do it again, and a dent appears. Again, again, wailing on the thing, letting it all out. It becomes a sorry, battered thing, shrinking against my fury. I put my forehead against the cold metal, tears running down my flushed cheeks.