I pushed through the people until I came to the front of the group. Jackson Holt was toeing the water with his bare foot. “You want to race me, Moore?”

I groaned and almost walked away. Jackson was one of my least favorite people ever. He was so . . . middle school. Once, in the cafeteria, he pretended to be hurt just so Mindy Halpburn, who happened to be walking by, would stop and help him. When she realized it was a joke, she slapped him and the whole room laughed. And this wasn’t even the most childish thing he’d ever done. Yet everyone seemed to love him, in the way they loved puppy videos or chocolate—they couldn’t get enough.

Those thoughts kept me from fleeing. Maybe it was time to humble Jackson a bit. Make him realize he didn’t always have to be the center of attention, loved by all. He wasn’t an athlete. I could win a swimming race against him easy, sore shoulders or not.

“Are you sure you’re okay being beaten by a girl?” I said softly.

He stripped off his shirt, his toned chest making me think twice about his athletic abilities, and jumped in, jeans and all. When he surfaced, a playful gleam shone in his eyes. The gleam that shone there most of the time. “The water’s great.”

I stepped out of my shoes, then eyed the island. Did I really need to do this? My skin buzzed to life, telling me I did, in fact, need to do this. I pulled off my sweats and waded into the water beside Jackson. Unlike the school pool, which was heated, the chill of the lake immediately sucked the air from my lungs. The water smelled like mud, fish, and mildew. I almost got back out.

“Can’t pass up a competition, can you?”

Someone standing above us called, “On your mark, get set, go.”

I took off, not knowing if Jackson followed. Not really caring. My shoulders ached a bit, but I didn’t press them and the more I swam the more they loosened up. It was weird swimming in silence. I was used to having my music on for everything but races. It gave me a rhythm to swim to and kept my head clear of unwanted memories.

About halfway through the swim, I felt a movement by my foot and then suddenly it was yanked backward. I went under for a second and came up coughing. Jackson treaded water next to me. It was nearly black in the middle of the lake, but I could see his teeth glowing with a smile. He smiled way too much.

“I thought you were going to try, Moore. Make this hard on me.”

“What?”

“I thought you were on the swim team.”

I coughed again and wondered what the best way to dunk him would be.