Ryan had two snorkels, and he was giving Kimmy and Alex their second lesson of the day, since their earlier attempt to learn in the choppy ocean had been disastrous. The girls giggled at each other’s appearance in the full gear, goggles oversized and steamed up, the mouthpieces stretching their small mouths into cartoonish rectangles.

Ryan taught them how to paddle about, adjusting the pipe to the level and current of the water, to keep from getting a mouthful of it.

In the corner of the pool, Rae tipped her chin up to observe the sky and gazed in various directions, as though identifying constellations, thinking that Ryan would probably find this pose impressive. She recalled their conversation at the dinner table—fake moon, brainwashing. What was it that Ryan said he liked thinking about? Mysteries? She could be a mystery.

Alex and Kimmy slithered around the pool like bottom feeders, their ragged nervous breathing audible and mildly disturbing through the pipes.

Ryan dunked, then rose from the water and slicked his black hair back from his face. The golden lighting that rose from beneath the surface was majestic across his wet chest and face. He looked at Rae. “Is your swimsuit made out of jeans?”

“No,” Rae said, her voice coming out shrill with nerves. “It’s just made to look like that. It’s normal swimsuit material, see?” She snapped one of the spaghetti straps to demonstrate.

“Nice,” Ryan said. “You wanna give the snorkel a shot once one of them’s had their fill?”

“Oh, well . . .” Rae paused. “No, I’ve used one before, I already know how.”

“Gotcha.” Ryan dove back into the water.

This was not true—Rae had never snorkeled before—but she didn’t want to put that goofy mask on her face, and she didn’t particularly want to get her hair wet.

Ryan stayed underwater for quite a while, and when he reappeared at the surface, he slapped his chest, took a few heaving breaths, and said to Rae, “Do you know how long it’s possible to hold your breath for?”

“Hmm.” Rae pictured the tunnel her family had driven through that morning, with Kimmy insisting that everyone try to hold their breath for the entire length of it. Rae hadn’t participated at all, Lisa gave up about ten seconds in, and Kimmy and Scott both claimed to have made it the whole way, gasping for air when the car emerged at the mouth of the tunnel and sunlight flooded them. Of course, it was obvious to Rae they had both cheated and breathed through their noses.

“Maybe two minutes?” Rae guessed.

“Times ten,” Ryan said.

Rae stared at him. “Someone held their breath twenty minutes?”

Ryan nodded. “Twenty-one is the world record. They say you pretty much train yourself to go to sleep, like hypnosis, to get yourself relaxed and your heart rate low enough.”

“Wow,” Rae marveled, pleased that Ryan had chosen to share this fact and this conversation with her and her alone, as Kimmy and Alex were still both fully submerged and out of earshot.