Dee didn’t know how long she stood there, time had expanded and collapsed. When at last she opened her eyes the water was smooth and empty. Maybe they were gone. But maybe they were writhing about her arms and legs out of sight, under the water. She seemed to feel their touch all over her body. She began to shiver uncontrollably, head baking in the bright day. Her legs buckled and she sank and gasped, mouth filling with tin. She turned and waded for the shore, water grabbing her, slowing her to a deathly pace. She could still feel them garlanding her limbs.

Dee reached the shore. She plowed out of the water and the weight of her body descended on her again. She staggered and fell. The sand was good underneath, against her side. She made herself into a ball and cried, unobserved, among the running sunburned kids.

Dee slowly picked her way back through blankets and umbrellas. The air was hot with sugar and the sand sucked at her ankles. She didn’t have her watch on but she knew she’d been gone longer than half an hour. All she wanted now was the sanctuary of her family. Her mother would shudder, cry out and take Dee in her arms. Lulu would look scared and excited at the same time and ask over and over, How many snakes? What kind? And her father would be furious, ask what the hell the lifeguard had been doing, and Dee would bask in the warmth of his anger, knowing she was cared for. It would become a story, one they all told in hushed voices sometimes. Do you remember when Dee Dee got attacked by the snakes? The story would live outside her then, and no longer run cold in her bones.

Even from a distance, Dee could see that that her parents were freaking out. Mom was screaming and Dad was shouting. Two lifeguards were there, and other men talking into radios. Dee cringed. How embarrassing. She was only a little late, for God’s sake.

As she came closer, she heard her father saying, “I just fell asleep for a minute. A minute.”

Dee came up to the blanket and sat down in the shade. “Mom?” she said. “I’m sorry…”

“Quiet, Dee, please. Your father is trying to make these people do something.” Her mother’s mouth trembled. Mascara ran down her face like black blood. “Lulu!” She stood suddenly and screamed it out. Heads nearby turned. “Lulu!” her mother screamed again.

“She has short hair,” Dad is saying over and over. “People often think she’s a boy. She won’t grow it.”