Free Drowning Is Inevitable by Shalanda Stanley Page B

smiled instead of answering.
    â€œHow did you get your black eye?” I asked Max.
    He didn’t answer. The questions stopped. My hands kept going to my stomach, trying to keep it quiet. Maggie noticed.
    â€œGrab my purse,” she said to Jamie. With one hand on the steering wheel, she opened the purse, revealing an assortment of candy bars and fruit. Without explaining, she divvied up the loot. I got a peach and a Snickers bar. I held the peach gingerly.
    â€œDid you buy this stuff at that gas station?” I asked.
    â€œUm, that’s where I got it.” She smiled, proud of herself. “We gotta eat.”
    I was hungry enough to be proud of her, too. Maybe this was why Maggie wasn’t worried about gas; maybe we were going to steal that, too. I wondered how that would work. I thought this must have been what Deputy Daniel meant when he visited our class in fifth grade to preach against the life of crime. It was the best peach I ever ate.
    We drove on, one town bleeding into the next. It was well into the night when we got to Maurepas, and it was no time before she parked the truck on the shore of the lake. It was the only vehicle in sight. Without saying anything Maggie stepped out of the truck and peeled off her clothes, making her way toward the water. This was normal for Maggie. She splashed in the water. Jamie stepped out of the truck, mumbled something about relieving himself, and walked toward the woods, leaving Max and me alone in the truck.
    It was quiet for a long minute. “I got in a fight with Lyle outside of Magnolia’s last night,” he said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt’s stupid.”
    â€œWas it about me? Did he say something?”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter.” Max reached up and touched the corner of his bruised eye. “He only got one in. It really wasn’t his fault. I’d gotten into it with my dad earlier. I was looking for a fight.”
    â€œWhat did you and your dad fight about?”
    â€œHe thinks I’m pissing away my future. He said I needed to stop dicking around and take life seriously. Whatever the hell that means. I told him I was trying to be good, to make up for what I did. He said I had to try harder, that my behavior wasn’t good for my future career. I said some things, some below-the-belt things. So did he. And then I tore out of there. I got to Magnolia’s and Lyle asked where you were. That’s all he did, but I didn’t like how he said your name, and I was pissed you weren’t with me. I sort of lost it and lit into him. I’m pretty sure I would’ve been arrested for assault if you hadn’t called.”
    I crawled into his lap and kissed the side of his bruised eye.
    â€œWhat am I going to do with you?” I whispered.
    He shrugged.
    â€œWhat am I going to do with you?” he whispered back, pushing the hair behind my ear. “You look like you got in your own fight.” He ran his fingers across the scratches on my legs, then turned my head so he could get a better look at the one on my face. His lips rested on my temple, and I closed my eyes and wished I could go back two days, to when one of my biggest problems was that he loved me too much.
    He leaned down to get something from under the seat and pulled out a bottle. This was a new nightly custom, since the wreck. He never drank from it, just held it, testing himself.
    â€œYou want some?” he asked. “Just because I stopped drinking, doesn’t mean you have to.”
    He unscrewed the lid and lifted the bottle to my lips. I knew he needed me to take the drink as much as I needed him not to. We balanced each other out, a screwed-up yin and yang. I opened my mouth, and he poured a little in. Some dribbled down my chin, and his mouth went to it.
    â€œThat doesn’t count,” he said.
    I took the bottle from him, and his fingers tightened on my body. I brought it to my mouth and took a long gulp. I felt his