PART 1 - Prologue

Elliot Hayes had been floating when he heard the news.

The pool float bumped against a tiled edge, propelling itself backward. Elliot dangled one leg off his PVC-made palanquin, kicking chlorine water into the air. The plastic squeaked and squealed as it dragged against slick skin. Echoes of Hawthorne University’s aspirational swim team bounced off the gymnasium’s tall ceiling, splattering sadly onto the damp floor. Elliot laughed at this. Then again, Elliot Hayes was a laugh dispensary.

He took a rip from his disposable, balmy hands tracing the cold, pink plastic case. The vape sputtered out a weak hiss. Vapor that once hinted at strawberries now tasted like battery acid. This shit sucked. He should quit soon. They didn’t even sell Elf Bars at the vape shop anyway. Something about supply chain issues, said Kyle, who seemed to be the only one ever working both the vape shop and the next-door Great Wall 2 Chinese restaurant. When his brain finally felt like lead, Elliot exhaled. The plume of stale smoke blocked his vision briefly before curling away. Out of the corner of his eyes, an indignant member of the swim team glared.

“Sorry,” Elliot mumbled, before taking another long rip.

His fingers hopped across the touchscreen’s keyboard. Here was something else worth a laugh. Here was another. A cute puppy had been diagnosed with cancer. Now Franklin the Lab’s mother must beg on the internet for donations. The fucking president back on some bullshit again. Oh, the yodeling kid. Elliot tapped twice, slid the pad of his thumb upward on the glass, laughed, tapped twice again. His vision blurred, the whites of his eye bloodshot, his undereyes swollen, eyelids threatening to droop closed. He was parched. Maybe he should drink the pool water.

No.

Bad idea.

Another hit of vape, then. Some burned bit of plastic made its way into his mouth. Elliot chewed on it for a while. Bitter vapor stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Something echoed again. The door, creaking open then slamming shut. The sound of footsteps on wet tiles squelched closer. Elliot half-paddled his foot so the float faced the door. It didn’t work. Ah, stupid. He could’ve just turned his head. He turned his head. The float spun the other way. Elliot dropped his other leg into the water to steer it back.

When Elliot faced the door again, he found Ekene Ahmadi sitting at the edge of the swimming pool. He was gripping the bullnose tiles, torso tilted forward as though he might fall in. His knuckles paled. Waves of chlorine lapped at his submerged legs. Ekene didn’t seem to be aware that his shoes and pants were now drenched, or if he knew this, he made no effort to rectify it. Elliot, floating, still, found this situation to be worth a laugh.

Ekene sat there for a while, just staring, while his clothes soaked through and Elliot tried not to fall off his float.

“I guess you haven’t heard, then,” Ekene had said. His words skipped on the water’s surface before sinking.

Another video of the yodeling kid looped back to the beginning. Elliot scrolled down.

“Oh,” he stopped laughing.

Ekene seemed serious.

“Heard what?”