Deep Water: Chapter 3

After a night of rough sleep, Douglas dragged himself out of bed to face the Wednesday. Tired as he felt, at least there was practice to look forward to after classes ended. The idea that he’d be eager to run around in heavy pads while the sun blazed overhead was one he’d have found laughable before, but now any sense of normalcy would be well-worth the soreness.

Breakfast consisted of a few hurried bites of peanut butter toast while he ran out the door, leaping onto his bike and riding swiftly toward school. It wasn’t that Douglas was that amped about learning, but yesterday’s clear sky had been replaced by heavy clouds. Knowing how he’d reacted to that slender puddle on Dipping Lane, Douglas didn’t want to imagine what his brain would do with a downpour.

Thankfully, the road remained dry as Douglas pedaled down the softly curving streets down to Middlelake High School, a name that was certainly accurate, if not creative. At least the middle school was named after the town’s founder, Olibram Havis. But the high school had come later, and the name was already in use, so it got the more obvious title.

Douglas crested to a halt by the bike rack, craning his neck to scan the parking lot for Skiddie’s truck. Skiddie always parked his massive vehicle diagonally across two spaces, which made it easy to spot. There was no sign of it yet though, which wasn’t shocking. Douglas usually arrived around the same time as his friends, except today he’d hauled ass.

Locking up his bike, Douglas noticed he actually felt surprisingly good for having just biked so hard. Usually, his cardio showed its weakness before his muscles, but maybe a near-month of rest had helped more than just his mind.

Douglas finished clicking the lock into place just as the sound of thunder exploded overhead. Seconds later, he felt the first drops start to hit his hands, the telltale splats from the pavement confirming that the clouds were at last unleashing their payloads.

The next thing Douglas knew, he was running. There was no conscious memory of leaping to his feet or picking a direction, like his body had omitted the brain from any input on those decisions. Not that he had an idea of where he was headed, only that there was a set of open doors in sight. A place to take shelter from the rain pelting his body, soaking into his clothes, trying to drag him-

Blasting past the doors, Douglas didn’t slow down. He bolted deeper into the building, further from the sound of the falling rain. There was no thought guiding him, it was all instinct. At the sound of rain, he’d simply turn away.

Finally, Douglas found somewhere silent. Even better, there were no windows! Douglas hurried inside and slammed the door shut, collapsing onto the ground. It wasn’t physical exhaustion, but mentally he felt squeezed dry.

He wasn’t sure if it was more fitting to break down crying or fall into mad laughter. A few drops of rain. That was all it took to send him racing for safety. All that bluster about getting things back to normal, and he couldn’t even stand outside in a light drizzle.

Why couldn’t his stupid brain just move on! It had been terrifying, yes, but the moment was over. Douglas was safe, on dry land, and in no danger from drowning unless he stared upward and opened his mouth like a goose. So why? Why was his brain constantly screaming that he was still in mortal peril?

“Hey so, there’s not really a non-awkward way to bring this up, but I was already having a panic attack in here.”

Douglas leapt at the sound of a voice, his already stretched nerves threatening to burst. Twisting about, he got a good look at his surroundings for the first time. Mop bucket, bottles with sprayers attached, gigantic rolls of rough paper towels. In his mad dash away from the sound of rain, he’s apparently ended up inside some janitorial closet. One that had been occupied.

Because as Douglas looked away from the mop bucket, he found a pair of glasses reflecting the faded-yellow light of the room’s single bulb. Large spectacles, hair in braids, the last detail was her over-stuffed backpack. Douglas finally recognized his unexpected roommate: Shanice, one of the heavy-studying kids who did extra clubs and honor roll and shit.

Seeing someone like her skipping class was so jarring, it momentarily distracted Douglas from the waves of panic that had been striking at his psyche since the first raindrop fell. “Sorry. First time, still new to things.”

“Ah, well you’ve got good instincts.” Shanice rapped on the wall, which produced a very muted thud. “One of the few places in the school with no windows and exceptional insulation. Used to be part of our music department, before our fine arts budget was gutted and the large space repurposed.”

“We still have a music club. They meet in a room near the gym,” Douglas pointed out. Slowly, the lack of storm sounds was allowing him to regain a mental balance, and having someone to talk with apparently helped.

“We have a club. We used to have a department that competed in national programs.” Shanice shook her head, giving him a longer look. “Not that I think such a valued member of our football team has had much experience with seeing programs be under-funded.”

Douglas didn’t have much of a rebuttal to that, so he instead shifted the subject. “Are you afraid of the water too?”

Again, she looked at him, but the glance this time was far more pointed than before. “Lightning, actually. I had occasion to see its effects up close once, and the sight left a… powerful impression.”

Despite the chill in her words, Douglas couldn’t help noticing that Shanice edged slightly closer before speaking again. “This fear of yours is a new one, it would have to be. There were three rain games last year that you played in. So what exactly do you mean, afraid of the water?”

A war within himself raged, as part of Douglas was irresistibly drawn to the idea of finally letting the truth out, telling someone what he was really going through. But despite how cut-off this closet felt, they were still connected to the real world. Once outside, his secrets could be spilled, and they hardly knew one another. There was no allegiance there, no trust built up.

Douglas opened his mouth to lie, and found his tongue unwilling to cooperate. Whatever else she might be, Shanice was someone driven to cower next to a mop bucket at the faintest hints of a storm.

She was as close to a kindred soul as he could hope for.

“I’ve been having these weird… visual anomalies,” Douglas admitted. “I keep thinking I see water that’s deeper and darker than it is, sometimes hear the flow of a stream that isn’t really there. It all started-”

“-after you fell into the inner lake at night, right?” Shanice wasn’t hiding her interest anymore, leaning eagerly forward, her glasses shining under the bulb’s direct light.

Every part of him had expected to be direct toward therapy, or assured with platitudes that things would be fine. That Shanice not only believe him, but seemed to know more… what exactly was going on?

“How do you know that?”

The smile upon hearing his implied confirmation left Douglas feeling a bit unsettled, even if it couldn’t compare the rain. “Because you’re not the first person this has happened to.”