But then something slides over my right sock and shimmies up my calf. A hundred tiny legs tickle my skin. I close my eyes. Bite my tongue to keep from screaming. Lift my foot, bring it back, and fling it forward. The insect sails through the air and dives headfirst (or tail first, it’s impossible tell) into the pool. “Hello?” My eyes snap open. “Mother? Is that you?” Elinor’s voice wavers. She sniffs. She clearly doesn’t see us, and I understand why. She can’t look up. She’s too busy watching the critters, too focused on nudging them off the tube while trying to keep her balance—and avoid being eaten alive. “I’m so sorry,” Elinor cries softly. “It won’t happen again. I promise.” Promise. There’s that word again. Annika’s voice fills my head. I shake it out. I open my mouth to say hi, then think better of it. At the very least, Elinor’s rattled. At most, she’s terrified. Either way, she’s not expecting to see us there. And I don’t want that shock to make her lose her concentration and send her flying into the fray.
