Aside from the dark circles under my eyes, the only residue from the last nightmare is an occasional vision of the corpse hands wrapping around my feet. I shake it away. It’s quiet this early: no kids, no adults. The smooth surface of the water reflects the gnarled branches of the oak trees, the peaked tops of the spruces, the thin lines of the reeds, and a silhouette of me. It gives the illusion that I could dive into an alternate world, maybe one where I could live with Drea and her mother, where Ryan and I dated, Mandy didn’t exist, where I never had nightmares, where Peter was always in a good mood, and Luke was Luke but . . . better. One. Two. Three. My feet spring from the board. My hands, in a diamond over my head, cut through the air, then the lake’s surface. Water so cold it’s shocking sends my heart racing. I surface, brushing my stray hairs away from my eyes before going into a front crawl. Long, powerful strokes, my legs kicking behind me, propelling me forward.
