How to Breathe Underwater

The instructor begins the countdown. I grip the bench. The flippers on my feet are cold and awkward. Somewhere at the other end of the pool, my brother Sage is watching. 'Go!' cries the instructor, and I push back off the bench. There is a whirling moment as the high-up natatorium ceiling flies by, and then I plunge backward into the cold shock of water and sink almost immediately. My arms and legs go numb with panic, and my mouth fills with the bleach-taste of pool water. It feels like I'm going down to that place where I was before, the cold dark pond on that November night . . .