She took the plunge into the black water late that summer night, and she was gone. One moment she was there, and then she wasn't. She dove in a graceful arc. She stayed under for much longer than I thought she'd last. I swear, choir had made that girl grow a third lung. She came up in the middle of the lake. The stars were shining brightly in the rippling water. The light of a lantern spread across the lake, lighting up her figure. Her sopping wet reddish-brown hair looked black, and her pale, petite figure floated in the water. She was giggling and calling to me. I knew she wanted me to come to her, but I wouldn't. It was too dangerous to swim without supervision I told myself. It was too gross. It was too something. I didn't want to admit to myself that I was too selfish, too scared.
There was a large shadowed outline headed toward her. It was going so fast, and neither she nor I could react. She screamed in terror, and the lights in the house flickered on. I could feel myself crumbling. I only saw her. Time seemed to slow down, as if it couldn't help showing me the whole scene in detail so I'd wake up crying for months on end. The object gurgled ahead, oblivious to it all, leaving a trail of bubbles.
I was in the water. I forgot about the oh-so disgusting water with the fish pee and the musky just waiting to attack me. All that mattered was the girl, the one that wasn't coming up. It was the fastest swim I'd made in my life, and I dove. I dove for what seemed like twenty feet, and I came up with nothing but a lungful of stale air. I gasped for air, air that she'd never breathe.
It was unreal. I floated for what seemed like eternity. I was unaware of the sirens in the distance or the wails of a brokenhearted mother. I eventually climbed the ladder in a daze. My parents had come here at some point. My mother wrapped a towel around my trembling body; however, I was not shivering because of the cold or the wind that'd picked up.
My mother pecked my cheek, and her long blonde hair tickled my jaw line. I looked into her eyes. I could see how my father had fallen for her; the youthful beauty of her teens still lay in the depths of her eyes, the sway of her walk. She murmured in concern, "What were you thinking swimming out here all alone? And with some girl? What were you thinking? Hello? Kai?"
My father shook his head. He tapped his foot, filling the silence that I knew he hated. He stood over me protectively, massive and bulky. He could see how obviously freaked I was; why couldn't she? I stared off. Mrs. Zain was sobbing into Mr. Zain's striped button down shirt. He was just staring into space. He was a silent statue gazing into the night, staring it down.
I glared into the rippling water. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. The sun would rise, and I'd wake up, get on the bus, and go to homeroom. I'd find her with her nose stuffed in a book. She'd look up and smile at me. JUST LIKE ALWAYS. But the sun did rise, and I had to face reality. This was not a dream. It was now May 26, 2009. My name is Kai Samuel Armstrong, and the girl I thought was my soul mate, Winifred Ruth Zain, is dead.