She's leaning against the door to the locker rooms, her eyes drifting over the empty pool, watching the way the early morning sun reflects on the water. It's peaceful here, this early in the morning and she's managed to convince Shane (on most days, Auggie on the few Shane has been 'busy') to come in well before class just for moments like this.

Karma hadn't realized how much quiet she didn't have in her life, not until she actually did and now she can't believe she never missed it. What with the drug bust drama with her folks and living in her backyard (a situation she still can't quite bring herself to be even a little OK with) and the Amy-Liam thing and then the Amy-Reagan thing and then the Liam-Sasha thing and the Amy-Felix thing…

She never quite saw, at least not from the inside, how noisy everyone else's things (and let's face it, they were almost all someone else's things) really were.

Amy's been gone exactly two weeks and she still hasn't replied to Karma's one ill-advised (and still secret from Shane and Reagan and still totally understandable) text. Karma's not surprised, not really. She was, at first. She feels like she went through all the stages of grief over that message in just a few hours.

Denial: Amy just didn't get the message. It must have gotten lost somewhere, out there, on the WiFi and it'll show up, randomly, like on a Tuesday a month from now, and Amy will totally get it and reply immediately, because that's what Amy does. At least that's what she does when it comes to Karma because they're soulmates and they're going to be together (in one way or another) forever.

Anger: Fuck her. Just… Fuck. Her. She left. She left. And now she can't even be bothered to reply to one fucking text message. Just a simple reply. Karma's not even worth that anymore, clearly, so you know what? Fuck. Her.

Then there were the few minutes (and hour and a half or so, a good hour of which she spent dialing Amy's number and then clearing it and then dialing it again and she's still amazed she didn't accidentally call at least once) when anger and denial seemed to sort of merge and Karma was sure - fucking sure - that the message had actually gotten through. It was there, sitting on Amy's phone just waiting for her to find it. But Lauren… of course, Lauren… got to it first.

Karma knew Lauren had seen them, behind the tree, hiding and watching as the bus pulled away. She could have told Amy, but she didn't. She could have made them stop the bus and made Amy get off and face them, but she didn't. She could have told Amy there was a text message on her phone, but she didn't and she probably erased it and that's why Amy never even sent back so much as a word in reply.

It was a messy ninety minutes and Karma doesn't like thinking about it.

After denial and anger (and denial+anger… danger? Yeah, that sounds about right.) came the next stage. Bargaining: Except Karma didn't know who to bargain with or what to offer. A promise that if Amy replied she would leave her alone for the rest of the summer? Yeah, like that would work. Promising to be the kind of friend Amy needed, if only she could hear from her, just once?

If she could have done that, Karma knew, Amy wouldn't have left in the first place.

So she skipped bargaining, mostly, not wanting to make a deal or a promise she couldn't keep, not when it came to Amy, not anymore. And she threw herself headlong into depression, basically belly flopping into it. Karma had never been depressed, but she knew about sad and she knew there was a world of difference, a world she wasn't particularly interested in exploring so she settled for a good few hours of sobbing into her pillow and cursing the day she'd ever thought of faking it.

Though she didn't curse it as much as she maybe should. Because some good had come of it, right? Amy had found out who she was, or at least gotten herself on the road to doing it. And while she and Liam hadn't ended well, Karma was of the firm belief that everyone needed a first love, even one that ended poorly. And Amy and Lauren were closer and now she and Shane were getting to be friends and maybe, just maybe faking it hadn't been such a bad idea.

Rationalization was totally one of the stages, right?

Or, maybe, that was just the last stage.

Acceptance.

Amy was gone. She was coming back (Karma refused to believe otherwise) but she was gone for now. She had her journey to take and Karma had hers and while their roads would cross again, this was a time for each of them to walk alone.

Or with Lauren. Or Shane, depending on which of them you were talking about. And possibly with Reagan. And let's not forget Auggie (and, increasingly, Karma couldn't).

Maybe not entirely alone but not with each other and that was kind of the point, the one Karma needed to accept.

So she did. Eventually. Sort of. In her own Karma-esque, 'I'm not gonna think about it or dwell on it and I'll only check my phone to see if she's replied once a day and that's as accepting as I'm getting so deal with it' way.

And if showing up at the pool a good hour before training starts and just sitting in the peace and the quiet (or as much of either of those as as anyone gets with Shane around) helps her to 'accept', then that's what she does.

Even if she does have to lock her phone in a locker and make Shane swear (to his great confusion) not to let her go check it until their day is done.

It's two weeks to the day and Karma's sitting by the pool, just her and Shane and the pair of Mocha Frappes he picked up for them on the way in.

"It's… different," she says in between slow sips. She says 'different' but she thinks 'weird' but after her chat with Reagan a couple weeks ago, she's avoiding that word.

Even if it is weird.

"What is?" Shane says, checking his drink. "I told the guy to make them the same as last time, but he was kinda eye fucking me at the time so…"

Karma slips her shades down her nose and glares at him. "Not the drinks," she says. "This. Being here. You. Me. It's like… it's a whole…"

Shane settles down at the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in the water. That's a no-no, but so is the coffee and he's pretty sure Karma's not ratting him out for either. "I swear, Ashcroft," he says. "If you start singing A Whole New World…" He sets his coffee down and pantomimes chucking her into the pool. "Just cause I'm gay doesn't mean I love show tunes."

Karma drops down next to him, bumping her shoulder against his. "Aladdin was a movie first," she says. "And it's not a whole new world." She lets one foot graze across the top of the water, watching the tiny ripples spread out from her toes. "The world is the same," she says. "It's us."

She says 'us' but she thinks 'me' and she doesn't know, not exactly, what to think about that.

Neither of them speaks for a bit and Karma notices, in her head, that the silence isn't… well… it's not comfortable, but it isn't uncomfortable either. It isn't like it was with Amy. They could just be in the same place at the same time and never need to say a word and both be as happy as could be.

With Amy, Karma knows, she could just start talking again, randomly, jumping into the middle of a conversation she was having with herself and Amy would pick it up without missing a beat, almost like she'd been having the same chat in her own head. She and Shane aren't like that, not yet at least, and she kinda doubts they ever will be.

They're different. And yes, a little weird.

"I miss her, you know?" she says and there's that jump, that random hop into a conversation in her own mind (because every conversation in Karma's head is about Amy) and she sees Shane's head snap around out of the corner of her eye. She knows he's shocked and she sort of doesn't blame him.

In the two weeks they've been doing this… whatever this is… they've mentioned Amy twice (and by they, she means him) and both of those were accidental. Shane knows Karma talks to Reagan about Amy and he thinks that's good and bad

(misery loves company and all but too much misery makes for bad company)

but this is the first time Karma has brought Amy up with him.

"I miss her," Karma says again and she's not sure why she's talking about this now, but she is and so she might as well go with it. "But it's easier than I thought it would be." She splashes her foot against the water and takes a long sip, the mocha burns against her tongue - Shane always gets them too hot - and she winces. "That's a lie," she says, taking a deep breath and letting the cool air soothe her tongue. "It's harder. So much fucking harder."

Shane nods and Karma knows he understands, in a way. Amy left him too and while that's not quite the same, she knows Liam's gone too and, in so many ways, Liam is the Amy to Shane's Karma (and if that's not the most bizarre analogy ever, she doesn't know what is) and Karma knows he misses Liam almost as much as she misses Amy.

Sometimes - though not as often as a friend probably should - she thinks about asking Shane how he's holding up with that. But she's afraid that might lead to talking about Liam and as much as she doesn't (usually) want to talk about Amy?

She wants to talk about Liam even less.

"I miss her and it's hard," Karma says. "And sometimes… there's times when I don't…" The door opens behind them and a pair of the more senior trainer lifeguards come out, but they head to the deep end of the pool without even acknowledging the two rookies. "You know how people say they don't even know what to do with themselves?"

Shane nods though he's only paying half attention because one of the trainers has shucked his shirt and my God…

"That's me," Karma says. "There's times I just sit out back of the house or, if Felix's dad isn't around, in my room and I just sit there. I don't know what to do."

Shane tunes back in and looks at her. He's known Karma for more than a year but sometimes he thinks he doesn't really know her at all. She's Amy's bff and Liam's on and off, and the girl who lied and the girl whose parents sold weed.

In the last two weeks, he's spent more time with Karma than any of those girls. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he kinda likes her and feels kinda bad for her (even if most of it is her own doing, but Shane understands - better than most - how easily your own doing can happen.)

"Sometimes," she says, staring down at the lid of her coffee cup. "I don't even know if I'm a person. Like, what do I do without Amy to do it with me?"

Shane lifts his feet from the water and pulls his knees up in front of him. "You're a person, Karma," he says (and yes, he finds that as odd to say as she probably does to hear). "You two were just always oddly… attached."

It's a nice way of saying codependent, overly involved, way too close and yes he knows that describes him and Liam too, but they're not talking about that right now.

"It's just gonna take some time," Shane says. "Time and adjustment and learning to… be unattached. You can't expect it to happen overnight. It's a work in progress." He pats her on the shoulder (awkwardly) and tries to be reassuring. "I'm sure Amy's as disoriented by the whole thing as you are."

Karma nods because that makes sense - all the sense in the world, really - but she doesn't buy it, not even for a second. For starters, wherever she is, Amy has Lauren. But she also has herself and Karma knows that Amy's always been the one.

The one that could survive, that could stand, that could make it on her own.

The only person who didn't believe that was Amy.

"Maybe," Shane says, "the trick isn't figuring out what you do without Amy." The trainers dive into the deep end of the pool and Shane is - momentarily - distracted by the sight of abs and thighs and incredibly defined arms in flight, sailing out over the water. "Maybe," he says, shaking his head as he watches the trainer break the surface of the water, "the trick is figuring out what you do."

Karma nods. That's deep. That's powerful. That's… "What?"

"Everything you've ever done has been with Amy or about Amy or dragged Amy along like she was your sidekick," Shane says. "Your plans were about making you two popular. Your dreams are about a life you two share together." He pauses for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of what he's about to say.

Pro: Maybe he gets through and helps Karma find whatever it is she's looking for.

Con: She pushes him in the pool and they spend the rest of the summer back at each other's throats.

Fuck it.

"About the only thing you've done on your own," he says, "was Liam. And you even pulled her into that. Literally and metaphorically."

Shane watches as Karma's face rolls through about a thousand emotions and, as discreetly as possible, he moves his coffee cup away from the edge of the pool. If he's going in, he can at least make sure he doesn't fuck up the water too.

The two trainers are up and out of the water and Shane's eyes dart back and forth between them and Karma, them and Karma, them and Karma, his brain (look at Karma) and his… not brain (look at those legs) (and thighs) (and the ass…) waging a war for control. She follows his eyes and turns, watching as first one, then the other trainer scampers up the ladder and races off the high dive, hurtling into the air and splashing through the water below.

The locker room doors open again and the rest of their class starts to file out onto the desk, but Karma barely notices. She's only got eyes for one thing.

That thing she's gonna do.

She's gonna make that board her bitch.

Karma's first try on the high dive comes two weeks to the day after Amy leaves and it's honestly the worst moment of her life.

At least it wasn't with Amy.

OK, second worst.

The track is just a loop…

OK, third worst.

I love you too, Amy. Just not -

OK. Fourth. Maybe. Top five, probably. Top ten, for sure.

And maybe it should be higher what with all the other worsts it's making her think about and fuck all she should really not be thinking about all those things (all those Amy things) when she's so high off the ground and already feeling dizzy.

Maybe, Karma thinks, in hindsight, saying she was going to make the board her bitch, even if it was only in her head? Maybe, that wasn't the best choice. She wonders, not (too) seriously, if somehow the board heard her and resented the suggestion. Logically, she knows it didn't - couldn't - but logic deserted her four rungs ago and she swears the board wasn't this high when she looked at before.

From the ground. The place she'd desperately like to be. But the only way to get there is to move and moving isn't exactly - at all - something she'll be doing any time soon, even though she knows they're all watching her. The entire class is down there (not that she can see them cause… down there), all her fellow trainees and their instructors and they're all just staring.

Karma knows it then, in that moment, frozen on the fucking ladder. Even if she conquers the damn thing, even if she somehow makes it to the top and jumps off today (not fucking likely) or tomorrow (equally not fucking likely) or next week or… you know… sometime in 2017?

This is what they'll remember. This is what will follow her around (or follow her and faking it and the drug bust and the threesome and the pool kiss and - fuck all - she's got a lot of shit tailing her) and this is going to define her.

So, it turns out, that's what she does.

She fucks up just as bad - and just as publicly - without Amy as she did with her.

"You ever have one of those dreams where you're falling, like down a flight of stairs or something?"

The voice startles her (but not nearly enough to loosen her death grip on the ladder) and she rolls her eyes in its direction, toward the smaller board next to her. "Auggie?"

"Hey," he says, grinning that Auggie grin (with all the teeth and the way the corners of his mouth actually seem to reach up to his eyes and not in the creepy way that sounds). "Fancy meeting you here."

She wants to laugh and not just because it would be the polite thing to do but because he's here and not down there and she really doesn't want him to leave her there. But she just can't bring herself to do it, mostly because she's afraid to do anything that might shake her off the ladder.

And, truthfully, it wasn't that funny.

But he's trying so serious points for effort.

"Did you ever have one of those dreams?" he asks. "You know, the ones where you get that feeling in the pit of your stomach, like the weightlessness of it as you drop?"

Yes, she's had those dreams, and yes, she's had that feeling, and really? Is talking about falling and dropping and dying (and no, he didn't mention that part, but it was so implied) really the best plan right fucking now?

"And then you wake up right before you hit," Auggie says. He's standing on the board next to hers, bringing him just about eye level with her on the ladder. "I fucking hate those dreams," he says. "Know why?"

Because they make you feel like you're falling? And going to land painfully? And possibly - probably - die?

All of the above?

"They make falling seem bad," he says. "Like it's the worst and scariest thing in the whole world. The thing that will kill you."

Karma manages to turn her head toward him and there's this look in his eyes, like he knows what he's talking about. Or maybe they're just really pretty eyes and they're totally taking her mind of her own imminent doom.

"It's not?" she whispers and then clears her throat so she can fucking talk. "It isn't the thing that will kill you?"

"I took swim lessons here," he says. "When I was eight. We'd just moved to town and my mother thought it would be a good way for me to meet some of the kids before school started."

Karma nods. Most of the kids from Hester took lessons here at one point or another, her and Amy included.

"You were here," he says (and there's that grin again), "in one of the other classes. You were a guppie, like me."

She rolls her eyes at the name, remembering how it was such a big deal to all the kids who was a guppie and who was a minnow and who made it all the way to trout.

"I remember you were a pretty good swimmer," Auggies says. "Or at least I thought you were, but that might have just been cause you were so noticeable. You know? The hair?"

Karma groans and leans her head against the ladder. That was the summer she convinced Molly to let her 'highlight' her hair. It was supposed to make it brighter, a little summery.

She turned out looking like a fire hydrant.

"We had to jump off this board to pass," Auggie says, nodding at the one he's standing on. "You didn't do it."

"No," Karma says. She smiles at the memory, not of her not jumping. But of Amy refusing to do it either, out of solidarity. "Amy wouldn't let me fail class alone," she says (only partially cursing herself for bringing up Amy in front of Auggie.) "She would've passed easily. She was a hell of a swimmer and if she just hadn't held herself back…"

"I remember Amy too," Auggie says. "I think it would be pretty damn hard to remember you and not her." There's something in his voice that makes Karma think maybe he could and maybe he'd want to. "And I don't really know her," he says, "but I'm pretty sure Amy never once thought she was holding herself back. Not for you."

Karma blinks and lets her eyes drift (out and over his head, definitely not down) and wishes.

She so wishes that were true.

"I didn't pass either," he says and Karma's eyes drop back to his face. "I got out on the board, took one look down and…" He laughs and it sounds so… different to Karma (not just different from Amy's). There's no hidden pain, there's no subtext of irony.

There's just a laugh.

She kinda likes it.

"I took one look down," Auggie says, "and I dropped to the board and wrapped both my legs and arms around it and I refused to move." He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. "It took two of the lifeguards ten minutes to pry me loose. And when they did… I kicked and screamed and thrashed so hard… I fell."

Karma's eyes grow wide. "Fell?"

Auggie nods. "Yeah. Right off the end of the board. Fully belly flop right into the deep end."

She winces at the thought, can almost feel the sting of the water against her chest.

"I still didn't pass," he says. "I had to retake the class the next session and when it came time to jump?"

"Lemme guess," Karma says. "You did it. Perfect dive?"

He shakes his head and grins that grin. "Fuck no. I didn't even make it up the ladder cause I remembered. That shit hurt."

Karma does laugh this time and she only tightens her grip on the ladder a little bit as she shakes.

"It took me two more sessions," Auggie says. "But I did it. Finally. Just like you did."

She did. But only when they let her and Amy jump together.

"And that time, the fall didn't hurt," he says. "That's when I learned." He holds out one hand to her.

"Learned what?"

"The fall can't hurt you," he says. "Not if you don't let it."

She reaches out, slowly, and takes his hand, but then she hears them, down on the deck, watching her and she tries to pull her hand back, but Auggie won't let her.

"It can't hurt you, Karma, not if you don't let it," he says. "And them? Everyone of them is watching you and talking about you and you know what?" She looks at him, at her hand in his, out in the air between the boards. "Every one of them has their own ladder they can't climb," Auggie says. "But not every one of them has someone to help them back down."

He reaches out and she takes his other hand and then she's floating - just for a moment - and then she's on the board with him, their hands still clasped together and pressed between them.

"You were totally just flirting with me," Karma says.

Auggie shrugs. "Maybe," he says, but his eyes don't look half as confident-slash-cocky as his words sound. "Did it work?"

Karma smiles at him as lets go of his hands and takes one step back, onto the much lower and much safer ladder. "Ask me again," she says. "When we're on solid ground."

He smiles back at her - all teeth and dancing eyes - and Karma realizes she has no idea what she's doing but she's kind liking figuring it out.

Maybe that's what she does.