Hello.

After years of reading anonymously, I get started. I hope you like it. - Le Sac Bleu.

I dive. Immediately, the water makes me forget everything.

Especially the silhouette that is the lifeguard's cabin.

It's fabulous, the water. It looks like its liquid, when in reality it's between a liquid and a solid- sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's fluid. A mean friend. In reality, water is caresses on my skin.

My arms plunge, pushing the water, my feet beat vigorously: I cause more foam than a speedboat in a cove. I breath every three shots, in brief breaths, with my head to one side.

I am seventeen years old and still going strong.

And I want to kill Bella Swan, incidentally, every day for 10 years. I saw her pass as I got out of the shower: she was going into the lifeguard's room, probably to go and hit some charcuterie in the fridge. Since Emmett started here, there are turkey sandwiches in every fridge that crosses his path.

Just seeing his face, I want to slap him.

I reach the end of the pool. Rolling, casting, and again my gestures are refined in a precise and powerful crawl.

On the edge of the pool, I see Swan passing in the other direction. Barefoot, in shorts. In the sweltering heat, I have the impression that she is redder than usual. Like every Wednesday she comes out of her training session. I'm not surprised Alice isn't here: she was never a fan of swimming pools.

My nose clip is too tight. I have a little pain. My cap chokes my hair.

Nothing is going well today.

It's because of Swan. Naturally.

It's always because of Swan.

"Cullen! Have you become a grandma? You're ten laps back. Go faster than that!"

Emmett is sometimes a bit big-headed, but he's good at what he does: he's already coached me for a lot of competitions, and I know he's making me progress. Deep down, I like it.

I think.

And then when you know his sister, you wonder why he is not worse.

Basically, he is a saint.

I grit my teeth and touch the edge of my pelvis.

Roll, cast, raise your arms, and here we go again.

My muscles start pulling. The pace imposed on me by my coach is awful. I bet Emmett is looking for revenge from last time, when I screwed him in the water, and he had his phone in his pocket.

Not my fault he was too close to the pool. It was too tempting.

I accentuate my pushes, I run in the water. My arms soften. Finally, my swim becomes enjoyable.

I am a fish.

I think back to the Atlantic, where we went to Santa Monica in the last summer vacation. Alice had convinced the parents to leave us alone for at least one night on the beach. You have to believe that my parents trusted my sister... They ignored the bottles of beer and vodka hidden in Alice's best friend's backpack. We do not rummage through guest's belongings, especially when they are almost twenty years old and objectively, we can no longer tell them much.

"Cullen! Outside!"

I dive, snorkel under the three water lines that separate me from the edge of the pool. I lifted myself out, with the muscular strength of my arms.

Emmett's huge feet taunt me with his sudden flip flops.

The guy thinks he's stylish.

"Thirty pumps," he says.

"You're boring," I replied.

"I will teach you how to go on vacation."

I wasn't on vacation; I was on an internship. I finish high school at the end of the year and apart from swimming, I still don't know what to do. So, I inquire.

I like to swim, but from there to make it my job...

But Emmett doesn't need to know.

I sit on the ground and begin the series of thirty he asked for.

Seriously.

My arms hurt too much.

When I finally finish and it's dark, I only have one desire: a tray of fries and my bed.

Okay, that's two desires.

I come out of the locker room, and I see her.

"What are you doing here, Swan?"

Every time she waits for Emmett. The brood must be finishing up tying the water lines. Oddly, he took pity on me and didn't force me to turn the reel wheel.

I never understood how a tall, muscular guy could ever have such a small, skinny sister. But hey, the laws of genetics can not be controlled.

She stares at me with her black eyes the ones she usually reserves for the Quilettes to make ends meet.

"It's you I wanted to see."

She narrows her eyes and tilts her head, as if thinking about the best way to kill me.

I'm used to this look. I have the same when I see her.

And for her I have already decided: death by accidental fall into the sewers of Seattle. Much less humiliating than those of Forks but you have to know how to take into account the depths of the pipes, the openings in the bitumen, the manholes...

"I'm pregnant."