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me.”
    “No, I’m not . . . ,” she says, frustration on her face. “Dammit, Gray, I’m trying to say I admire you for what you said about the slating, that I agree with you, that it’s not crazy to want to be like the birds, but above all, I’m trying to apologize for how I’ve judged you all these years. You’re different from Blaine but maybe not in a bad way. Maybe in a very good way, and I’m only seeing it for the first time.”
    She’s staring right into me with those eyes of hers, dark orbs as large as walnuts. Something in my chest surges. Suddenly it is very warm.
    “You want to go for a swim?” I ask, jumping from the rock. As much as I want to be near her, I need distance. It’s those words. What do they mean? Earlier today she despised me, thought me wicked for hitting Chalice, and now she admires me? All because I follow those feelings in my chest?
    “Swim?” she asks. “Right now? It’s not even that hot out.”
    “Suit yourself,” I say, tearing away from her and running down the flower-filled hillside. When I reach the edge of the lake, I turn back and can see Emma gazing down at me, perplexed. She’s probably still trying to figure out why her kind words sent me running.
    “You coming?” I yell back up the hill. She shrugs her shoulders and then hops from the rock.
    I pull off my boots and strip down to my drawers and am in the water before Emma is even halfway to the lake. The cold hits me savagely, biting at my lungs. It’s refreshing, though, and I feel like I can breathe again, Emma’s words falling aside as I kick into open water. I’m floating on my back, staring up at an impressive mass of clouds forming overhead, when something splashes beside me. I twist over and see Emma along the shore, tossing pebbles in my direction. She has waded in up to her shins, the hem of her white dress gathered in her arms.
    “Are you coming in or not?”
    She shakes her head. “It’s too cold.”
    “Wimp.”
    “Oh, please.”
    “Well, you are.” I swim in until I’m close enough to the shore to splash her with a well-placed kick. Water catches the front of her dress and her face goes wide with shock. It probably feels like ice to her.
    “Oh, you’re going to get it,” she shouts.
    “How? I’m already in.” I swim back toward the lake’s center.
    She’s fuming. She tugs her dress up over her shoulders and throws it aside before running and diving headlong into the water. She’s the better swimmer and catches up quickly. With a strong kick her hands are on my shoulders and pushing me beneath the surface. I’m too busy admiring how her undershirt clings to her body to prepare myself for the dunk. I resurface, sputtering and coughing.
    “Who’s the wimp now?” she asks. Her hair is wet and stringy, pieces of it clinging to her neck. It looks dark in the water, nearly as black as mine. I lunge at her, but she’s too quick. She darts away, slipping underwater and resurfacing behind me, where, to my embarrassment, she dunks me again. We continue like this for a while, me always trying to catch her and she easily avoiding my attacks. When I finally surrender, she’s dunked me four times and eluded me seven.
    “Fine, you win,” I admit as we climb out of the lake. “But I would slaughter you in an archery match.” I pull on my pants and use my shirt to dry my hair.
    “You hunt daily, Gray. That’s hardly fair.” She’s turned away from me, pulling her dress on. She shakes out her wet hair and braids it back.
    “It doesn’t have to be fair to be true.”
    “Fine. Teach me,” she retorts.
    “Really?”
    “Yes, teach me how to shoot and then we’ll have a match.” She spins to face me. There are wet patches where her dress meets the curved parts of her body.
    “Okay,” I agree. “Start tomorrow?”
    “Tomorrow.”
    We walk home in silence. I try to figure out what it all means, Emma being so nice, so playful. The last time the two of us got along so well was