Side story - Nia

1988

She wrapped the towel closer to her trembling shoulders. She hated the smell of chlorine. It reminded her of false cleanliness. Artificial mimics of smells always made her uncomfortable.

Clarissa Lepore pushed herself up out of the water. She sat at the end, her pale legs dripping. Her friends immediately came over to her.

Their voices echoed in the pool room, girl voices mingling together to come out distorted and akin to a loud wave.

Clarissa briefly looked at Nia, sitting on a bench across the room. She giggled and whispered to her friend next to her. The girls laughed, stealing glances at Nia.

She jutted out her chin, enveloped the towel around herself, stood up and walked into the changing rooms.

She began talking off her cold one piece. The note staring back at her, tempting her to reread it again. Mrs. Clausonn telling her that she didn’t pass tryouts. To try next year.

Clarissa did pass. She had said since tryouts began that she would beat Nia for a spot. She said it was because ‘black girls can’t swim good. Your hair looks ugly wet anyway.’

Nia folded her swimsuit neatly into a clear bag and placed it in her duffel bag. She heaved the thing up and left the changing room. She hoped she could make it outside without bumping into Clarissa or any of her friends.

She nearly bumped into her as she came into the pool room. Clarissa backed up as if Nia had the plague and maintained her distance. Her friends were all crowding behind her.

When she noticed it was Nia, Clarissa’s smirk grew. Nia prepared herself for more of the same.

“Nia I heard you didn’t make the cut, that’s soooo awwwffffuuullll!” Clarissa said with mock sympathy. Her whiny voice grated Nia’s ears.

“I’ll make it next year, Clarissa,” Nia responded in a monotone manner.

Clarissa’s smirk hardened. It seemed she wanted Nia to play along, to thank her for her sorrys that weren’t sorrys.

“Yeah. Well we wouldn’t want you to drown. That big African hair would weight you down,” she snarked.

Nia’s fingers tightened around her straps, her face, however, showed nothing.

Instead she merely said, “the driver’s waiting for me. You should hurry, don’t want to miss the bus. We know how dangerous your side of town can be after 4.”

Clarissa’s fake smile dropped, she glared openly at Nia and spat, “there aren’t any blacks around for that.”

Nia shrugged and side stepped Clarissa and her groupies. She was the picture of perfectly placidly as she entered the limo, arrived at the mansion, did her homework, dined with her father, had her father check her work and went to bed.

But as she laid in the darkness of her room, staring up at the ceiling, the plan had formed.

••••

The next Monday, Nia was taking her books out of her locker. Her best friend was laying against the locker beside her. They were chatting aimlessly about nonsense preteens talk about.

While Nia answered a question her friend gave her, her mind was preoccupied with the swimming pool.

If her information was correct, Clarissa would be in the pool today after school to work on her strokes as Mrs. Claussen instructed her to do. Many of the members of the swim team caught the flu and so practice was canceled.

Clarissa was the only one going to use the pool today.

“Nia?”

The girl looked at her friend, her friend looked confused, “what?”

“Is it just me or It’s like you’re somewhere else?”

Nia smiled and closed her locker, “it’s just you birdie.”

The bell rang and they walked to class. Nia looked at the mounted clock.

••••

She got the call from Imre that night. She had been playing kunfu master. She quickly brought the phone to her ear, holding it between her shoulder and her ear as her fingers furiously clicked the buttons.

“Querida, how’s your night?” The boy’s smooth voice entered her ear.

“Pretty normal. I’m playing right now.”

Imre made a tsk sound, “did you know video games send wavelengths to your brain to kill brain cells?”

She snorted and replied, “I told you to stop reading those conspiracy magazines. They pay scientists and medical professionals to say some ambiguous shit and then paraphrase that shit.”

Imre sighed, “yes, you’re quite right. But they’re so fun.”

Nia smiled. They were so different in nearly everything but it worked.

“Did you hear the latest gossip?” he asked.

Nia cursed at the screen and answered absentmindedly, “no but you called to tell me.”

Imre chuckled and said, “Clarissa’s in the hospital.”

Nia dropped the controller, getting up and sitting on the bed. She asked calmly, “what happened?”

“She went swimming in the school pool. All seemed fine until she began screaming. Her friends didn’t know what was wrong. Her skin began burning, she was wheezing. Someone said it looked like her skin was vulnerable enough to slip off like the skin of a snake,” Imre told.

“Oh shit,” Nia replied.

“Yes. She couldn’t breathe. They thought she wasn’t going to make it. But it looks like she’ll pull through.”

Nia felt her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream.

Imre paused and said, “you really hated her didn’t you?”

Nia gripped the receiver and tried to keep her voice levelled, “what does that mean?”

Imre went silent on the other end. He didn’t speak for several seconds. Finally his voice took on a light tone.

“Everything has a silver lining. At least now you’ll be on the swim team! Unfortunate thing really but we can celebrate quietly at my house,” he proposed with joviality that was entirely sincere.

Hearing how light and airy his tone was, made Nia angry. It was a big joke to him. Biting back words she knew would hurt him she just exhaled.

“Maybe later.”

Imre hummed in agreement, “of course. It’s best to keep appearances. Bad taste in celebrating when the poor girl is still in the hospital.”

Nia said a hasty goodbye and set the phone down. The dial tone sounding loudly in the quiet room. She laid on her carpet, on her knees.

She felt her dinner trying to make its way up her stomach. Her eyes hurt and her mouth felt as dry as sandpaper.

She dug her shaky hands into the fabric of her jeans, the pinching pain of her nails in her skin doing nothing to help alleviate this wave of disgust.

Disgust at herself.

She felt she was losing control. She didn’t know who she was without it. She looked around her room for something, anything that could keep her tied to the earth.

“What did I do?” A tiny voice that didn’t sound at all like her came out her ajar mouth.

Her eyes landed on the photo of her and her father on her desk. She struggled to get up, but she made it to the desk. Bringing the photo to her chest and went back to the bed and laid down on her side.

Knees raised up she trembled as she pressed the picture hard against her chest.

She thought of how proud he would be when he saw that she made the team. The words he would say: ‘I never expected less from you, my love. A winner like your father.’

She repeated the last part. She was a winner like her father. She was a winner like her father. She was a winner like her father.

Over and over again. Her glassy eyes never allowing her tears to fall.