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But there’s nothing I can do except follow him back down under the water.
At least I’ve got Leo as my buddy. He isn’t joking around like usual, probably because he knows I’m wound tighter than a guitar string. He sits right next to me on the rough and rocky bottom of the pool, waiting patiently for Professor Bruce to approach.
Leo is already undoing the straps of his tank, planning to offer it to the professor.
Our teacher senses weakness. He narrows his pale blue eyes behind his mask and shakes his head, pointing to me instead. With trembling hands, I unclasp my tank and hand it over.
The moment the respirator is out of my mouth, I start to panic. I look up at the distant, shining surface of the pool, impossibly far overhead. I couldn’t swim all the way up there with the single breath captured in my lungs.
Leo removes his respirator and fits it in my mouth, resting his hands on my shoulders and looking into my eyes through our masks. He waits patiently while I take several breaths, watching my face.
I don’t need him to speak to know what he wants to say to me—with his dark eyes looking into mine, I can hear his voice in my head:
Relax, Anna. I’m right here. You’ve got this. I’m not gonna let you drown on the bottom of this pool. For one thing, your dad would kill me . . .
It almost makes me smile.
Only Leo’s perfect calm allows me to maintain mine. If he would have taken the air back too soon, or even stared at me impatiently, I don’t think I could have handled it.
I know what a good swimmer he is. I know how long he can hold his breath.
I take my time getting the oxygen I need, and then I pass the respirator back to Leo. He takes two quick breaths and gives itto me again, watching me closely through his mask. I can see his concern. I know he’d never leave me without air.
Professor Bruce makes us sit down there for over twenty minutes, sharing respirators.
Two of the sets of students can’t handle it—one of the Spies starts squabbling and nearly pulls the hose right out of the tank before the professor intervenes. On the opposite side of the circle, an Albanian Heir named Valon Hoxha loses his nerve completely and goes kicking off the bottom without any tank, trying to swim for the surface.
He only makes it halfway before he takes an involuntary gulp of water and starts to drown.
Lucky for him, the professor is right behind him. He puts the thrashing Hoxha into a headlock and forces the respirator into his mouth. Still thrashing and fighting, Hoxha is dragged up to the surface and tossed out of the pool by the irritated professor.
Professor Bruce finally returns alone, signaling for us to follow him up.
I still don’t have an oxygen tank.
Leo grabs my hand and starts swimming slowly upward. He pauses frequently so we can control our rate of ascent, passing the respirator back and forth.
Even with all his help, I’m wildly relieved when my head breaks the surface again and I can take full, unobstructed gulps of air.
Leo pushes his mask up on his head, grinning at me. “You did it!”
“Only because of you,” I say honestly.
He shrugs. “I’m only passing History because of you. But don’t tell Ares that, ‘cause he’s under the impression that I’ve been studying on my own.”
I snort. “Who told him that?”
Leo grins. “Somebody who didn’t want to accept another invitation to the library.”
I strip off the wet, chilly scuba equipment.
All around me, my fellow students are doing the same.
I notice that Hedeon Gray wore a t-shirt down into the water, even though he’s in good shape and has nothing to hide.
As he pulls off his tank, his shirt rides up and I get a look at his bare back.
He’s covered in scars, layer upon layer of them. Thick, twisting, overlapping bands running in all directions.
