Even a year and a half after the accident those words were unreal. T-10. Incomplete. Numbers and letters that defined me now. They were unreal too. In the water though, I could imagine. Remember. If only some instrumental version of “Radioactive” hadn’t been playing under the water, I would have been golden. “Bryan.” A splash across my face brought me back to the rec center pool. Fluorescent lights instead of the sun. Chlorine instead of salt. I blinked the water from my eyes, shifted the therapy noodle out from under my knees, and paddled upright. My arms ached from my workout. I’d pushed myself hard. I may not have had use of my legs, but I had the upper body of fucking Iron Man. #wheelchairperk Jena, a rec center noob, stood at the side of the pool and waggled her fingers at me. We didn’t really know each other, but knew of each other. Wade had her stats down, like he did for every girl who was working at the rec center for the summer. Single. Sophomore. Soccer/swim girl. Liked to party. Her red lifeguard hoodie skimmed the top of her legs. Her long, tanned legs. Legs that could run and jump and kick without a second thought. Thighs that could wrap around me. She cleared her throat. “Sorry for the splashing. I wanted to get your attention.” 22
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