I Can't Move

A short piece of writing about two young adults and a dreary outdoor pool on a cold October day. It's an idea I've had for a longer story - if I get any positive feedback I might write the whole thin

He emerges from the changing rooms, out into the cool September air. Maybe cool is too meek a word. More like pretty cold.

A pretty cold day in pretty cold Yorkshire.

Beyond the off-white, tiled swimming pool, in the distance rising above the dilapidated gym, loom the hills. If the sun was anywhere else except for at the high point of noon, like it is now, it would’ve been blocked out completely by these ominous structures. In the sky, not a cloud covers the cold sun. Which is unusual.

The pool itself lays in the concrete earth, it’s crystal, sterile water swallowing the grey-pink bodies of teenagers as they plunge into it’s depths, ignoring the chill. He scans the water. Huge splashes come from the deep end, the 17 year old boys chucking waves into each others faces and diving for their goggles. Some of the braver ones are bombing in, soaking a particularly giggly group of girls daintily sat on the side. One of them catches his eye and smiles cutely. She could look so innocent, if he hadn’t witnessed her and her gang smashing a girl’s head into the History room wall earlier.

He looks away, and as if on cue, notices the girl in question.

Wide-eyed, with only her head above the water, standing alone in the pool, is Kylie.

***

I start walking quickly, the echo of my dull footsteps getting lost in the splashy noise of young adults, eyes fixed on the little creature.

The water strokes my feet and calves suddenly like a knife, and I hiss inwardly, surprised that this sensation doesn’t cause a cut or bruise.

She notices me, and starts to look around desperately, like a rat caught in a trap, but doesn’t move. Maybe she thinks it’ll draw too much attention, being near me. Not that anyone’s looking at us.

I push on, footsteps getting slower and thicker as my body is enveloped into more of the chill.

When I’m only ten feet away I call out, still advancing.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”she calls back, trying to look down at her submerged feet.

“Do you mind if I come and stand with you? Don’t wanna get roped into actually doing any swimming.” I smile light-heartedly at her.

“Yeah, course, that’s fine.”

I keep going until we’re only a few feet apart and stop, surprised at how shallow we actually are; the level of water that’s almost submerging her only just licks at my upper arm. She tilts her chin up awkwardly, either to breathe easier or look at me, and for a moment I take in her face.

A small mouth, chewed at habitually, leaving tiny red lines of scars along the lips; high, hollowed cheeks with a layer of milky white skin stretched over them; big, slightly bloodshot light eyes that don’t fit into any colour category other than paint water-grey. She’s strikingly odd. And it takes me off guard, again.

“Um, Ben.” She doesn’t say it like a question, but just speaks my name for something to break the silence.

“Sorry. Daydreaming.”

She smiles slightly, a gesture that ghosts her face before it fades.

The noise of the pool chatters on,: conversation mixed with splashes and water being sucked down the square drains underneath the ledge of the pool-side.

“Cold, isn’t it?”

“Mm.”

“I thought I’d be used to it now.”

She nods slightly, chewing her lip.

“Might even snow. That’d be something.”

There’s silence, then she bites.

“Was it not cold in… uh... Russia?”

I moved here at the start of sixth form’s second year a month ago. My mum and dad move around a lot, forever trying to reinvent themselves in different places, dragging me and my two brothers along with them. When I started at Heelston Sixth form, everyone was too old for the whole ‘stand up at the front of the class and introduce yourself,’ (besides, there were two many classes) so Kylie must’ve picked up on my ambiguous accent. Or gossip about the new boy.

But I doubt anyone gossips to her.

I grin at the longest thing she’s said to me yet.

“Uh, America. I lived in Moscow a few years before that though, so good guess.”

She looks interested, and I work hard to keep the line open.

“It’s so hot there. America I mean. We were in California. I can’t believe they make you guys use an outdoor pool in this weather!”

She grimaces. “Yeah, shocking, isn’t it? Don’t know why I picked sports studies. Thought it would be more… theory based.”

“Heh, bad luck.”

Just visible above the line of the water, on her jaw, is a large bruise the colour of deep, blackberry jam.

I almost say something, about what I saw yesterday, but don’t.

The cold starts to seep into my bones.

“Wow, it’s colder when you don’t move.” I start swaying from foot to foot to get more blood flowing. “You should walk around a bit, you look freezing.”

She does look cold, starting to shake slightly. But she doesn’t respond to me, and instead looks away.

“Kylie?”

“Hm?”

“Are you all right?”

She sucks her bottom lips for a few seconds then shakes her head, eye’s starting to look watery and pained.

I lower my voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t move.” She mutters.

“What do you mean?”

“Like I can’t get my legs to work. They feel frozen solid.”

***

He looks at her confused for a moment, and the next second, he’s gone, slipping swiftly under the water.

“Ben!” She hisses at him, looking around worriedly.

The shock is instantaneous, cold rushing to the roots of his hair and pores on his skin as soon as he goes under. He stills, floating for a second, before his body starts to accept and get used to the sensation.

Under the surface, everything has a different perspective. Ben can see it all, the liquid clear as vodka: gentle sways of people’s feet a they dip them in the pool from the side; the underbellies of the few students taking the lesson seriously enough to actually swim; huge, almost silent disruptions to the surface as somebody dives in, their body being slowed almost instantly by the fluid.

The one thing that seems eerily still is the body in front of him.

Exposed, and defenceless, Kylie’s thin body stands there, the little flesh it has blue, its limbs stiff. If she hadn’t been physically standing upright, he’d have thought it was a drowned corpse.

No wonder she’s cold. There’s nothing to her. Her hipbones stick out mercilessly even through the navy blue swimming costume, the short shallow breaths of the girl making painful ribs expose then hide underneath the stretchy fabric.

Ben reaches out and tentatively touches her knee. He feels her whole body twitch, seizing up, but she doesn’t move. She can’t move.

Air.

Breathe.

Almost forgetting, Ben places his feet on the tiled floor, and pushes up, water streaming down his face as he surfaces.

She holds his gaze shakily, daring him to say what he’s thinking.

And for the second time, he doesn’t.

“Yeah you’ve just gotten a bit cold from standing around is all. Come on lets get you moving.”

He reaches forward slowly, and takes her elbow, pulling and pushing her, making her tilt back and forth on the balls of her feet. She stares for a moment, then a laughs abruptly at the weird scene. He grins back, takes the other elbow, and drags her as he walks backwards towards the deep end.

The floor of the pool falls away from her feet, but he holds her rigidly.

“See if you can kick your feet.”

“Are you teaching me to swim?” She jokes.

“Maybe. After you learn how to walk.”

Under the water, he sees slight movement as she attempts a kick. Then another. Subconsciously, she grips onto his arms for better supports, biting her lip as she concentrates on moving. He watches intently, and focuses on the bruise again. The exact place where her jaw had collided with the wall. It might not be so noticable, if there was something to cover it up, but her short sprigs of mousy, strait hair only fall to her sharp little cheek bones.

She look up and he averts his gaze, obviously.

“I think that’s good.”

He nods, and circles around, starting to pull her towards the shallows.

When the water level sinks to her shoulders, her lets go.

“How are you feeling now?”

“A bit better. I’m going to go into the changing rooms.”

“Good idea.”

She takes a slow step forward. Then another.

On the third she stumbles.

“Oh, oh, steady.” He caught her arms again. “Want me to walk you out?”

Her cheeks are flushed and brow furrowed in frustration at her body’s lack of co-operation.

“Yes please.”

“Okay, come on.”

They make their way slowly, and as inconspicuously as possible out of the pool, the water eventually falling so low as to swish around their calves and ankles as they walk. Not everyone cares enough to pay attention, but a few faces start turning around, interested at the odd situation.

As soon as they’re out of the pool, she wriggles free, mutters a thanks, and marches unstably away from the peering eyes, leaving Ben in the cold.

Author's Note

First post on here! Let me know what you think, I've been wanting to write this for a while and i'm thinking about extending it into a proper story.