The Black

Breathe. Just breathe.

Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth.

Slow and steady.

Repeat.

You’ve got this.

You can do it.

No fear. NO FEAR.

Easier said than done. He’s in there, I know it. I can feel him. He’s waiting for me. Oh God, I don’t think I can do this. What was I thinking? Ugh, here come the cramps. I think I’m gonna throw up. No, first I’m gonna crap then throw up. Or maybe I’ll crap and throw up at the same time.

WHOA.

Get it together, Sanders.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth.

Slow and steady.

Repeat.

Repeat.

REPEAT.

Kevin Sanders stood behind the glass patio door, staring at the pool in his backyard. He wore bright swim trunks and clutched a rolled beach towel in one hand. A shiver passed through him, and he unrolled the towel, draping it around his shoulders. Tearing his eyes away from the pool, he looked down at his bare feet and sighed. Why did this have to be so hard?

He glanced behind him, hoping to see mom or dad come through the door. Dad would be wearing his signature chino shorts and pressed golf shirt. Mom would be in a pastel sundress and strappy sandals.

“Hey, bud,” Dad had said to him just a few hours ago, grabbing him by the shoulders. “How about a round of eighteen with the old man tomorrow? We’ll beat the pants off your cousins!”

Mom had clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Oh, boy, here we go with the golf already.” Turning to Kevin, she had said, “Honey, are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

Are you sure? Are you sure?

His mom’s voice hung in the empty hallway like an echo. Kevin felt a pang of regret for not joining them. They’d gone up the coast to Aunt Ellen’s for her annual Fourth of July celebration. Ellen had a huge house with a private beach. No doubt there’d be a barbecue, games, fireworks, and a little golfing if Kevin’s dad got his way. Kevin knew he would’ve had fun with his family.

But he stayed behind. He had a point to prove. And he had to do it alone.

Kevin looked back at the pool. Get out there, Sanders, said the voice in his brain. Quit being such a chickenshit.

Kevin released a deep breath and opened the patio door, stepping through to the backyard. He padded across the wooden deck to the lounge chairs arranged near the edge of the pool. He threw his towel onto a chair and crossed his arms, squinting at the pool.

Whatever possessed his parents to install such a dark pool? Kevin’s mom claimed black bottom pools were “all the rage” and if there was anyone determined to stay young and trendy, it was Karen Sanders. Chuck Sanders, Kevin’s dad and world’s greatest penny-pincher, was just happy that their electricity bill wouldn’t increase as the pool would "naturally absorb heat from the sun," he claimed.

Screw trendy. Screw the electric bill. In Kevin’s eyes, the pool was ugly and foreboding. The twenty foot by forty foot monstrosity was completed two weeks ago, and Kevin had yet to dip a toe in it. When his parents inquired why he hadn’t gone swimming, he made up a string of lies – his allergies were acting up; he had plans with his best friends, Matt and Marty; he wanted to watch the Harry Potter movie marathon on tv; and so on. Every day he had a fresh excuse for staying out of the water.

Truth was, he was terrified of the pool. Or rather, what was in the pool. He’d seen just a glimpse of it. He’d been upstairs in his room and happened to look out the window at the pool one afternoon, and there it was, gliding through the water, nearly invisible. But Kevin had seen it. Seen him.

The shark in the pool.

Kevin remembered falling backward onto his bed in shock at the sight of the shark. A full minute passed before he’d dared to look out the window again. It was gone by then. If it was ever there at all. He’d dismissed that thought, positive that he’d seen a pointed snout and fins and, briefly, the tip of a gray dorsal fin.

But two weeks passed and he’d never seen it again, despite looking out his window at least five times a day, staring at the pool until his eyes hurt, willing the shark to show itself. He began to think he’d imagined it, that the sunlight sparkling on top of the inky water had caused him to see something that couldn’t possibly be there.

He also started to feel bad about being such a wuss. He was fourteen years old, for God’s sake. He was a little short for his age but he still considered himself semi-athletic. He knew how to swim; he was actually a good swimmer. If Matt and Marty found out that he thought there was a shark in his pool, they’d laugh their asses off and then throw him in the deep end.

Kevin thought about calling one of them to be a witness but then decided that he needed to conquer his fear alone. After all, if he was wrong, he didn’t want to feel like a dumbass in front of anyone. But if he was right . .

Slowly, he walked to the diving board installed at the deep end of the pool. He had a plan in mind . . . sort of. He’d take a running start across the board, leap as far as he could across the pool, splash down in the shallow end, and haul butt to the concrete steps that led out of the pool onto the deck.

He stood on the diving board for ten minutes, staring at the water. Show yourself, he thought. If you’re really there, show yourself.

Nothing. Not a single ripple on the water’s surface. Just blackness, emptiness.

Kevin steadied himself, gripping the bars on the sides of the diving board. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this, Sanders. You’re fast. It’ll be over before you know it.

He grit his teeth and took off, bounding along the board. Just as he reached the end of the board, preparing to hurdle across the water, he saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye.

Charlie.

The little white terrier bounded out of the open patio door and raced toward Kevin, barking.

Kevin lost his footing, stumbled at the end of the board, and fell into the deep end with a resounding PLOP.

The darkness of the water disoriented him. He touched bottom. Ten feet, he remembered. Mom had insisted that the deep end be ten feet. Dad had called it “one hell of a black hole.”

Panic shot through him as he used his feet to thrust himself upward. He’d nearly broken the surface when he felt something bump him. Head above the water, he screamed and looked around wildly. Charlie was at the edge of the pool, barking incessantly. He wasn’t looking at Kevin.

He was looking at the water.

Kevin swam clumsily toward the shallow end of the pool, sure that at any moment a giant mouth with razor-sharp, triangular teeth would seize him and drag him down into the depths. He would die a slow, painful, bloody death. Alone.

Charlie ran circles around the edge of the pool, barking like mad.

Swimming for his life, choking on mouthfuls of water, he didn’t dare look behind him. Reaching the shallow end, he half-stumbled, half-ran up the steps and threw himself onto the deck, rolling away from the pool. Charlie trotted over and licked his face as Kevin lay on his back, trying to catch his breath, heart pounding.

Several minutes passed before Kevin felt brave enough to sit up and look at the pool. Sunlight glistened on the top and the water had gone still again, as if it had never been disturbed at all.

Kevin got up, disgusted with himself. There was no damn shark in the pool. His imagination had gotten the best of him the last few weeks, and he felt embarrassed and stupid.

You’re an idiot, Sanders, came the voice in his head. Better keep this to yourself or Matt and Marty will never let you live it down. He wrapped his towel around his waist and walked toward the house.

“C’mon, Charlie,” he said, gesturing at the little dog to follow him. When Charlie didn’t move, Kevin shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay, suit yourself,” and disappeared into the house.

Charlie watched his young master go then turned his attention back to the pool. He trotted over to the edge by the diving board and sat, head cocked, staring at the pool. After a moment he crouched down and leaned forward, nose pointed toward the water.

Without warning, the shark’s head breached the water’s surface, plucking Charlie into its mouth before the terrier could react. Sleek and quick, it disappeared into the murky deep with its prize, silent as death.

Once more the dark water went placid, glassy and smooth, the occasional ripple not betraying the monster that lurked below, waiting.

Waiting.