“Bhaji,” the voice said.

I sighed. I thought I’d lost Ravi in the steam of the shower. I slid the metal razor across my armpits and wiped the blade clean with a towel. The skin smooth. I held my breath as I shaved the trail of hair leading from my dick and up to the dark ring around my belly button. I wanted to look strong and sleek for Sarah.

It was the first day of summer vacation and my cousin Ravi was in town from Toronto. My parents had never even hinted at the possibility of him coming. I could imagine our moms arranging Ravi’s visit—“Cousin brothers are supposed to grow together. Experience life together”—just like how they introduced us three years ago at our uncle’s wedding—no names, but as cousin brothers. How could we be both? Cousin brothers sounded so stupid.

 “Challo!” Ravi’s face peered over the stall’s wall. Panicked, I dropped the razor in the toilet. I pulled up my shorts and flicked the lock and swung the door open.

Ravi’s long hair dripped water down his broad chest. “Were you shaving?”

“No.” I darted past him and headed toward the changeroom exit. I rubbed my hand over my belly. The left side smooth, the right coarse, like a hedgehog.  

“But I saw the razor in the toilet.” Ravi’s feet smacked across the tiles behind me.

I yanked my shorts above my belly button and reached inside for the drawstring. Fishing around, I could only find the satin tag—Made in India. I turned to Ravi and unclipped the key from my waistband. “I forgot the sunscreen.”

“Wait for me.” He grabbed the key from my outstretched hand. “Your shorts are on backwards.”

“It’s called style,” I yelled, as he trotted to our locker. I dropped my shorts, turned them around, cinched the drawstring and fled to the tunnelling light of the pool deck. Ravi could find his own way.

Ravi and I were once close. That first night in Toronto, in Ravi’s room, between playing carrom board and Bhabhi, I had swiped a straight razor from my father’s dopp kit. “I saw this in a movie once.” I bit my lip and cut across my thumb. A warmth flooded my body. I handed the blade to Ravi and motioned my head for him to do the same.

Ravi pinched the razor and held it close to his face. He swallowed, hovered the blade above his thumb, and counted down from three in Punjabi. I didn’t think he had it in him, the way he counted slowly and breathed all deep, but when he reached zero he slashed his thumb. He gritted his teeth and sucked in air. It sounded like Velcro tearing. We winced when our thumbs touched, our blood mixing together. It felt rather unceremonious so I blurted out, “All for one and one for all.” Ravi repeated the oath. Sworn brothers from that moment on, we would be bonded in this life and the next.

We were inseparable for the week. At the wedding reception, our parents smiled as we owned the dance floor. The DJ boomed Apache Indian while Ravi and I pumped our arms and legs. Our parents decided it would be smart for us to spend more time together. My mother and father flew back to Vancouver while I stayed in Toronto for an extra month.

I had screwed up in making us blood brothers. Outside of basketball, we were different. Ravi’s life was so Indian. Only Indian food. Only Indian movies. The dubbed punching sound effect from Bollywood movies became the soundtrack of my trip. I was unable to understand a word the actors said. Sensing my distance from our heritage, Ravi’s parents enrolled us in Khalsa school for two weeks. Ravi acted as my guide to help me understand and connect with our roots.

“What’s up, lil bugger?” Sarah’s head cocked away from the nozzle of the outdoor shower. Water spurted over her tight red swimsuit. She glistened. Her arms. Her thighs. Her chest. Her mouth. She kept her hair tied up. 

I adjusted my waistband again to cover the half-ring of hair around my belly button. I hadn’t seen Sarah since she left for her trip to the UK, missing the last two weeks of school. She’d returned with a posh British accent. I waved.

She stepped away from the shower and went to the fountain. Water dripped off her butt onto the concrete.

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Sarah’s lips glossed wet as she spun around.

“Easy to stare at nothing,” I said.

“You shite.”

In front of us, summer stretched out at Kits Pool. Three wrestlers from our school—grade 12s, with their boulder shoulders—passed a football in the water, lunging their bodies to make dramatic diving catches in front of three girls in small bikinis who were probably their girlfriends. The sun turned the girls’ legs pink with blotches. My brown skin sucked up the sun like a sponge. Sarah and I talked about the UK and she couldn’t stop mentioning castles, Big Ben, the London Eye, all the “cheeky” pints she had. She must have said “culture” twenty times.

“Is it not the same as Canada?” I said, gazing at the grassy area where, behind a short metal barrier, a group of big-bodied men hammered nails into planks. Electric saws droned. A bald man tapped the one with the power saw on the shoulder. He pointed to a group of girls near us and they began to laugh. The workers were building a stage, preparing for the annual summer kickoff. I loved the Snorkel Scavenge and Flick-n-Float.

“You just need to visit it yourself.” Sarah’s eyes went to the basketball hoops. Her friends Whitney and Jessie bobbed in the water, shooting jumpers. “Come with me.”

We sidestepped a boy and girl my age lying on a shared towel, making out. He pulled her tight to his chest and cupped her butt as their tongues twisted around each other’s, their bodies fusing together. A lifeguard walked over and knelt beside them. “The pool is a public, family-friendly place.” The couple rolled apart, faces burning as the lifeguard sauntered off, his eyes scanning the pool deck.

I’d never even seen my parents kiss, yet I saw people inhaling face in broad daylight. At the rec centre. In the glow of the movie theatre. In the soccer field at school. It was embarrassing to be fifteen and to have never kissed anyone. It always felt like something I should have been doing. Or should have automatically known how to do, like an inherited power once my voice dropped. I imagined that some kind of specific genes were supposed to flick on and tell my mouth how to contort my lips and twirl my tongue. I should have been some type of Romeo at this point. A kiss machine that knew how to woo girls and make them swoon. But I felt average in every way. My muscles were puny and no one had body hair like mine. I rode the bench in basketball, did okay enough in school to keep my parents happy. I never felt exciting enough to warrant anyone’s attention. How would I ever get Sarah to like me? I didn’t even like myself. 

I waved at the twins, Whitney and Jessie. They were short and had brown hair slicked back into braids. Their eyes Gatorade blue. They weren’t my type, acting like their cuteness was some great evolutionary strategy. I could never tell them apart. Sarah sat on the pool’s edge, then eased herself in. She hugged them both and they began to play basketball. Sarah stood guard under the net as Whitney and Jessie tried to score. Sarah blocked all their shots. A pure force.

Next to the slide, Mike called out and motioned me over. I told Sarah I would catch up with them later. I slunk past a row of girls lying on their stomachs, bikini tops undone to prevent tan lines. They talked about a house party that night, and how the wrestlers from across the way would be there, who said they’d use their fake IDs to grab bottles of Vex. They smelled like bananas.

I spread my towel beside the snacks. A bag of chips and grapes laid between us. Mike’s face morphed into a perv grin, his lips drawn back, eyes the size of coin slots. I knew what he wanted to launch into. For him the major event of 1999 wasn’t Gretzky retiring or Columbine or even Y2K. It was sex. It’s all he talked about while we were glued to the bench during basketball season.

 “She’s got some tits under there,” Mike said. “Smallies from what I can tell.” He pointed at Sarah. “A pussy too. I bet it’s a smooth, pretty one.”

Sarah dunked the basketball, her legs thick and bright as she launched out of the water. I pulled out a few curly hairs on the inside of my thigh. “You think she shaves?”

“No doubt.” Mike crunched a handful of BBQ chips. “When the fall comes, the honeys will be mature in the body. I need to get a piece of someone, anyone. You’re so lucky to be sitting on a winning ticket.”

I shook my head. “What do you mean?”

Mike pointed over the water at Sarah. “I see how she looks at you.”

“We’re just friends.”

“That is exactly how it happens.”

The ball landed near us. I tossed it back. Sarah waved. I waved back.

“She’s moist for you. Foaming even.”

“It’s not like that between us,” I lied. I should’ve asked Sarah if I could play with them.

 “Listen, get reps with Sarah and you will reek of sex. Ta-da, grade 10 will be an ass parade.” Mike rolled onto his stomach and humped the ground.

“Bench slugs are known for their sex appeal.”

“It sounds like you want to die a virgin.”

I rolled my eyes. “In it together, amigo.”

“Please—Whitney has been straight macking me on MSN. Our messages are racy yet tasteful.” Mike put his fingers to his lips and kissed them.

“You sound dumber by the second.”

“God, I would die for a piece of Whitney. You better hook up with Sarah—if not for you, then for me.” 

I watched the girls hoop. All of them had grown since grade 8. Their bathing suits hugged their chests, their thighs were bigger. If I didn’t know them, I’d think they were older than me—seniors even. I felt nervous to think about what I would say to Sarah. “Isn’t sex a little too … I don’t know … adult?”

Mike looked down at my stomach. “Nice mom shorts.” He ate a few more chips. “Who is that dude with long hair waving at us? You think he flosses his ass with it?”

Before I could reply, Ravi laid his towel down beside me. I introduced him. 

“Oh. Like ravioli?” Mike said.

“Short for Ravinder.” Ravi gestured at me. “Like Aaron, short for Aerbinder.”

I glared at him. A whistle blasted across the pool.

“Why the long hair?” Mike said.

Ravi stood and bounced on his toes. “I’m Sikh.”

Mike leaned back. “Sick with what?”

“It’s Indian,” I said.

“Like you?” Mike took in my buzzcut before returning to Ravi. “I would melt if I had that much hair.”

“It’s important,” Ravi said.

Mike looked to me for answers.

“He’ll wear a turban.”

“Wait, hair goes up there?” Mike rubbed his blonde undercut.

“It’s called a pagga,” Ravi said.

The pool skimmer burped and gurgled. 

“Aerbinder?” Mike turned to me. “Shouldn’t we call you Aer for short?”

“And we should call you dick for short.” 

Wet footsteps approached. “And who is this?” Sarah gave Mike a peace sign, then stared at Ravi.

 “This is Aerbinder’s cousin.” Mike jabbed me with his elbow.

Sarah examined Ravi’s hair and his silver bracelet. “Nice to see a bloke with his own style. Your hair, let me guess—egg white wash for the silky shine?”

“It not like it’s his choice,” I said under my breath.

“Coconut oil.” Ravi smiled, confident, like back in Khalsa school. His muscles popped in the sunlight. It looked like he ate whole chickens. He should’ve been on TV.

“Brilliant, love it,” Sarah said.

He blushed.

“Let’s go hoop with the chicks, Ravi.” Mike winked at me, and the two left to join Whitney and Jessie.

Sarah plopped onto Ravi’s towel. We looked over at the stage being built. The men swung their hammers, shirts painted with sweat. They all howled at something the bald one said. The biggest one, the boss with a handlebar moustache, ordered them to knock it off. “Clamp your squawk boxes. I don’t wanna be swingin’ and sawin’ under the moon.” The men stopped laughing and returned to work.

I grabbed the chips. “Remember all those times we rode your dad’s work float in the parade?”

“Back when we were naive,” Sarah said. “We really thought that was peak life.”

“Does he have room for us this year?”

“Funny, Aaron.” She watched Jessie and Ravi versus Whitney and Mike play basketball in the pool.

“I heard we might go to New York next year for a tournament.” I tracked a sweat line on Sarah’s chest. It burned white in the sun below her throat and disappeared between her breasts. I offered her the grapes.

She grabbed a few and laid them on the towel. “Well, you might.”

“What do you mean?”

“Junior league is full of scrubs. The coach from the senior team called me. He wants me to play with them next year.” Sarah popped a grape into her mouth. “It will help my chances at a scholarship. I’ll hoop with their club team this summer.” 

“I hope you have time for the Flick-n-Float.”

 “How many times are we going to do this?” She pointed at the men building the stage.

“It’s tradition.”

“Will my parents be at the beer garden this weekend? Guaranteed. Will they be hungover the whole weekend? Guaranteed. What kind of tradition is that? So imaginative. Bravo.” She clapped her hands. “Lives on repeat. Whoop-de-doo.” She rummaged in Mike’s pack, pulled out a tube of sunscreen and handed it to me. “If I die here, my life will be a failure.” 

I squeezed the sunscreen into my hand. “When did you decide to play senior?”

“Just now.” 

I rubbed Sarah’s shoulders. Her skin warm, flawless. Not even a freckle. It smelled of cocoa butter with a hint of jasmine. Her breathing calmed as I reached her lower back. I felt needed. Like I was her priest, the first to hear these innermost thoughts. I wished I could be so certain like her. So against the grain.

Sarah’s head and shoulders rolled forward. “You never told me about Ravi.”

I rubbed my fingers across my thumb, feeling the thin line of the razorblade scar. “He can be embarrassing.” I shook the sunscreen bottle and squirted more lotion into my hand. 

“How so?”

“When I visited him in Toronto he left me out to dry at summer school. A bunch of old men asked me about my—” I wanted to say pind but thought it would sound dumb. “My father’s village. Ravi knew his and I didn’t know mine. The old pricks looked at me like I pissed on all my ancestor’s graves.”

“Well.”

“Well what?”

“Do you know it now?”

Mike, Whitney and Jessie treaded water in the deep end, watching Ravi execute handstand somersaults off the diving board. Ravi barely made a splash as he dove into the pool. Pure grace. His hair added to the mystique; he looked like Tarzan. He motioned everyone toward the shallow end and they followed.

“He doesn’t usually look like that,” I said.

“Let me guess. The long hair is his experimental phase?” Sarah’s fingers clawed at the air.

“He usually covers it.”

“Like with a hat.”

“More like with cloth.”

“A bandana?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Sarah ogled Ravi as I worked back up to her shoulders. Ravi taught our friends how to somersault into the shallow end. He stood beside them on the deck, braced their legs with one hand and tucked the other against their stomachs as they inverted, helping them roll over into the pool. Perfect form, toes pointed. Mike surfaced near the swimming lanes and the lifeguard snatched the megaphone. “Do not cross over into the swim lanes. Please exit the pool to go around.” Mike shook his head and swam back to the edge.

“Ay!” Sarah yelled. “Why don’t you be a good bloke and ask if I want to learn?”

Ravi pointed at himself, mouthed, Me?

“Yes you, genius.”

He waved her over. Sarah undid her hair and it fell over my hands.

My thumbs circled her lower back. I cleared my throat. My heart thumped as I did my best Austin Powers impersonation. “How does it feel, baby?” Sarah turned to me. I licked my lips, closed my eyes and leaned forward.

A wet hand dragged across my face. “Such a dork.” Sarah wiped her sunscreen-slathered hand over my flat chest. “Let’s skip the Flick-n-Float and go see Austin Powers again. I could use the laugh.” Then she left, heading straight for Ravi.

I sat on the pool edge and swayed my feet in the water. The pool skimmer gulped. I wished I could be sucked into the drain and forgotten. It wounded me to think that Sarah didn’t feel the same as I did. The special atmosphere of just the two of us together, my hands on her, in the sun’s warmth. I felt so far from everyone. As if I could just float away and no one would notice, like some sort of gas. I moved my mouth, made the right sounds, gave people what they expected. Played along. I still felt foolish. Uncomfortable. An imposter. I didn’t fit in.

Everyone was laughing as they somersaulted perfectly and stuck their landings in the pool. Should I have made it more romantic? Taken her under water like Leo and Claire in Romeo and Juliet? I should’ve gotten Sarah to sign something when we were thirteen. Some kind of binding agreement that we would kiss. So that—what? I wouldn’t have to ask her? This was so stupid. I got up and walked over to the group. “You’re a pro,” I said to Sarah. “Teach me.”

We stood on the pool deck and Sarah instructed me to tuck my chin tight before rolling over into the water. I stepped forward and swung my legs up, balancing on my hands, fingers curled around the pool’s edge. Sarah tried to grip my ankles to help me balance but my momentum carried us both forward and we splashed into the pool.

Under water, I watched Sarah sink. She sat cross-legged on the pool bottom with her palms pressed to her chest. We made eye contact. I tilted my head, examining her like a specimen under a microscope, unsure what she was doing. Sarah shrugged her shoulders and smiled. What a smile—it was like she had too many teeth. Bubbles floated out from her nose. Then she stood and grabbed the basketball bobbing on the surface. I stayed submerged. It was peaceful. Sarah’s long, toned quads looked like ivory, her carved stomach like speed bumps. Curly strands of hair strayed from the red spandex V of her crotch, coming alive as she juked and spun with the basketball. The hair lapped against her skin, caressing, teasing. I could’ve watched her forever.

Then Ravi’s legs sidled up to Sarah’s. She hid the ball under water and turned her back to him. He reached both arms around her waist and the ball squirted from her hands when she pivoted to face him. Their thighs touched.

I bolted out of the water and caught my breath. Ravi was embracing her, his biceps the size of mangoes, attached to Sarah like a leech. They didn’t seem to notice me or anyone else—not Jessie or Whitney sunbathing on the deck or Mike shooting hoops. Sarah slung her arms around Ravi’s neck. Ravi’s hand cupped the back of her head. Then he kissed Sarah’s upturned face.

My stomach heaved, my breath tangy through my nose. I swallowed the sharp acid. I hated their poise, their naturalness, as if they’d rehearsed so often they didn’t have to think about it. They pulled away, their faces red, and scooted to the shallow end together.

Images flashed through my mind—Ravi and Sarah in my basement, a mess of arms and legs, kissing. Sarah pulling Ravi’s stray hairs off her tongue as she grabbed a popsicle from the freezer. Mike and I playing Golden Eye in the living room, throwing grenades at each other on the screen, trying to feel something.

It was right there! There must have been a way to bring Sarah back to me. Something I could have said, something cool. Maybe a Punjabi proverb? I should have paid more attention in Khalsa school.

Ravi tucked an arm behind Sarah. She cocked her head into his shoulder.

“Let’s play something different,” I yelled. “Something we all can do.”

No one listened. Ravi kissed the top of her head. 

“Hey! Let’s do something different!” I sprang across the water and grabbed Mike. “Marco.”

“Such a kid’s game,” Mike said.

“Fun.” Whitney jumped back into the pool.

“That’s what I meant,” Mike said.

Ravi motioned his head to Sarah. They joined.

We zigzagged through the shallow end, dodging Mike. Ravi finally became “it” when Mike called him out for hiding under water. Ravi lunged at the air as Mike circled him. I plodded toward Ravi, splashed him. A beach ball bounced off his head, but he was locked on me. Blares from the lifeguard’s megaphone cracked over the pool. I dove as Ravi lunged.

When I resurfaced, Ravi said, “You’re it. You brushed my leg.”

“No way.”

Ravi swept away a Nerf football bobbing in the water between us. “You never play by the rules.”

Electric saws squealed. “Pound those planks ova there,” a stage builder yelled.

I approached Ravi. “You come here and steal the show”—I backed him toward the edge of the pool, my face hot—“and kiss my friend.” 

“Aaron, chill,” Sarah said.

“I saw you two. Under the water, groping each other.”

“Not my fault you have a hot cousin.” 

Ravi interrupted. “Bhaji—”

“Shut up.” I turned to Sarah. “We’ve known each other for so long. We were supposed to.”

“Supposed to what?” Sarah said.

I swallowed. “We were supposed to kiss and be something.”

Sarah shook her head. “Aaron, we’re friends.”

“I thought that’s how it starts. And then we become more.”

“Aaron, I don’t want that.” She leaned against the fence.

Mike sat on the pool deck. He shrugged. I craned my neck to the sky and put my hands behind my head.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t mean—” Ravi started.

I glared at Sarah. “You’re leaving, Mike is trying to have sex. Where do I fit in all this? Everyone is changing, like you all can’t wait to leave everything behind.” My legs were air as I gripped the pool deck. “It’s all happening so fast. I can’t keep up.”

Sarah pressed her palms together, collapsed her fingers and raised her hands to her lips. Mike cupped his palm over his mouth to hide a laugh.

“Aerbinder,” Ravi said.

I faced him. His long hair floated on the surface of the water, completely horizontal.

Ravi stepped forward and winced. His head tilted back and I saw that a chunk of his hair was caught in the pool skimmer. I started to laugh as the rest of it snaked toward the drain, but Ravi’s desperate whisper silenced me.

“Help.”

I rushed for the skimmer and tugged on the trapped hair. It loosened for a second before grinding further down the drain. Ravi yelped. He fell backward into the water. I snatched his arm and pulled him closer to the drain to ease the tension on his head. Ravi reached back and yanked. He flinched. Mike fetched the tube of sunscreen from the deck and threw it to me. I drained the bottle into my hands. I lathered Ravi’s clogged hair and the inside of the pipe, believing the greasy lotion would make it glide out.

“Help!” I looked around the pool. “Someone help!”

Feet slapped against the concrete of the pool deck. The lifeguard’s short bob bounced up and down as her arms waved in big circles. Three sharp blasts from her whistle and the pool emptied and she sprinted through the crowd and high-stepped into the water. Only me, the lifeguard and Ravi remained in the pool. A thousand eyes stared at us, but I only noticed the wideness of Sarah’s. She paced along the edge as if ready to jump in to help. Her hand over her mouth. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me or Ravi. I wanted to call out to her, to say I was sorry for how I acted, but I only tasted my dry tongue. 

“Scissors!” commanded the lifeguard. Her partner knelt on the pool deck and searched the first aid kit. He held out a pair of shears, but the lifeguard’s hand shook and she fumbled them. They plopped into the water between my feet. I retrieved them, then clutched a shock of Ravi’s hair near the skimmer.

“Kid, leave it to us,” the lifeguard said.

 I flicked my thumb; the scissors opened. Ravi’s scalp was red and swollen.

“Aaron, don’t,” he whimpered, his face scrunched.

Sarah squatted into a ball on the deck as Whitney and Jesse rubbed her back. Everything about Sarah looked different now. Her face red with heat. Her hair frizzed. She fanned her eyes. Her distress seemed calculated. She seemed like a stranger. Behind them, the moustached stage builder laid down his hammer and wiped his hand on a rag.

I turned to Mike. “What should I do?”

Sweat clustered on his forehead. “It’s hot, Aaron. Hair grows back.”

“Please,” Ravi said. “You don’t understand.”

“Cut it already! Help him!” Sarah walked closer but the lifeguard blocked her.

“Back up!”

Ravi sobbed gently into his hands. “Please. Don’t do this.”

I closed the scissors and glided my hand to the top of his head. A band-aid floated by.  “Drain the pool.”

“No way.” The lifeguard motioned to the crowd. “He’s not the only person here.”

The stage builder had ambled over. He approached me, his face calm as he ran a finger over his moustache.

“Sir, you can’t—” the lifeguard said.

“Well, I just did.” He crouched next to the concrete ledge and rested a large palm on my shoulder. I smelled sweat and sawdust. “Kid.” The twang in his voice was comforting. He pointed to the half-built stage. “Kick-off be tomorra’ and the boys need to swing back at it.” He squeezed my shoulder and winked. “Tradition can’t be put on hold today.”

I squinted across the pool toward the stage, but the sun’s glare over the water burned my eyes. I closed them. Everything orange and red. My forehead slathered with sweat. I breathed and tried to think. Rivulets of Coppertone dripped off my nostrils.

"The whole crowd is waitin’ on ya,” the builder said.

I opened my eyes. “I’m not ready.”

“Get out of here,” the lifeguard said. “Leave the kid alone.”

The builder wiped his T-shirt sleeve across his face and tapped his watch, then sauntered away.

Ravi clutched my elbow. I struggled to clear space in my mind. A terrible wet belch bubbled from his chest. “Please, Aaron.” It left a wet trail down his chin. “Beg them not to.”

I looked at his face. He had the same flat contours around his nostrils as me. Like me, his ears stuck out. Our big lips matched. My grip tightened on the scissor handles. Ravi’s hair strangled in my hand. I looked back at Mike and Sarah. Mike stared at his feet while Sarah’s hand dropped to her stomach and she mouthed, Please.

“Get on wit it will ya,” the stage builder yelled from a distance.

I wrapped my arms around Ravi. The bones in our chests knocked together. He tightened his grip around my back, shaking, his shoulders crusted with salt.

“Māfa karanā,” I whispered. “I had it wrong.”

He exhaled, then coughed hard. I shielded his face from the crowd and looked up to the lifeguard. “Please drain the pool.”

“Kid, give me the scissors.” The lifeguard stepped forward and unclipped the walkie-talkie from her shorts.

I let go of Ravi and held the shears between our faces. Ravi’s eyes went flat.

“Is it still there?” I said.

“What?” Ravi wiped his face.

I held up my thumb.

Ravi lifted his hand and showed me the white line splitting his own wrinkled thumb. Pressing mine into his, I nodded. Then I opened the scissors, gripping one handle.

“Bhaji, no!” Ravi said.

 I slashed the cool blade across my palm, swallowing a yelp. I dropped the scissors and dunked my hand into the water and pressed beside the wound. Blood spun and twisted at our knees like smoke from a signal flare. My legs wobbled.

“Why do that? You don’t have to prove anything to me.” Ravi rubbed his eyes, then exhaled. “Grab the scissors.”

I bent into the water and retrieved them. Ravi reached for the scissors as I stood, but I tossed them onto the pool deck. Blood rushed from the cut, thick and strong. I focussed on Ravi and tightened my grip on his hair. His eyes were red. He squeezed my shoulder.

On the deck, the lifeguard turned to her partner, motioned her hand across her neck and spun her finger in the air. “Drain the pool.”

The other lifeguard signalled to the control room. Then they reached into their med kit, grabbing gauze and alcohol wipes.

The stage builder clapped his hands and whistled. “Get back ta work ya lazy sacks. Shows ova.” The saws and hammers returned, hard and fast. 

Mike’s eyes were wide. “What the hell?”

Whitney removed Mike’s arm from her hip. She returned to Jessie, whose mouth hung open.

Sarah shook her head at Ravi and I as red bloomed across her face. “You could’ve just cut his hair!” She grabbed her towel and stormed away with Jessie and Whitney. They strode past the stage builders, past the water fountain, past the outdoor shower, all the way to the change room without looking back.

Several lifeguards appeared on the pool deck and started corralling the crowd toward the exit.

“Aaron, I’ll wait for you!” Mike called, running to the changeroom.

I turned to Ravi. He twisted, trying to look down at the blood. It moved back and forth, inched its way to the skimmer. I watched it glide over and through Ravi’s hair. The pool slowly drained. The lifeguard asked again for my hand, but I kept it in the water. The blood streaked toward the drain in a long thread, then bobbed and clustered before it began to circle.

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Image: Max Ammo, Croco Zine, 2020, digital illustration