“Stop it,” I said. “You shouldn’t be laughing. You shouldn’t play the Stranger anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because of the movie.”
My brother stopped laughing.
“It wasn’t a movie.”
“Yes it was.”
“No,” my brother said. “Movies aren’t real.”
It took me a moment to understand what he meant. Because he didn’t say any more, and I didn’t either. Eventually my brother rose from the backseat, like a vampire rising from his tomb. For some reason, he looked as pale as one, too.
“Where are you going?” I said.
He handed me the keys and said, “I’m going to the pool.”
* * *
The chain-link fence rattled, shaking under someone’s weight. I rolled over in my pool chair, to find my brother, to ask where he was going, to yell at him for leaving me again. He had already left me in the van, where I waited for the tow man for what felt like forever before giving up and leaving the key in the ignition. But my brother was hovering in the pool, his eyes on the woods side of the fence.
“It is I,” Chris said, “Sir Chris!” His voice boomed across the pool, in an unnecessarily grand way. I looked back at the front gate, which hadn’t moved.
“Where did you come from?” I asked.
Chris gestured toward the woods, then bowed. “I have come from my secret kingdom, good sire, a place of magic and nobility.” My brother swam to the side of the pool, rested his arms on the pool’s lip. “Ah, this must be the fabled swimmer of the Frontiers,” Chris said, “a serfdom famous for its watery ways. What say you, fellow nobleman?”
“What are you doing?” my brother said. “Why are you talking like that?”
“Talking like what?” Chris said. “Oh, dear sire, I apologize. You must forgive me if my words are colored with my native tongue. You see, I have just returned from conversing with my kin, whom I haven’t seen in many a fortnight.” Kin. Fortnight. I tried to lock these words in my brain, so I could look them up later. “You see, I sometimes forget we have our own way of speaking, to which others’ ears may be unaccustomed.”
“What’s your kin?” my brother said.
Chris wagged his finger. “No, no, I cannot discuss them further. I will not.”
“Why not?”
“Why, because of the charlatan.” My brother looked as confused as I felt. “Have you gentlemen not heard? Oh, it’s most terrible. There is a man, disguised as me, who travels from pool to pool, preying on innocent swimmers, ruffling their feathers by making unwanted small talk about their families. You know, mothers and the like.” A small smile crept across Chris’s face. “But that’s not me. No, my cause is much nobler than petty gossip.”
“Whatever,” my brother said, and he pushed himself out of the pool.
“Dear sire, art thou questioning my purpose? Dost thou doubt my motives? If so, let me assure you, I come from an honest, polite people, mastered in the way of manners. Believe me, I will only broach the subjects deemed appropriate by you and your stableboy.” No one looked in my direction, but it was clear they were talking about me. “While I can understand your hesitation, what with that big-mouthed fool on the loose, I promise, if you give me your trust, I will not disappoint. I swear on my lineage, on the long list of my family’s dead, you will be happy to see what I have traveled far and wide to show you.”
He was obviously talking about the Gainer at this point, but it still piqued my interest. Maybe it was the language he was using, or maybe it was because Chris had only done the Gainer once, and although I had seen it performed in person, it didn’t seem real. It existed in my mind as a blur, its unnatural motion part of an amazing, dying dream.
“What dost thou say?” Chris said, offering my brother his hand. “Can I count on your loyalty, as you surely can count on mine?”
My brother extended his arm and let Chris pull him out of the water. “Just the pool moves,” my brother said. “Nothing else.”
“I wouldn’t dare of it, my liege,” Chris said. He put his hand to his chest, which was much browner than when we had first seen him, though still flat and unmuscular, like mine. “We will speak of nothing else. You have my word, I will only take you as far as you want to go.”
“Then I am yours, Sir Chris,” my brother said, and bowed his wet head. “Now have my stableboy fetch me my towel.”
* * *
“What do you think of my new trunks?” Chris said. He and my brother had dropped the medieval act and were now practicing pool moves. “Picked them up when I snuck by the old castle. Not too shabby, huh?” The trunks were blood-red and stopped well above his knees, much more suitable for swimming than the boxers he wore before. They’re lifeguard shorts, Chris explained, though they didn’t look new, as he had described. The thick white cross on the left leg was cracked, and some of the lettering had peeled away, so that life was much more visible than guard.
“They’re nice,” my brother said, “now watch this.” He flipped into the pool, crookedly and with a widely spraying splash, but landing upright. This was the first time I’d seen him flip.
“Whoa!” Chris said. “What in the world? When’d you get so good?”
My brother swam to the side. “I’ve been practicing, like you told me.”
Chris gave him a high five, but I stayed where I was, sitting in the shallow end. That was awesome, Chris told him, but keep your body balled tight, my man. You’re all over the place. Remember: one smooth, even motion. My brother nodded, listening to every word Chris said, and then he flipped again. This time a little straighter, a little less messy.
He flipped several more times, steadily improving, and soon he was running to the diving board instead of walking, becoming more confident the closer he came to perfection. Smiling wider the more Chris cheered him on, and for the first time since we’d watched the tape. I should have been happy for my brother, for his success. I should have been up there with Chris, cheering him along, instead of rooting against him, hoping he would hit his head on the board, just nick it, or fall flat on his stomach. But no one was paying attention to me. It was Chris and my brother, off on a wild adventure, while I was left to tend the horses.
I grew tired of playing by myself, and began walking around the inside of the fence, circling it again and again, raking my hands against the chain link like I was the prisoner. Like I was the Stranger looking for a way out and they were the ones who should be afraid of me.
Still, no one noticed. After my brother mastered the front flip, he and Chris took a break. They stood next to the deep end and discussed what move my brother could do next. Had my brother ever tried a back dive? Chris wanted to know. No, my brother said. Chris put his hand on my brother’s shoulder. He let it linger, and they didn’t see me. They didn’t see me sneak behind my brother, creep closer and closer until I was close enough to reach out and hug. They didn’t see me slowly raise my arms, then with a flash throw them at my brother, shove him violently into the pool.
My brother fell on his face, and the water popped as it punched him in the stomach. He didn’t sink, though, like part of me wanted him to. He thrashed in the water, immediately angry, immediately understanding what I had done. Before I thought to run, he was out of the water, his mouth open, his hands tensed into claws. He was the Stranger, only he wasn’t playing. I hid behind Chris. I put his body in front of mine and held on to his waist. My brother’s feet slapped the concrete, louder and louder, and I squeezed Chris and begged him to protect me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Chris said. “Easy there, big man.” He put his arms out like a protective gate, and my brother bounced around, telling Chris to move, to get out of the way.