Um, yes?

[blakeslate]

Blake Slate jumped. The clear chlorinated water engulfed his body as he did a swan dive off the high dive of the pool at his new school. He bleh out his nostrils as his head entered the water and he kicked with his feet, doing a flip under the water he kicked towards the surface.

He loved to swim, apart from playing his bass and partying. Swimming was up in the list, next to skate boarding and biking.

Anyway, he came above the surface and opened his eyes to barely see through his black hair, he moved it out of the way as it resisted and clung to his head. If he could see his face he would see his brown eyes and the running eyeliner and mascara. Oh well. He had forgotten to wash off his make up.

He treaded watter in the seven foot side of the pool and then went over to the edge and hoisted himself up with a heave and let the water drip off of him. His mind traveled to his bass that was sitting in his bedroom in his house. Black Fender, new coat of paint and a new set of strings that he hadn't yet had time to tune yet. He wish he brought it with him, but alas he only brought a towel.

He looked down at his tan torso and admired his four pack then his black trunks that clung to his legs....... He looked around wondering why nobody else was there at the pool. From what he had seem most people were nice and athletic. But that can always be mistaken at first glance. Nobody is what they seem on the surface. He had made that mistake before and...that was something he tried not to reflect on. He had come here to forget the past. To forget his stupid mistakes and start fresh.

He stiffled a yawn before he slipped back into the water and started to do laps. Going from side to side, then swimming the entire length of the olympic size pool.

[theo]

<sup>It was a widespread misconception among Guildwood High that Sandy was a stiff, serious slave to his work. It was only partially true. Sure, Sandy spent more time doing his work than actually sleeping or eating... but that didn't mean he never had fun. "Fun" was just a relative term. Many things were fun to different sorts of people. Sandy thought that watching C-Span was fun. He also thought that trekking through Indian rainforests was fun. So, there was much to be lost in translation. A more plausable, easy to understand, pleasure was swimming. Sandy did, in fact, like to swim, like most other teenagers.

In fact, Sandy was craving a bit of a dip at that very moment. From his dorm window the sun was shining warmly against the pane and pooling across his back. Sandy restlessly changed positions in the chair he was sitting in before closing his textbook. Homework, done. Sandy stood and stretched before meandering over to the small indenture in the wall they'd like to call a "closet". He pulled his navy blue swimming trucks from a small drawer and changed out his pants for them.

Throwing a white towel over his shoulder, Sandy exitted his dorm and walked down the cold, long hallways to the pool. It was quiet around the school; the only sound coming from the rhythmic flip-flopping of his sandals. A smooth, easy stride carried him down to the lower level and the grounds. The smell entered his nose as he opened the gate, and he balked at it. Chlorine. Not like the fresh, running waters of rivers and streams. But, oh, well, this would do for now.

Sandy complacently placed his towel down on a chair, looking up to notice another guy who seemed to just get out of the pool. Sandy felt slightly awkward, being alone at a pool with another guy and all. Perhaps the other was just leaving or something. Perhaps Sandy could get by just ignoring him. Unfortunately, Sandy wasn't the social butterfly of the schoolyard. He was just intent on a serene, peaceful swim.

Sandy removed his shirt with not an ounce of flourish - not too keen on attracting attention. His golden skin shown softly against the rays of the warm sun and the pavement was hot under his bare feet. Three-quarters of his celtic lion's head tattoo peeped out of his shorts on his left flank; roaring it's head off. Satisfied, Sandy meandered towards the pool stairs.</sup>

[blakeslate]

As Blake harshly planted his feet against the rough stone that was the side of the pool to push off and complete yet another lap, he spotted a boy entering. He saw him in the half second his face was above the surface before he was submereged with his eyes welded shut in hopes not to burn them from the over dose of chlorin that was in the water.

He swam back to the other end, his mind drifting like it normally did.

Can you believe it! I got an A on my algebra II quiz!

The words of his sister's friend drifted into his head. He really liked that little girl. She had a sweet voice, real nice. He called her the Angel. Mostly because if she looked at him right with those crystal eyes of hers he would have given her the world. Yeah.... he really did like her. Too bad he would never see her again. He even missed her funeral. He had to go to court because of a friend of his grand theft auto charges. He was an eye witness appealing for his friends release. Even though his friend did do it....more on that later. Angel died of a brain tumor that was located just behind her eye, a hard spot to get to. She died during surgery that was supposed to do something. Blake couldn't really remember the details, it grieved him usually when he thought on it. And of course. Being the softy that he was, as he thought about her, he got a lump in his throat.

And he coughed. Great. Except he was still under water and inhaled a mouth full of water who knows how old or who all had been in it.

He stopped swimming and surface, automatically he coughed up the bile and chlorine water that had went into his lungs. As he managed to tread water he coughed harshly, making the veins in his neck to bulge and his eyes turn red and his face darken.

He swam with one arm and kicking over to the edge of the pool, which was close enough. He got an arm over the top of the pool and coughed hard, trying to rid his body of all the chlorine. God! it tasted foul. He looked down at his hand and saw a black liquid and nearly paniced. Then he remembered that his eyeliner and mascara were not water proof. He rolled his eyes as he shoulders shook as he was racked with coughs. Now the only thing running through his head was.

You Idiot! You should drown! You promised yourself you wouldn't think about her anymore! She's dead! And it will always be that way!

He scolded himself. He suddenly stopped coughing. He breathed in through his nostrils only to start coughing violently again.

Dammit!

[theo]

Sandy put his old, rigid hands on the top of the stairs to the deep end, letting his feet slide down to their first step. The water was tepid; quite lukewarm. Sandy was glad it wasn't freezing cold like most swimming pools. It most likely meant that the nights were warming up, as the water no longer lost most of the heat it had absorbed from the sun. There was damn chemistry popping up all over the place - specific heat and hydrogen bonds and such. It was like he couldn't go anywhere without thinking about some advanced aspect. Why not enjoy water for just being water?

He took another step down, pausing a moment to watch the other swimmer coast by. The guy wasn't a bad swimmer at all. Quite strong actually, Sandy was impressed. Going back to his own business, Sandy pushed off from the stairs slightly, drifting away with his face just out of the water, letting the sun rest on it. His arms gently stroked in a circular motion, keeping him afloat, but stationary at the same time. He closed his eyes for just a moment. How quiet and peaceful this was. A little bit of relaxation.

The world is a terribly weary and tedious thing. It throws an immeasurable amount of "crap", for lack of a better word, your way and just keeps it coming. If it's not one thing, it's another. A person has to always be on guard, anticipating where the next blow is coming from in order to thwart it. Always tense, always ready, and always bleeding, for some things strike you down in the most unfair ways. There are no rules in circumstance, no boundaries, whatever fate has in store is likely to throw, and whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. It was only through little moments of peace could any rest be had. It was like a blissful, horrible, coma.

But of course, those moments never lasted forever. A hard, discursive set of coughs from another sent Sandy's eyes open in a flash, back into reality. Dazed slightly, Sandy rivetted to find where the guy was, hoping he wasn't drowning. Thankfully Sandy spotted him pulling himself out of the water and onto the concrete. However, he didn't sound too good. Sandy kicked into action and jumped out of the pool. He didn't like the sound of this.

"Hey mate, easy does it now," Sandy reassured, but didn't sound particularily reassuring. He squatted down next to the boy, wrinkling his forehead at the amount of black substance on his face. Sandy wasn't particularily fond of make-up on guys, but that was beside the point. Sandy hesitated. What now? Heimlich? CPR? Ugh, God no. Sandy looked around - why did he choose a day with no one around to drown?

[blakeslate]

Blake felt like his chest was about to collaspe in on itself. Why, why did he have to almost drown on what? His third day here? Maybe the fifth day? Geez, serves him right to try and have fun.

Oh well if he got out of this alive it would be the kiddy pool for him... nah. He just would stick to thinking about swimming, when swimming, and try not to relfect on his oh-so-fruitful past.

He looked up at the boy. He held in his breath to try and say something, but was racked with a set of deep sort coughs. The ones that make your eyes get little black dots around them. He was not going to pass out! He couldn't! He hated waking up in places that he didn't voluntarily fall asleep in. It had happened to many times to him.

Like all those other times when he was slipped a roofy, either as a joke or because someone had confused his drink for a girls. But still, it was defiantaly high on the I hate it scale.

He rubbed his throat with his other hand, trying to sooth the burning feeling that was now threatining to make him sick. He inhaled and exhaled slowly and painfully through his nostrils.

"I-m...." he had to pause to cough," fine." Of course. The traumatic cliche that usually nocked things from bad to worse. Well that's just what happened. Of course.

His shoulders shook violently and he lost a little strength, and he fell to his back. Why was this hurting so bad? Maybe he swallowed a bug or something? What was it?

and why in the hell did he not bring his fucking cell phone?! He always had that thing with him. And be bet the othe rboy didn't bring his either. NOt that he was to quick to judge, maybe he was, but that wasn't the point. Something was wrong with him so it automatically pissed him off.

His muddled thoughts soon thinned as the black dots in his vision grew larger, blocking out his sight, he coughed again before his mind slipped into the quiet state of coma induced by suffocation.