"Uh, right-kneed, I guess."
"Loosen up your right hand, then. And pull your right knee up, tuck it under you." She did. A moment later both knees were under her.
"Now crawl to me."
She looked down at the rocking bowl of water.
"Come to me, Ivy."
The distance was only eight feet-it looked like eight miles. She made her way slowly along the board. Then she felt a hand gripping hard on each arm. He stood up, pulling her up with him, and quickly turned her around. Ivy went limp with relief.
"Okay, I'm right behind you now. We'll take one step at a time. I'm right here." He began to move down the ladder.
One step at a time, Ivy repeated to herself.
If only her legs would stop shaking. Then she felt his hand lightly on her ankle, guiding it down to the metal rung. At last they stood together at the bottom.
Mr. McCardell glanced away from her, obviously uncomfortable.
"Thank you," Ivy said quietly to Tristan.
Then she rushed into the locker room before Tristan or the others could see her frightened tears.
In the parking lot that afternoon, Suzanne tried to talk Ivy into coming home with her to the Goldstein house.
"Thanks, but I'm tired," Ivy said. "I think I should go… home." It was still strange to think of the Baines house as home.
"Well, why don't we just drive around some first?" Suzanne suggested. "I know a great cappuccino place where none of the kids go, at least none from our school. We can talk without being interrupted."
"I don't need to talk, Suzanne. I'm okay. Really. But if you want to just hang out, you can come home with me."
"I don't think that would be a good idea."
Ivy cocked her head. "You would think you were the one who'd been stranded up there on the diving board."
"It felt like it," said Suzanne.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd fallen from the ladder and hit your head on the concrete. I just invited you to Gregory's house."
Suzanne fiddled with her lipstick, rolling it up and down, up and down in its case. "That's just it.
You know how I am, Ivy-like a bloodhound on the hunt. I can't help myself. If he's there, I'll get completely distracted. And right now you need my attention."
"But I don't need anybody's attention! I had a bad time in drama club and-" "Got rescued."
"Got rescued-" "By Tristan."
"By Tristan, and now-" "You'll live happily ever after," said Suzanne.
"Now I'll go home, and if you want to come with me and start baying at Gregory, fine. It will keep us all entertained."
Suzanne debated for a moment, then stretched her freshly darkened lips. "Did I get it on my teeth?"
"If you didn't talk constantly, you wouldn't have this problem," Ivy said, and pointed to a smudge of red. "Right there."
When they arrived home, Gregory's BMW was in the driveway. "Well, we're all in luck," said Ivy.
But when they got inside the house, Ivy could hear her mother's voice, high and excited, being answered quickly each time by Gregory's. She and Suzanne exchanged glances, then followed the sound of the voices to Andrew's office.
"Is something wrong?" asked Ivy.
"That's what's wrong!" said her mother, pointing to a silk-covered chair. Its back hung in shreds.
"Ouch!" Ivy exclaimed. "What happened to it?"
"Perhaps my father was filing his nails," Gregory suggested.
"It's Andrew's favorite chair," said Maggie. Her cheeks were quite pink. Her sprayed hair was falling out of its twist in grasslike wisps. "And this fabric is not exactly cheap, Ivy."
"Well, Mother, I didn't do it!"
"Let me check your nails," said Gregory.
Suzanne laughed.
"Ella did it," Maggie said.
"Ella!" Ivy shook her head. "That's impossible! Ella's never scratched anything in her life."
"Ella doesn't like Andrew," Philip said. He had been standing quietly in the corner of the room.
"She did it because she doesn't like Andrew."
Maggie whirled around. Ivy caught her mother by the hand. "Easy," she said. Then she examined the back of the chair. Gregory watched her and examined the chair himself. It seemed to Ivy to be too finely shredded-a job too convincing for Philip to have pulled off. Ella must have been guilty.
"We're going to have to declaw her," said Maggie.
"No!"
"Ivy, there are too many valuable pieces of furniture in this house. They cannot be ruined. Ella will have to be declawed."
"I won't let you."
"She's just a cat."
"And this is just a piece of furniture," Ivy said, her voice cold and steely.