Chapter 2 - ONE OF YOU WAS AT THAT POOL
Claire was already in the water before she understood she had jumped.
She dragged Emma toward the edge.
Her arms screamed.
She pushed Emma upward, climbed out, and pulled her daughter completely onto the deck.
“Somebody, please save my daughter!”
No answer.
Claire gathered Emma into her arms.
“Emma! Please wake up!”
Nothing.
Her daughter remained still.
Claire pressed her cheek against Emma’s forehead.
Cold fear became something she could not name.
Then movement.
A shadow.
Claire lifted her head.
A boy in a black hoodie stood near the side doorway.
His face was hidden by distance and angle.
For one second he looked toward her.
Then he ran.
“Hey! Stop!”
He disappeared.
Staff arrived.
Then paramedics.
Then police.
Emma could not be saved.
The first hours afterward became fragments.
Questions.
Wet clothes.
A blanket around Claire’s shoulders.
A detective asking whether Emma could swim.
Claire answering badly.
A hospital room she could not remember entering.
Vanessa arrived crying.
Grant hugged Claire.
Margaret nearly collapsed.
Caleb did not come.
That detail stayed with Claire.
The next morning, she returned to Westbridge against everyone’s advice.
She had not slept.
She had not changed properly.
She did not care.
Fourth period had already started when she opened the classroom door.
Every student turned.
Claire slammed it behind her.
“Everyone, look at me!”
Silence.
She walked between the desks.
Her eyes moved from face to face.
One student lowered his gaze.
Another gripped the edge of his desk.
Claire’s heartbeat thundered.
“One of you was at that pool.”
Students looked at each other.
Fear traveled through the room.
Claire reached the back row.
Caleb’s chair was empty.
Then the door opened.
Caleb stood there.
Black hoodie.
Pale face.
He stopped when he saw Claire.
For one second she was back at the pool.
The shape.
The height.
The hoodie.
Claire turned toward the class.
“One of you killed my daughter!”
A pencil dropped.
Caleb’s face went white.
The principal entered seconds later.
Claire was removed from the classroom.
By noon, she was placed on administrative leave.
By evening, parents had complained that she accused minors of murder.
Vanessa called.
“You need to stop.”
Claire stared at the wall.
“Where was Caleb yesterday?”
“At home.”
“He wasn’t.”
Vanessa went quiet.
Claire continued.
“He was at the pool.”
“No.”
“I saw him.”
“You saw a hoodie.”
“Where was he?”
Vanessa’s voice hardened.
“Claire, your daughter just died. You are not thinking clearly.”
The sentence was cruel because it sounded reasonable.
Then Caleb sent Claire a message.
One photograph.
A screenshot of a text he said he received the day Emma died.
The sender was Claire.
GO TO THE POOL. EMMA IS WAITING. DON’T TELL YOUR MOM YET.
Claire had never sent it.
Below the screenshot, Caleb wrote:
May you like
I WAS THERE BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME TO GO.
And when police checked the account logs, the message appeared to have come from Claire’s own school login.
