SUNDAY

Danny Caldecott ran. He ran as a child; he ran in High

School; his running had earned him his scholarship at Arizona

State University. At the moment he ran for his life.

Why had he done it? Why did he push her? Christ!!! What the

hell was he going to do now???

He made his way down Lemon Street and over to the dorm. The

thick heat of the late-night air seemed to have intimidated all

those usually out by the pool. Nobody around... so far, so good.

Words like "alibi" and "witnesses" whirled in his brain.

Something moved ahead of him? No, just a shadow from a passing

car. Hood up over his head now-- the car didn't see him. Around

to the back of the dorm building.

How hard would it be to climb it? No way. Any open windows?

Not likely these days. He would have to chance the elevator.

No one coming, no one about. Two in the morning. What had he

been doing all night? Jesus, why had he forced her like that?

She pushed him into it. Yes she had. Pandy-the-bitch. Always

so smug, always so pretty, always just out of his grasp. She

pushed him.

Yes, she had pushed him. That's why it happened.

Not enough she took many of the same courses as him and showed

herself smarter. Not enough she had to beat him so badly at all

the track events they had in common. But she had to taunt him

all the time too, lure him in like a little tease... and then

slam the door on him before he got anywhere.

Well, he showed her tonight. It had been a mistake for her to

let him fix her drinks at the party, and to let him take her

home. He'd gotten her way too drunk... Still, from her

struggling and the scratches he now sported, Danny knew she had

not been drunk enough somehow.

All the things he couldn't think of when his dick was stiff now

flooded his ears like voices of accusation. What would she do?

Who would she tell?

He crossed the lobby unseen and pressed the elevator button,

praying for it to hurry.

Shit, his father would find out. Worse, he could actually go

to jail for this sort of thing nowadays... though his parents had

money and a great lawyer who might avert that. But what about

Pandy? What would she do?

What about what Randy Green had told him a couple of months

ago? About the two guys who used to mess with Pandy, and how

they suffered simultaneous accidents across town from each other

one afternoon? Randy said, "Bad karma..." and advised Danny not

to mess with the girl if he had brains.

But a stiff dick has no conscience, and often leaves the bearer

brainless.

The elevator arrived. Mercifully empty.

Danny went up to the fourth floor and snuck into his room. He

had not been seen so far as he could tell. Now what to do? Come

up with a story! Where had he been all night? What was he

doing? How did he get the scratches?

He dared not go to the bathroom until he stopped sweating and

his heart stopped pounding in his chest. The dorms had common

baths down the hall and anyone who might see him could not fail

to notice his agitation. He went into his kitchenette and washed

his face.

Water.

Blood colored the water as it flowed down the drain. Danny

washed it from his face and neck, and from his brown hair where

it had caked.

Why hadn't he stopped? There had been a moment when he knew he

could have stopped, could have walked out of the room and left.

For a while this evening he had even thought Pandy was ready to

give it up to him. She seemed to want it as much as he did.

They were about to go for it... and it was gone. She asked him

to leave.

The overwhelming feeling which had been building in him all

night suddenly drained out of him and he wanted to go. But he

fought back that feeling deliberately and he grabbed the young

girl and slammed her into a wall.

He could recall how it felt to rip off her clothes. How she

suddenly came alive and seemed to lose all trace of her former

intoxication or desire for him. And how it felt to force her

against her will. To make her yield to him, in bed if not on the

track or anywhere else.

She felt tight, like he had never felt tightness before, and

his climax nearly made him pass out. He never felt her raking

his face, his neck and shoulders. He felt only the violation of

her and he drank it in like he'd been dehydrated to the point of

death.

Then he jumped off her guiltily and ran with the rushing of

blood filling his ears. Even now his heart pounded from the

exertion. He had to calm down.

He had to think.

Water. The thought came again, unbidden.

He reached into the tiny fridge for a jug-gallon bottle of cold

water and drank right from the mouth. Good, things seemed to be

slowing down.

Water. What if you were seen?

Shit. Anyone outside, maybe in the bushes fooling around?

Maybe in the pool. Someone might have been in the pool and he

would have missed them.

He went to the window, still holding the jug.

Water.

He looked down at the pool, his view unobstructed by anything.

With relief he saw the pool remained as empty as it had seemed.

The moonlight glinted on the water.

Water.

He wondered how he could have lived nineteen years without ever

overcoming his fear of bodies of water.

As a child he had slipped into a pool and fallen to the bottom

like a rock, unable to move in total terror. His father had

jumped in to rescue him. Never since that day had he been able

to so much as approach the edge of a pool, much less go tubing

down the Salt River like all his friends kept asking him to do

with them.

He stared down at the pool, so cool and inviting. Still so hot

outside this time of year. He needed to cool off.

Water. Why not take a dive?

But no, that was plain silly. He'd probably drown. Besides,

he could not risk being seen on the way down to the pool. Even

if he could bring himself to walk down the steps of the shallow

end and just sit there out of any possible danger.

He had an absurd picture of himself opening the window and just

diving straight in. But no, the fall would kill him if he didn't

drown. Danny was by no means ready to end his life.

He had made a mistake. He could talk his way out of this thing

if he put his mind to it.

Yes, that's it.

He would say he was on medication. His dad had beat him as a

kid, that would help out too. That bitch Pandy always leading

him on and knocking him down. She had caused all this; he was

the victim here.

Water, came the insistent thought.

He returned his gaze to the water. Probably a lot of chlorine

in there, enough to sting the eyes bad. But chlorine worked

miraculous healing on open cuts on the skin. Maybe he should..?

I can't swim, he reminded himself. Stupidity. Got to think!

Water.

Danny Caldecott found the room stifling. He needed some air.

Needed time to think. Had to get himself out of this mess before

it got any worse.

Kill Pandy? That thought occurred to him more than once, but

he knew he would not have the guts to actually silence her the

way he knew she should be. He could barely deal with his own

guilt over the rape and she had brought that on herself!

Leaning out the window to catch the warm breeze on his face,

Danny could almost hear her irritating voice. Answering

questions in class; suggesting that she replace him in the

hundred-meter relays; wishing he would just jump out the window

and be done with it.

Jump? Never! He loved life too much. Not happening.

The sound of Pandy's voice almost seemed real. Danny had to

turn around and verify he remained alone before he satisfying

himself the voice existed only in his head.

Water.

He returned his attention to the water. Fascinating, vibrant

and energized it seemed tonight. He had been in this dorm

overlooking the pool for two entire semesters now and never once

had he bothered to examine the view.

It could not have looked this way every night, but tonight it

compelled him. Like a living thing it beckoned to him, inviting

his curiosity. What would it be like to swim? How would it feel

to be enfolded in waves like silken sheets, or like a mummy's

wrappings?

Danny Caldecott leaned out his window and drew in the stifling

heat like he fed on it.

Jump.

Danny pitched himself forward like a runner starting a relay.

He threw himself out and away from the building and with his legs

still pumping mid-air he descended forty feet into the pool. His

nose broke as he scraped the diving board on the way down.

A billowing cloud of red spread out from where he sank,

unnoticed and unregarded into the deepest section of the pool.

In a moment all returned to silence as before. No one heard

anything.

About two hundred feet from the pool, sitting nestled against

the building in the shadows sat a young woman, ostensibly

sleeping. A young woman wearing a hat and sunglasses, she only

seemed to come alive after the splashing stopped.

If someone had come upon her they would have found nothing

unusual about her. Sunglasses at night seemed to be a social

statement of some kind to many people.

When the eyes opened, a tear fell from one to roll down her

face. She stood and dusted off the dirt from her clothes. Then

Pandora Treemont returned to her dorm.

The pool service found Danny when they arrived a few hours

later at morning's first light. Everyone on campus agreed that

it was a terrible tragedy.

The next afternoon, Pandora Treemont started to pack up her

belongings for the Spring Break holiday. People in the dorm had

already gotten over the shock of Danny's apparent suicide. When

the police arrived to question everyone, they began to talk about

the "Real Danny", as opposed to what they would say at his

funeral.

Pandora Treemont had no intention of attending that event.