I start running as soon as I close the door. My bare feet burn on the sizzling sidewalk, the sound of cursing slowly dying away behind me as I go. I keep racing, the soles of my feet pounding the sun-warmed concrete. I run until I can't hear his voice anymore. It's like if I can't hear him now, I won't ever have to listen to him again. I let myself believe that as I race toward the pond, gritty sidewalk bleeding into stalks of untrimmed grass on crumbling brown soil. The dry dirt changes into wet sand, and when I finally stop running, hands on my knees and breath ragged, the water comes up to my ankles. 

Swimmers' Pond. A circular pool of blue, wonderful in every way. It's 300 feet across and as round as they come, it's bottom sloping downward in a perfect bowl shape. It's the blue-est blue you will ever find in water, a hazy image of swaying plants on soft sand slowly fading towards the deepest part at the center. 

I jump in. My t-shirt and shorts are already hanging on the branch of a nearby tree, water swirling around the swimsuit I snuck under my clothes. It's a yellow tankini my mom gave me for my birthday last summer. That was before Scott came, back when everything was perfect and yellow like the sunshine on our big yard in the country. 

Perfect and yellow. The swimsuit is one of my few reminders of those days with just me, my mom, and our pets. I hug my knees to my chest as I float on my back in the water and think about how my mom used to be so happy. Happiness, like my swimsuit, is yellow. Yellow like lemon drops and Suzy the golden retriever and Mr. Meow's almond eyes. 

Even Mom doesn't like to be happy like that anymore, I think, making salty tears drip down my face and join the cool, fresh water of the pond, Scott took my happy Mom from me. It is like he steals the happiness right out of her and never, ever gives it back. My hair spreads out behind my head in wildly swaying tendrils as I push off from the edge of the pond with my toes. I spread my arms and legs out as I float toward the center of the pond, a stray blond tendril making its way into my face. No, not blond. Yellow. I have yellow hair, and I got it from my dad, who was happy even when he died. 

          Tears dripping down my face turn into a steady flow on each cheek at the thought of my dad. Images of his full smile, his deep dimples, the stubble on his chin, and his pale, yellow hair under a lopsided baseball cap pour into my vision, making it fuzzy with nostalgia and tears. 

          My mom won't be getting home from her job for another thirty minutes. That gives me thirty more minutes of doing nothing until I can go home again. Going home now would mean facing Scott alone, and I don't want that. He'd yell at me, telling me how I should never run off without permission, how I'm such a bad child, how my friends are such bad influences. 

          Speaking of friends, they should be here any minute... 

          I hear a rustle in the nearby bushes and immediately shoot upright, diving under some reeds on the opposite side of the pond from where I came. I try my best to hold my breath, hoping with all my might that it isn't Scott. 

          A voice erupts from the other side of the pond. "I see you, Hazel! You better come out or I'll tell your mother!" Worst Scott imitation ever. I stand up from behind the bushes and laugh, running my hand over my head to push my hair from my face. 

          "Did you seriously think I would fall for that?" I call across the lake at my friends standing gingerly at the edge of the water. Zoey is in her swimsuit, blue water lapping cheerily at their toes. 

          "You totally fell for it, Hazel!" Zoey yells back, walking out into the water as it splashes up around her ankles. 

          "That sounded nothing like Scott," shoot back, wading out to meet her in the water. I keep going until I make it back to the shallow water on the other side of the pond. 

          "First off," she counters, holding up her pointer finger, "you hid before you even heard us, which means you thought Scott was here. Second off," she holds two fingers in my face and gestures behind her, "I'm not the one who made the terrible imitation." 

          Connor's standing behind Zoey looking down. He's still at the edge of the water, and his hands are in his pockets. He's wearing a green t-shirt and jeans, a contradiction to Zoey's bright red bikini with floppy bows on each of her hips and shoulders. 

          "Hi," he says, looking up from shoes and at me. 

          "What," I blurt, reddening as I realize how stupid I sound. 

          "Hi," he repeats, his brown and green eyes still focused on me. 

          "Hey," I mumbled, trying and failing to put my hands in non-existent pockets. And before you ask, no, I don't like him. I'm just like this with everyone. Awkward, shy, and always saying the wrong thing, even if it's at the right time. Well, almost everyone. That excludes Zoey and my mom. Everyone else... well, you get the picture. 

          I walk up to the tree with my shorts hanging on it and grab my phone from my pocket. I check the time. 5:43. I sigh and stuff the phone back into my shorts. Half an hour minus a few minutes. 

          I sit down under the tree and let the cool shade wrap around me. Zoey and Connor are arguing about something, so I close my eyes and lean my head against the firm bark of the tree. I sit like this for a few minutes until I hear a splash of water and a curse, yanking me out of my thoughts. My eyes flutter open to reveal an interesting scene at the edge of the lake. 

          Connor is soaked, wet hair clinging to his face. Zoey is standing a few feet out into the water with her hand over her mouth, something she does whenever she laughs. They start yelling at each other, and Connor spurts a couple more curse words, making me cringe. Whenever he does that, my mind automatically drifts to Scott, who spends the better time of his day cursing at people. And by people, I mean me. 

          The yelling turns to laughing, which turns into a full-on water fight. I want to join, but I don't. I mean I can't. I mean, obviously I can, but... I just don't. It would be fun, but I just stay beneath the tree and watch. 

          "Hey, Hazel, come on!" Zoey beckons, "I need help!" 

          "Nah, I don't wanna," I say, pulling my knees into my chest. 

          "Hazel, I know you do." Zoey pouts. 

          "Zoey, if she wanted to, she would," Connor says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And I would, right? Of course I would. If I wanted to, why wouldn't I?