We Don't Swim Here

by Vincent Tirado

Genres: YA Social Themes; YA Horror; YA Mysteries & Thrillers

Synopsis

She is the reason no one goes in the water. And she will make them pay. A chilling new novel for fans of Tiffany D. Jackson, Lamar Giles, and Ryan Douglass.



Bronwyn is only supposed to be in rural Hillwoods for a year. Her grandmother is in hospice, and her father needs to get her affairs in order. And they're all meant to make some final memories together.



Except Bronwyn is miserable. Her grandmother is dying, everyone is standoffish, and she can't even go swimming. All she hears are warnings about going in the water, despite a gorgeous lake. And a pool at the abandoned rec center. And another in the high school basement.



Anais tries her hardest to protect Bronwyn from the shadows of Hillwoods. She follows her own rituals to avoid any unnecessary attention—and if she can just get Bronwyn to stop asking questions, she can protect her too. The less Bronwyn pays attention to Hillwoods, the less Hillwoods will pay attention to Bronwyn. She doesn't get that the lore is, well, truth. History. Pain. The living aren't the only ones who seek retribution when they're wronged. But when Bronwyn does more exploring than she should, they are both in for danger they couldn't expect.

Release date: May 2, 2023

Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire

Print pages: 316

Sample

ONEBRONWYN

I STARED UP AT THE TWO-STORY HOUSE, DIM BLUE AND faded with age, with a vague sense of dread. It looked large enough to swallow me whole and mean enough to consider the attempt. If the thick surrounding woods didn’t get to me first.

Dad was still unloading the U-Haul with the hired movers, grunting as they hoisted my wardrobe. Mom went inside with a suitcase. The sky was gray with cracks of blue where the clouds didn’t overlap. The light that shone through gave them a bright silver lining, which was ironic. There was no silver lining here.

We had just moved from Berwyn, Illinois, back to my Dad’s hometown in Arkansas—away from all my friends, my competitive swim team, and the intense schedule that kept me on track to one day becoming an Olympic swimmer. The reason made the situation more dismal. Lala had a stroke six months ago and was in hospice.

The news was a shock. Uncle Nathan, who lived in town, had kept the first stroke a secret from Dad. Mom said it was so Dad wouldn’t worry, but Dad didn’t see it that way. And the way they stayed up late at night, having hushed conversations that bordered on arguments, I wasn’t sure if that was the full story. It seemed like there was more under the surface, like a closed wound that was still suffering from an infection.

Dad visited a few times, but when it was clear Lala was not getting better, the decision was made. We would come to make the most of whatever time we had left with her, and Dad would help get her affairs in order.

It was only one year, but that didn’t make the situation any less shitty.

“Bronwyn, help your mother take in what you can, okay?” Dad said. “Oscar, Jerome, and I will bring in all the heavier stuff.”

I glanced at the U-Haul. It was small, and for good reason. The only ‘heavy items’ were my bed and a wardrobe for the room I’d be staying in. We didn’t need much. Lala’s furniture and her whole life were here, so we could use what she had instead of dragging all our stuff here and back.

“Sure, Dad.” I smiled and grabbed the nearest cardboard box. I managed to hold my smile until his back was to me.

The windowpanes had cracks, and tufts of grass poked out of the stone steps that led to the porch. Back in Berwyn, we lived in a similar two-story house, and sure, ours was worn in a way that told you people lived there. But this house—Lala’s place felt less like a lived-in residence and more like it was inhabited by ghosts.

The surrounding woods only added to that feeling. This place was rural, in the middle of nowhere. Back home, we had neighbors and sidewalks. I could go for a walk without the fear of coming face to face with bears or other wild animals. Now it was looking like I’d taken that safety for granted.

Inside Lala’s house, the hallway was long and narrow, flowing straight to what looked like the kitchen, with the living room on one side and a staircase on the other. The sound of cabinets opening and glass clinking told me Mom was checking things out. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d visited. It was probably when I had, several years ago. Dad did his best to keep the house well cleaned while he visited, but well, I wouldn’t be surprised if he let that slip. Grief does that.

I put the box down in a corner and decided to take a quick look around. The floors creaked under me like a warning. I started toward the kitchen when gravity p

ulled me down suddenly I grabbed onto the banister. I pulled myself up and stared down. The thin rug with tassels slid on the floor easily and had nearly taken me out before I was ten steps into the house.

“Christ…” I hissed under my breath. It was hard enough feeling like the entire world was against me, but now it felt like the house was trying to say I wasn’t welcome.

I rolled up the rug and shoved it to the side. There was no reason to leave a tripping hazard out when there were about a dozen more boxes to bring inside.

I took a cautious step forward. Then my feet moved without me thinking about where to go.

I’d been to Lala’s house before. I was too young to remember exactly when, but bits and pieces were coming back. Soft giggles vibrating off walls as my little legs ran up the stairs. The smell of pancakes, bacon, and eggs in the morning before I opened my eyes. The times she tried to get me to pronounce “abuela” correctly, but I couldn’t, so she became Lala to me. Still was, I guessed.

It had been a while since I’d seen Lala, but I remembered the smell of her lotion and feel of her arms around me—thick and secure, a loving warmth. I continued forward, simultaneously going on a curious tour of the house and down memory lane.

I suddenly remembered where the bathrooms were, the look of the sand-colored cabinets and white laminate countertops in the kitchen. I came to the kitchen at the end of the hallway.

“You okay, Wynnie?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I fanned myself with my hands. “It’s really humid in here.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” she said, looking around with vague distaste. Mom was trying to keep the peace, but I could tell she wasn’t fond of the move either. Like me, she had a whole life back in Illinois, friends she had brunch with on Sunday mornings, work. Sure, her job was remote, and she could work anywhere, but internet access didn’t exactly make a house a home. We were both out of our element.

Mom’s thick curls were tied back with a silk ribbon, framing her heart-shaped face and wide eyes that observed everything. I was told that I took after her that way—always watching and trying to make sense of things.

“Why don’t you open a few more windows. Hopefully, it’ll get a nice breeze flowing.”

Without another word, she turned on her heels and went down the hall. Then she called out, “Wynnie, do me a favor and grab the paper towels by the window, too. I don’t know why your father let it get so dusty in here.” She tsked.

Turning toward the kitchen counter, I unrolled a few sheets of towels. When I tore at the perforation, dust particles blew out and danced in the sunlight. The kitchen window was particularly dusty and when I started wiping the pane, I noticed a blur of movement outside.

For a second, I thought it was a bird. But then it happened again, and my eyes caught on a shadow. It was too big to be a bird.

Was that… a person?

By the way they ducked behind the tree, it was clear their intentions weren’t good.

A stack of boxes blocked the back door, so I zipped back down the hall to the front door, pushing by Mom.

“Bronwyn?” Mom yelled, shock hitching in her throat.

I didn’t slow down. Every tree looked the same in the wooded yard, but whoever was out here couldn’t get far without being seen.

“Wynnie, are you okay?” Dad ran to catch up. His breathing was heavy. I tossed a glance over my shoulder. His shirt was soaked with sweat from moving and the heat.

I stared back at the trees.

“Do we have any neighbors?” I swallowed.

“Unless you count a family of foxes as neighbors, no—there shouldn’t be anyone else within a mile of here.”

The rows and rows of trees only confirmed what he was saying. I looked back at Dad.

“Someone was spying on me through the window.”

“What?” Dad furrowed his brows. He took confident strides ahead of me and stopped before the tree line. “Did you see what they looked like?”

I opened my mouth and shut it. I shook my head. “No, they hid too fast.”

“Did you see if they were holding a weapon?”

“No…”

It was a shadow. It wasn’t like I could see any weapons, but some guns were small and easily concealed. What if someone thought the house was abandoned and was casing it for a robbery?

Dad stood still.

“Excuse me,” Dad shouted in the direction of the trees. “Now, I’m sure you didn’t mean to intrude, but this is private property. Would you mind stepping out and clearing up this misunderstanding?”

His voice was met with a slight breeze brushing over the tall grass. We both said nothing for a few moments, waiting, guarding.

“You sure it wasn’t a deer or a raccoon?” he asked, his voice much lower.

“I’m sure it was a person,” I whispered back. There was no mistaking it.

Dad’s shoulders rose and dropped with a deep exhale, and he strode toward the trees. My heart threatened to stop the closer he got to the nearest one.

There was one other time when I felt like I was being targeted. After a school dance, I walked home and someone followed me. They weren’t even sneaky about it, simply trailing behind me for several blocks. Part of me felt stupid for letting the walk go on so long, but I could see the guy clearly and I could point him out in a lineup if I needed to. In the end, I called my dad and he met me. The guy walked off, appearing to find something better to do than square up with my 240-pound, 6-foot father.

This time though, I had no idea who we were dealing with. I could only stare in shock as Dad twisted his body around the tree. I watched his face for any reaction, but he continued checking around the trees until it became dense woods at the back of the property. I slowly exhaled as he walked back to me and plopped a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“I didn’t see anyone. Maybe you’re tired from the long trip?” He gave a sympathetic smile.

I know what I saw, I thought again. But I didn’t argue. Instead, I followed Dad inside, ignoring the prickling sensation on the back of my neck.

______

The sun began to set by the time the movers peeled off. Our stuff was nowhere near unpacked, but it was all inside so we called it a day anyway. The smell of pepperoni pizza drifted through the kitchen and down the hall, beckoning me from the window in the living room. I didn’t press the issue with Dad, but I still had the unnerving feeling of being watched.

“Your pizza’s gonna get cold if you don’t eat soon, Wynnie,” Mom said.

After staring out at the dark woods, the kitchen light was almost blinding. I rubbed my eyes as I sat down at the short end of the kitchen island. The pizza was still hot, so I blew on it before taking a bite.

“So.” Dad cleared his throat. “Are you ready to start school this week?”

I bit back an exasperated groan. Hillwoods High School was only one of two high schools in town, and the second one was technically not even in town. It wasn’t like I had any choice.

“Yeah,” I lied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, it’s… you know.”

I glanced over at Mom who took the hint.

“Back in Berwyn, swim team was your whole world, and there isn’t a swim team here,” she said. “But we still want you to take this opportunity to expand you

r circle.”

“What circle?” I asked, keeping my tone even. “I don’t have any friends here. The circle is basically a dot.”

“That’s not true!” Mom said. “You have your cousin, Anais.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. A cousin wasn’t a friend—especially not a cousin I hadn’t seen in years. While it might’ve been true that we used to be friends, that was when we were ten. Then one time, she visited and was suddenly secretive about everything. Dad thought it would be a good idea to teach her to swim, but she wouldn’t even dip her toe in the shallow end of the community pool. When I dove in and showed her the dog paddle, she let out a blood-curdling scream, which made everyone uncomfortable enough for the lifeguard to kick us out.

Even weirder was what happened that night when we were going to bed. She slept on an air mattress, and I slept on my bed with my back to her. I heard her sit up, which I ignored, assuming she was going to go to the bathroom. But she didn’t. She just sat there and said the four creepiest words I’ve ever heard.

“Why didn’t you burn?”

I stopped breathing for the moment, too stunned to do or say anything. Really, how was I supposed to answer that?

I waited until I heard her lie down and turn over before I exhaled. To this day, I have no idea what prompted those words. I knew that even if I asked her, she wouldn’t tell me.

It was easier to accept we’d never be friends.

“She doesn’t count,” I said, taking another bite of my pizza.

“Okay, fine.” Mom put her hands up defensively. “Cousin Anais doesn’t count. But that means you’ll have to try to make friends.”

“I won’t make any promises.”

“I think Hillwoods does have a pool,” Dad said suddenly. “Or used to.” He had that far off look like he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, but it still gave me a bit of hope. “Yeah, it was part of the rec center. I remember your uncle and I used to try to climb down into it since it was always drained.”

That killed my hope.

“So, it’s closed?”

He nodded. “Now that I think about it, the rec center has been shut for a while, and the pool itself has been closed since before I was born. Sorry.”

“Fabulous.” I rolled my eyes.

I didn’t speak again for the rest of the dinner. Instead, Dad talked excitedly about driving around town and seeing what stayed the same and what had changed.

“Dad, you’ve been here. Don’t you already know?” I asked, half-heartedly. I was met with silence, and it forced me to look up.

“Well, you know, I’ve been busy with your grandmother. She’s not in town, and I’ve been goi

ng to see her.”

“You haven’t seen Uncle Nathan?”

I couldn’t help the hostility that seeped into my question. Dad had gotten into a fight with Uncle Nathan during one of his visits. Like, a huge one, practically a fistfight. No one would tell me what it was about, but considering I’d never heard Dad raise his voice, much less seen him raise a fist, I knew it was serious. Mom gave him an ultimatum, either he stayed away, or we all moved in. And here we are.

Again, only silence.

Mom gave me a pointed look. “Like he said, your father’s been busy.” She gave Dad a pointed look, too, and he forced a smile.

So, he and Uncle Nathan hadn’t made up. Still, they thought Anais and I should be best friends?

“All right. Keep your secrets.” I went back to my pizza.

“W-what secrets?” Dad stammered. He was a terrible liar.

Mom grabbed his hand and squeezed it. I looked away. I hated moving away from my swim team, my friends, and my entire life at the start of junior year. But it wasn’t like the situation was ideal for anyone. Lala was dying. Uncle Nathan and Dad were fighting. Mom didn’t seem to like the house, and she’d never been one for traveling, anyway. We all needed to adjust.

I looked down at the pizza grease collecting on my plate and remembered what Mom promised me before we moved—only one year.

“Wynnie?” Mom’s voice pitched up.

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed early.”

I took a moment to toss the paper plate in the trash before glancing out the kitchen window again. I knew I saw something earlier, but there was no point in bringing it back up. Instead, I forced myself up the stairs and into my bedroom. I drew the blinds on my window if only to feel safer before plopping into bed.

The darkness was only mildly comforting. Every time I’d close my eyes and start drifting off to sleep, it was like a bright light shone through my eyelids. But paranoia could keep me awake for only so long. By the time I fell asleep, the only glow I saw came from two fireflies that shined like eyes in the dark.

TWOANAIS

IT WAS SOMETIME AFTER 1:00 A.M. WHEN I STARTED GETTING ready. I knew this because most of the stuff on television was infomercial after infomercial with the occasional break for an old family-friendly sitcom rerun that people could only stomach at, well, 1:00 a.m. And even then, it was only because they were half-asleep.

It was dark—both inside and outside. The glow of the television matched that of the moonlight, and the house itself had fallen into a quiet sort of rhythm, like the heartbeat of a sleeping animal. I shifted off the couch and pushed the blanket aside. Mom always made sure to cover me from head to toe in the thick quilt, believing that it got drafty at night and the first floor was chillier than the second. Not that we had AC.

Underneath the couch, my running shoes waited side by side. After pulling on socks, I carefully slipped the shoes on and stretched into a standing position. Falling asleep on the couch always made me feel groggy with some muscle ache—the cushions were permanently out of shape. It wasn’t that my own room was unbearable or that my bed was ridden with bedbugs—rather that the floorboards leading out of my room were incredibly noisy, which was generally unhelpful when I needed to sneak out of the house.

Like tonight.

The side door was my favorite way out, if only because it was the most hidden. Mom and Dad’s window faced the street, and the neighbors couldn’t see much due to a thicket of bushes and low hanging branches. I closed the screen door, which waved even in the briefest of winds, so I made sure to stick a few bricks in front to hold it shut. The air was cool, brushing the beads of sweat from my forehead and sharpening my senses.

At night, most of Hillwoods became what I liked to call a “blindspot.” The rules and rituals did not apply, as if the town itself were asleep and couldn’t be bothered to regulate our nightly lives. Not that any of us had much of a nightlife.

Still, the road was empty and silent. The shadows and peering eyes were shut away in the dark.

For once, I could breathe. Putting one foot in front of the other, I headed down the driveway. It was my last chance before everyone realized Bronwyn had moved in and all hell broke loose.

I stopped for a moment, thinking I heard a soft chime. The leaves were rustling, but that was it. I swallowed and took a few more steps until I heard it again: light notes. The words were melodic and hard to decipher. On instinct, I covered my ears. It couldn’t be her—not Sweetie—not now. We didn’t start the ritual for another few days—couldn’t she wait until then to wreak havoc?

I swallowed and looked around. The trees loomed over me. I couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from, only that it kept coming and was getting closer. It followed me as I trotted ahead, growing louder the farther I walked. Eventually, I set into a brisk run—she was not getting me, not when I was so close to finding my way out.

A short figure leaned out from behind a tree. The darkness rendered them more shadow than person, obscuring every detail of their body. And yet, by the sound of their muffled laughter, I knew who it was. My incredibly annoying ex.

I exhaled sharply and stomped over to her. “Hanna. What are you doing here?”

She threw the question back at me. “What are you doing here, Anais? It’s almost 2:00 a.m.”

“You don’t live around here, Hanna. How did you even get to this side of town?” I clenched my fists.

“Borrowed my brother’s moped. Need a ride? It’s around the corner.”

Seeing as she wasn’t going to answer my question, I pushed past her. “I’m fine.” The smell of cigarette smoke made my stomach flip, which pissed me off even more.

“Hey!” Her hand hovered in midair, as though she were reaching out to me, before thinking better of it.

“I don’t have time for this, Hanna.”

She put her hands in her pockets. She was wearing an oversized hoodie with track pants that were too large for her. Though her hoodie cloaked her head, I knew she had her hair tied back at the nape of her neck. Seeing her like this made my chest ache—and urged me on my path.

A few seconds later, Hanna jogged past me. ...