The Italian Word for Kisses

Chapter 2: “It was just a stupid accident.”-1

Chapter 2: “It was just a stupid accident.”

Chaos.

It was like tuning into a film halfway. A girl was screaming by the steps. One of the other boys dropped into the water right after David. The lifeguard practically launched himself off his chair and into the water. And Tav was gripping the edge of his seat until his knuckles went white, not entirely sure why.

Then the swimming coach jumped in, too, and the water that was churned up was tinged pink on the surface.

“No,” Tav breathed as the cloud of blood drifted almost lazily to the top, sullen amongst the sudden frenzy of activity. No, no, no, no. It wasn’t Luca. Luca was fine, he was somewhere else. He always had trouble hearing in the pool. Coach Cooper always said he brought the whistle for Luca and his voice for everyone else. He just hadn’t noticed yet. He’d come up in a minute. He’d need air in a minute, and then he’d realise and get out of the pool, and everything would be fine. David had just hit the edge or broken his foot or something. It wasn’t Luca. It wasn’t.

Four heads broke the surface. The coach, the plastic whistle floating in the water. David, gasping and swearing. And the new kid, with a dark head lolling against his shoulder, streaked in blood.

“Luca!”

Tav bolted. He sprinted down the steps and skidded across the tiles. The lifeguard had Luca now, too, and Tav leaned down to help lift him out. He was completely still, and limp in their hands. The water made his skin slippery, and Tav knew—and didn’t care—that they were leaving bruises with how hard they had to hold him.

“Cup his head!” the new kid barked, and Tav did so, supporting hair slick with red and pink. His neck rolled, completely slack. Oh God.

“Luca? Luca, c’mon…”

It was a struggle to get him out of the water—Luca was heavy, Tav knew that—and when that limp body was laid on the tiles, Tav was promptly shoved out of the way by the lifeguard. He hovered, twisting his T-shirt in his hands, and his guts turned to water when Luca was flipped onto his side and the heel of a hand brought down hard into his stomach and ribs. Water flushed from his nose and mouth, but he didn’t cough.

“s**t,” the coach hissed.

“Someone get to reception and make sure they’ve called an ambulance,” the lifeguard shouted, already laying Luca back out. “He’s got a pulse. Someone make sure that ambulance is―”

One of the other boys bolted. The new kid, still kneeling by Luca’s shoulders, started tipping his head back, and the first hot tears washed over and Tav started to cry—really cry, for the first time in years—as the new kid pressed his mouth to Luca’s and gave him the kiss of life.

“Luca…”

Luca’s chest rose and fell only in time with the new kid’s kiss, and Tav sank to the tiles to find a slack, soaked hand and squeeze it. The skin was cold from the water, and his fingers felt thick and rubbery, unwieldy and d―

“Don’t die,” he begged. “C’mon, Luca, don’t die. It was just a stupid accident.” Across the tiles, David was fiercely resisting the first aider trying to look at his clearly broken ankle. “David’s gonna kill you if you die, c’mon, please.”

The new kid bent over him again; Tav squeezed that hand and stared at Luca’s opposite wrist in the lifeguard’s hands, unable to look at his face. There was watery blood leaking across the tiles and into the knees of Tav’s jeans. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t f*****g breathe!

“Hey, whoa, hey…”

Hands had seized Tav’s shoulders, but he clung to Luca’s fingers, unable to let go. “Don’t,” he begged the hands steadying him. He had to hold on. If he let go—if he let go, Luca would let go. Luca had been in tune with Tav for so long, if Tav let go…

A man came skidding across the tiles on his knees with a heavy bag. The lifeguard said, “Still got a pulse. Regular.” The new kid bent again.

“Luca,” Tav begged. “Luc, please―”

The shallow rise was interrupted and the new kid was shoved away by the lifeguard and the newcomer when Luca coughed.

And—and inhaled. Sharp and thin. And twisted violently, lurching against the lifeguard’s hands. The next cough turned into a retch, and he threw up on the tiles, a mix of bile and water.

“S’alright, kid, s’alright…”

“Tav, mate, c’mon, give him some space.”

Luca’s fingers clenched, and Tav shook off the hands trying to pull him away. “No,” he insisted. “No, no, no, he needs me, he needs me here…”

“Get me a towel down here!”

“Is that his name? Luca? Is that your name, son?”

“Luca Jensen, he’s one of my swimmers. Get that locker key off his wrist. Here, Aaron, go and get his things, grab his things for Tav to take back to his mam’s.”

“No,” Tav insisted, wrapping both hands around Luca’s. His fingernails were blue, and his skin grey and icy. He was shivering, and there was blood all down his face and neck. “I’m going with him. I’m going with him.” There were sirens approaching, and he shrugged off Coach Cooper’s heavy paw. “No! I’m going with him! He needs me there!”

Luca was breathing, but his chest was jerking and spasming, and his eyes were rolling under the blood. His hand had gone limp again in Tav’s grip, but when Tab squeezed and whispered his name desperately, his head turned very vaguely towards the sound.

“I’m gonna come with you, yeah?” Tav whispered. “Okay? I’m gonna come with you, and the coach’ll call your mam, and it’s gonna be okay, I promise, it’ll be okay.”

Boots sounded on the tiles, and a paramedic shouldered the lifeguard out of the way with expert apathy, snapping on a pair of gloves and asking questions before he’d even knelt down properly.

Tav ignored him. Luca was shivering under the towel somebody had found. His eyes were settling for staring at the overhead lights. He was still breathing in jerky swallows and gasps.

And when Tav whispered his name, he reckoned maybe Luca could hear him.