"I need you to let go of the lane line," I plead with the five-year-old girl in front of me.
She shakes her head vigorously and pulls closer to it. I can actually see the tiny muscles in her arms tightening. At least we’re in lane two, otherwise, she’d probably try climbing out of the pool.
I sigh and wipe my face. This is typical behavior on the first couple days of swim lessons, but we’re on the fourth.
"Honey!" her mom yells from the side. "Please, let go, and listen to John. He’s a very nice boy!"
I hold back a laugh. I’m seventeen and just under six feet, so it’s been a while since anyone has called me a boy.
"I won’t let anything happen to you," I say to the girl.
She gives me a fierce look.
"Have you drowned the other days?"
"No."
"You got floaties, and you got me. I won’
