At first she thought everyone gone, but the gentle lap of water told her otherwise and, upon moving closer, she saw Troy and Carl swimming in long fluid strokes. She kept in shadow and watched them glide effortlessly along, and it was only when they reached the pool’s edge and turned in near-choreographed symmetry that she saw they were naked and also that Troy had seen her. He interrupted his stroke to raise a hand and wave. Jennalee waved back, then hurried on, Donna Witherspoon’s voice chasing her with chants about butt fucking. Inside her room she stripped away the bikini, took up her iPod, and climbed among tangled sheets clutching Bascomb Bunny, a worn remnant of childhood. Through her earbuds she took in the slow movement of Beethoven’s 7th. The haunting yet lyrical piece soon put her into a fitful sleep.