Swim Recruit

by Jennifer Lane

  ~*~

  “How’d you like the meet?” Amanda asked, plunking her tray down across from me on the table.

  The volume of chatter in the dining hall was disconcerting, and I took a second to answer. “Uh, it was great. That’s awesome you guys won.”

  She scrunched her nose, digging into her green salad. “Not that big a deal — Illinois is rebuilding. Indiana’s the team to beat this year.” Amanda glanced at my tray of food. “Ugh, you’re actually eating that Mystery Meat Stroganoff thingy? Looks gross.”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to get.”

  Two more women’s swimmers sat down at our table as Amanda stood, curling her fingers to her palm, beckoning me. “C’mon, Abby, let’s get you some better food. Be right back, girls.”

  They nodded, and I dutifully followed Amanda toward the kitchen. She waved as we passed a table full of men’s swimmers, and my attention drifted over to the corner, where one swimmer sat all by himself. I’d recognize that untidy blond hair anywhere.

  Reese.

  He happened to look up just as my eyes landed on him, but he immediately averted his gaze. I thought I saw a blush color his cheeks as he shifted in his chair. I hadn’t seen him at the women’s meet, and I wondered what happened with his coach. When I took a faltering step toward his table, Amanda glommed on to my elbow, guiding me in the other direction.

  “It’s stir fry night!” she said brightly, rushing me into the kitchen. “We’ll make you a kick-butt dinner, Abby.”

  When I emerged with a plate of steaming chicken, rice, and vegetables, Reese’s table was noticeably empty. I hid my disappointment with a plastic smile as I rejoined the women swimmers.

  They moaned about how they’d have to study all day Sunday in order to catch up, and I tried not to eat the entire plate of stir fry. It was surprisingly tasty, and I was grateful to Amanda for saving me from the congealing noodle dish on my left. I noticed she’d only eaten a salad with minimal dressing and some cottage cheese. She seemed nervous as she watched her teammates shovel in copious carbohydrates — the typical swimmer’s fare.

  I scooted my plate toward her. “You gotta try this, Amanda. You were right — it’s really good.”

  Her smile was tight. “Ah, I shouldn’t.”

  “You guys had practice and a meet today,” I said. “It’s okay.”

  Her attention zoomed in on my stir fry. She seemed to waver for a few seconds, but I felt relieved when she finally grabbed her fork and took a bite. Amanda was just finishing the rest when I felt a male presence hovering over the table. I looked up to find a brown-haired guy giving me the onceover, his deep eyes challenging me with their stare.

  Then something clicked, and my eyes opened wide with recognition. “Tyler!”

  He grinned, sliding a chair out and joining us at the round table. “Hey, Abby.”

  Amanda looked confused. “You guys know each other?”

  “I’m from Cincinnati too,” Tyler said. “We swam at the same high school. How’s Tim?”

  “Timiteo es feo,” I immediately responded, leading us both to snicker. Our coach had been forced to suffer through his swimmers’ novice efforts at testing out new vocabulary words from Spanish class.

  He adopted a nonchalant posture. “So, how’s Taylor?”

  I could tell he was more interested than he’d let on. My older sister, Taylor, was now a senior at the University of Washington, but she’d been on the receiving end of Tyler’s unrequited love when they were in high school.

  “I’m not that into him, and there’s no way ‘Taylor and Tyler’ will ever work,” she’d told me, wrinkling her nose. “Dad would never let me hear the end of it.”

  Taylor had left me all alone to deal with our parents’ crumbling marriage, and I wasn’t too keen on talking about her. “She’s fine.”

  “Is she still swimming?”

  “No, she had to stop because of her bad shoulder.”

  Sarah — the backstroker Suzie said had improved greatly in college — suddenly seemed interested in our conversation. She studied Tyler. “You used to date this Taylor chick?”

  Tyler bristled. “Taylor is Abby’s sister, not just some chick.”

  Sarah smirked. “Defensive, are we?”

  I glanced back and forth between them, sensing some underlying tension, which I tried to diffuse by asking him a question. “Tyler, when are you graduating?”

  “Not for another year and a half,” he answered. “So we can swim together next year, just like in high school.”

  “Who said I’m committing to Northwestern?” I asked.

  “I am.” He smiled charmingly. “I’m the team captain, and I say you’ll love it here.”

  “You will,” Amanda chimed in, bobbing her head up and down. “Ignore anyone who tells you something different.”

  Tyler gave her a strange look, and she explained, “Reese talked to Abby.”

  “Damn that Pieces!” Tyler scowled. “Don’t listen to that misdirected freshman, Abby. He’s full of crap.”

  “But, you guys,” I protested, “he didn’t say anything negative. Don’t worry.”

  “Doesn’t matter anyway,” Tyler said. “Coach just told me he suspended him.”

  I felt my stomach sink with sympathy for a boy I barely knew.

  “Serves him right,” Amanda said.

  “Maybe he’ll transfer,” Tyler added. “So, I couldn’t make the meet but I heard you ladies stunk up the pool today. Balls Balls Balls getting you down?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes and turned away to chat with her teammate. Tyler looked disappointed by her brush-off.

  Seeing my questioning look, Amanda said, “Suzie’s got us doing this tough circuit on Thursdays using exercise balls. The guys’ team thinks it’s funny.”

  “All that ball-work can be tiring for you ladies,” Tyler said, eyes wide.

  “You’re just lucky Illinois doesn’t have a men’s team,” Amanda said. “I’ve got two tests next week and could’ve used a weekend off.”

  “You work too hard.” Tyler frowned, glancing at his watch. “Anyway, gotta run. See you guys tonight at the house?”

  “We’re not supposed to drink this late in the season,” Amanda said.

  “Or take a recruit to parties,” Sarah added, rejoining the conversation.

  My face got hot when all eyes turned to me.

  “Your sister was a partier,” Tyler recalled. “You are too, right?”

  “Sure,” I lied, shrugging.

  “Don’t worry,” Tyler said. “We’ll go easy on you tonight. I don’t want to face the wrath of Dr. Donahue.” His exaggerated shudder made Amanda giggle.

  I carried my tray to the conveyer belt and bundled up for the walk to Amanda’s dorm room, but my mind was busy remembering how Dad had busted Taylor for driving home drunk when she was seventeen. The entire team had found out about it. She’d been grounded forever and had taken out her pent-up frustration on me, teasing me mercilessly about my glasses and braces — as if I didn’t hate them enough without her pointing out how ugly I was.

  Dad had sensed what was going on, and he’d come to tuck me in one night, even though I was thirteen. He sat on my bed, and I pretended noth­ing was wrong, but he knew me well enough not to buy my act. “Taylor’s going through a rough time, Abs. This has nothing to do with you. You’re a beautiful girl. Don’t listen to her.”

  “But she’s right. My braces are hideous. And I hate my glasses.”

  “Those braces are coming off in a couple of months.” He tapped his long fingers against my bedspread. “Okay. Your mother and I talked, and we agreed you can get contacts.”

  “Really?” I bolted upright in bed.

  “You’ll have to be responsible with them, though.”

  “I will, Dad. I will.”

  “I know.” He gave me a wistful smile. “You’re always responsible. Sometimes too much so.” He looked down at his hands. “What Taylor did…it really scared me, Abs. I love yo
u both so much. Promise me you won’t drink until you’re old enough to handle it.”

  I made a face, collapsing back onto my pillow. “Alcohol’s gross.”

  It seemed like he was suppressing a grin. “Not as gross as Taylor’s attitude.”

  “Yeah.” I cracked a smile. “She’s repugnant.”

  “Uncivilized and uncouth,” he agreed.

  “Vile and loathsome,” I added. “And repellent.”

  “Nice one.” He beamed. “You’ll ace the SAT verbal section, honey.” He planted a kiss on my forehead before tugging the covers up to my shoulders. Eyes heavy, I watched him walk out of my room.

  “Here we are,” Amanda said, unlocking her dorm room, and I realized I must’ve zoned out for the entire walk from the dining hall. “It’s small, but cozy. Kristen’s staying at Sarah’s house tonight, so you’ll have a place to sleep.” She pointed to the messy side of the room, and I rolled my bag over to the bed. “Kristen’s a total slob — sorry. Do you need to use the bathroom?”

  I shook my head and sat on the twin bed.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  When she left, I again pictured my dad walking out of my room that night. Since then he’d walked all the way out of my life.