by Ali Dean
Of course, when I push off and start swimming behind her, she randomly decides to switch to breaststroke in the middle of the lane and kicks me in the forehead.
My head whips up and she stops and looks at me. “Kick,” I growl.
The normalcy of the situation breaks the darkness for a second at least, and she grins. “Whoops. You should know better. Give me some space.”
She ducks back under, going right back to her breaststroke, not caring that her long legs will probably whack someone’s rib swimming in the neighboring lane. Her grin though, it looked almost normal. Not forced, and not like the demons have their clutches in her. Maybe she’s not so bad. Maybe the night just got out of hand and she made a mistake. If only it was that simple. But I know better.
The first event is the 400-yard medley relay, usually one of my favorite events. It’s a fast pace race and I love it as each person swims a different stroke and we get to capitalize on our individual strengths. Our team has three relays in total, named A, B, and C for easy recognition. We move around between those three depending on the meet. It all depends on who’s swimming what, and what strategy we want to put in place for a particular meet as relays accrue a lot more points for the team than individual races. Since today’s meet doesn’t really count for much, it’s more about swimming and less about strategy.
The A medley relay today is the group I would have predicted – Tori on backstroke, Kick on breaststroke, me on butterfly, and Ashley swimming free. We are each the fastest in those individual strokes, which means in theory this combination/mix should be the fastest medley relay for the team. Not only that, this should be the relay combination we use later in the season when our times and placing actually count.
I don’t remember if Nevada has a decent medley relay, but I’m guessing our biggest competition will be the B relay on our team. Tori jumps in the water with the other backstrokers. They hold the bar underneath the starting block, and when the beep goes, they burst backward in an upside-down dive. Tori is one of the fastest backstrokers in the nation. Still, the freshman backstroker on the B relay, Molly, throws it down, while Nevada’s backstroker isn’t far behind.
Kick’s start is sluggish, and by the time she comes out of the water, she’s already behind the B relay and Nevada’s breaststroker is right beside her. Kick doesn’t have the usual pep to her stroke, and it’s painful to watch. At least for me. I’m tempted to swing my gaze around to the coaches and the rest of the team to see if they notice, but I’ve got to stay focused. If I can make up what she’s losing, maybe it won’t be so obvious.
When she comes up from her underwater pullout on the last lap, there’s no way I can undo the damage whether or not I manage to catch up. She’s well behind the other team now, and threatening to drop into fourth or fifth place with our C relay team and Nevada’s B relay team gaining quickly. Even if this race isn’t all that important, swimming that poorly is not going to go unnoticed.
As I step up onto the block, I can tell she’s not even racing, just going through the motions. I try to shake it off, roll back my shoulders, and focus on my own race. Adrenaline courses through me, and it’s not all the good, normal, racing kind. There’s fear and worry for Kick mixed in there too.
When she pulls in for her last stroke, I swing my arms back and shoot off the blocks. A quick start on a relay means that you won’t actually see the previous swimmer’s fingers touch the wall. You’ve already got to be in motion on the dive, and dozens of practice sessions mean I’ve got it timed so that my feet leave the blocks right as Kick’s hands touch the wall. She’s moving so slowly today, I hope I’m still timing it right as I burst forward. If not, my toes might leave the block before her fingers touch the wall, and we’ll be disqualified, or DQ’d, for a false start.
A flurry of emotions propels me as I try to center my thoughts on catching the swimmers in front of me. It’s not hard. I’m faster than every other butterflier and I’m fueled by the intensity of my first race since the trials, plus my concern for and anger with my twin sister.
I fly through four twenty-five-yard laps, pulling us back into a solid lead for Ashley to finish it off with the final freestyle leg.
Her strong and measured strokes pull us farther ahead from the other relays, leaving us with a healthy win.
Then I see the official clad in white speaking with our assistant coach and I know. We’re going to be DQ’d. I must have left the block before Kick finished. False starts are the most common reason for a DQ, and I know my start was too aggressive. The momentary high from catching up and taking the lead vanishes, leaving frustration in its wake. Sure, it might not ultimately matter to the score that we got disqualified, but I hate screwing up, especially when Kick and I usually orchestrate our relay starts seamlessly.
It’s not a big deal. This isn’t an important meet. But it will serve to draw attention to Kick’s swimming, and that’s not good.
I’m not wrong. Coach Mandy pulls Kick and me aside before we make it to the cool-down pool.
“False start, Shay. Kick, what happened out there? Everything okay?”
Kick’s entire body tenses beside me. “Why are you asking me? Shay’s the one who false started, not me.”
Dread fills me. Kick’s never blamed me when she’s screwed up before. And we all know her slow finish is the real reason for my feet leaving the blocks before her hands touched the wall.
“You seemed off out there today.” Coach Mandy levels her with a stare. The silence that follows is excruciating. I want to defend her. I want to call her out. I want to hug her and smack her all at once.
Kick mumbles something that sounds like “I’m fine,” and walks away, jumping in the cool-down pool before we can respond.
Coach Mandy turns to me, looking for ideas, but I’m at a loss. I shake my head. “Sorry. I didn’t time it right on the blocks out there. And yeah, she wasn’t swimming like herself, so that was part of the reason. But I’m not sure if she’s not feeling well, or what is going on.”
Coach Mandy runs a hand over her face. She looks as frustrated with it as I am. “Go cool down.”
Her gruffness doesn’t surprise me. Swimmers have bad races all the time. No need to over-analyze or have a heart-to-heart every time it happens. This is different though. That wasn’t just a bad race. That wasn’t even racing at all.
“Shay.” My mother’s stern voice reverberates in the open hallway outside the natatorium.
“Mom, hi. I didn’t know you’d be here.” I’d spotted her with Dad in the stands after the medley relay and we exchanged waves. We’re supposed to stay on deck during the meet and not drift up to the stands to mingle with friends or family until it’s over, even between events.
I wasn’t expecting them to show up today. They usually tell me if they’re coming beforehand. I’d rushed to shower and change as soon as I’d cooled down, wanting to have a chance to talk with them before they pounced on Kick. Her performance didn’t get any worse, thankfully, but didn’t get much better either.
“We’re always at your first home meet. I assumed you knew we’d be here.” She looks at me, and her expression says, And I’ve been trying to call you.
“Where’s Dad?” I look around the large space, but there’s no one in sight.
“He’s speaking with Julian Reed’s parents. Still in the stands. I don’t know how he can handle that heat.” My parents know most of the other parents of the top swimmers from California, at least the ones who grew up swimming in the same meets as me and Kick. All that time in the stands, it’s just the way it goes. Mom can’t sit still for long no matter where she is, but she uses the heat of the pool area as an excuse to take walks outside between her daughters’ events.
“What’s going on with your sister?” My mother gets right to it.
I shrug like it’s no big deal. “She wasn’t feeling great. Probably shouldn’t have even raced today.”
My mother doesn’t say anything in response, just raises her eyeb
rows slightly, her disapproval radiating off her in waves.
Grasping for a change of subject, I dive into an analysis of my own performance, how I’m tired from training but feeling good racing, that I’m right where I expect to be this early in the season. And then I prompt a discussion of my classes, even allowing her to lecture me about applying for summer internships, the importance of securing a spot at one of the most competitive firms in order to ensure my future success.
Finally, Dad wanders out, unfortunately with Daphne and Phil Reed alongside him. Julian’s parents are okay I guess, but being around them is always awkward. Well, it used to be. Maybe it won’t be anymore.
Interacting with the parents of the guy you crushed on for years and then casually slept with, that’s highly uncomfortable stuff, particularly since they’re kind of pals with my parents. Now that’s history, or at least, it should be.
“Hi sweetie,” Dad says as he approaches, enveloping me in a hug. “You did great today. I’m so proud of you.”
Warmth spreads through me and I smile. “Thanks, Dad. Kick wasn’t feeling great today. She has a bug.” I offer the explanation off the bat in hopes of thwarting a discussion of the issue.
“Yeah, I could see that. We were hoping to take you guys out for a late lunch, with Julian and some of your other teammates, but maybe Kick isn’t up for it?”
“She probably needs to go home and take a nap.” Dad looks disappointed, so I add, “I’ll go with you though, and I bet Beatrice will want to come too.” Eating with Julian and his parents, whether or not it turns into a big crowd, sounds pretty miserable, but my parents came all the way to the meet, I should spend some time with them. It’s not like I can mention that I’d rather go without the Reeds while they’re standing there.
We’re talking swimming, the meet, the team, when more swimmers trickle out of the locker room, and the group grows. Kick’s able to avoid getting hounded by our mom in the midst of all the others talking around us, and she shoots me a grateful look.
Familiar strong arms wrap around my waist, and while the feel of Jett behind me is intoxicating, I can’t say it’s welcome in this moment.
“Just got out of practice,” he breathes in my ear, hot breath sending goosebumps along my skin. “I saw your first event though. The relay.” He doesn’t add anything. He doesn’t have to. The awe in his voice is tangible, and the stiffness in my spine melts. There’s nothing quite like impressing an Olympic athlete with your own athletic performance.
“Are you going to introduce me?” Dad teases and puts a hand out to Jett. “Brian Spark.”
“Jett Decker.” His voice is strong and confident, not wavering one bit.
“Dad, Jett’s my boyfriend.” In the midst of everything, I hadn’t yet told my parents about him. I’d meant to, but I guess wanted to give it a little more time.
“Boyfriend? You should join us for lunch.” Dad’s already invited every swimmer on the team, so it comes as no surprise. I don’t know how Dad expects this to work, with the number of people growing to the capacity at most restaurants, and likely no reservation. Thankfully, there’s enough of a crowd that I hope to be able to sit far away from the Reeds.
As Jett agrees to the invite, Mom inserts herself. “Did you say Jett Decker? Honey, why didn’t you tell me you were dating an Olympian?” Mom’s gushing voice is out now, and I try not to cringe with embarrassment.
Dad’s eyes light with recognition now. “Oh! And not just an Olympian. You got silver in the 100 meters, didn’t you? Well” —my dad breathes out in amazement— “that’s really something.”
The firing of questions begins then, and my mom crowds his space, wanting to know every detail of his life and his feelings about it. I remove myself from his arms and seek refuge next to Kick. “You doing okay?” I ask softly. My anger has faded. Or maybe it’s just swept away for now, replaced only with concern.
“I wish I could get out of this lunch thing.” She sounds dejected.
“I already told them you were sick and would probably need to take a nap.”
She side-eyes me. “Yeah, like that would go over well. I’m better off just going or else Mom will stick around to check on me or something.”
She’s not wrong.
“Probably,” I agree.
“Looks like they love Jett already.” I detect bitterness, not really Kick’s style, and chalk it up to her hangover and guilt for sucking in the pool today.
Sighing, I can’t deny I’m happy with my parents’ reaction to him. Sure, he’s an Olympic athlete, but he doesn’t match Mom’s typical criteria for success. She prefers structured and reliable paths to achievement, and sports involve too much luck, talent, and factors outside one’s control, in her opinion, at least. Maybe she’ll disapprove once she gets to know him better.
Jett frees himself from my parents a moment later. “I’m going to jump into a quick shower but will meet you guys at lunch.”
“Do you know where we’re going?”
“Nazarro’s. I guess Mr. Reed is friends with the owner, and since it’s past the lunch rush, they’re letting the swim team have an impromptu private party.” He’s careful to keep his voice level, but I hear the annoyance.
“So, I guess you met Julian’s parents.”
He nods and kisses me on the cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”
Jett jogs off toward the showers, and I let myself admire his athleticism for a beat before turning to my sister. She’s not looking at me and I follow her gaze. Julian is watching me. The darkness in his stern expression is unnerving. Julian usually emanates this cockiness wrapped in the attitude that he’s untouchable – a formula that gives a light and maybe even a shallow personality. Maybe I’ve been wrong in my assessment of him. Maybe he’s more complex. Maybe he felt something for me all along, and seeing me with Jett sucks for him. When he continues to stare at me, unblinking, I resist the urge to shudder. What is his deal?
Kick echoes my thoughts. “What is his deal?”
I turn to her. “Julian’s? Not sure. You think he actually wanted to be serious with me or he’s just being all weird because someone else took his toy?”
“Dunno. It’s probably a guy thing. Maybe if we had a brother we’d understand guys better.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I do manage to get us a table away from the Reeds at Nazarro’s.
I’ve got Kick to my left and the spot to my right is saved for Jett. Unfortunately, Mom is on the other side of it, so he’ll probably get subjected to another inquisition. At least he’s not next to Daphne or Phil Reed.
Beatrice, Fran, Ashley, and Tori are at our table, as well as Ashley’s and Tori’s parents, who live in the area. The chattering around the table is soothing, but I can’t help feeling Julian’s gaze. I don’t look to confirm it but the sensation is there, even through the heavy smell of garlic and the steady buzz of excited and tired swimmers. What’s the deal with the sixth sense? It’s got to be a real thing. Like, even with earplugs in and a sleeping mask over my eyes, I would probably wake up from a dead sleep if someone came in my bedroom in the middle of the night. But probably only if it was someone dangerous. Or maybe if Kick was stealing my favorite strapless bra like she does. I’m wondering about this sixth sense, and if it’s like a protection thing, when Jett slides into the seat next to me, knowing it’s for him without asking. His knee bumps mine in greeting.
When my face lights up, I notice my mom’s watchful eyes taking in my grin. Studying every movement. It makes my stomach roll, a reaction not even elicited by the weight of Julian’s stare. Nope, Mom’s the only one who can get to me like that. Or maybe it’s just hunger. A basket of garlic bread plops in front of me and I don’t hesitate to grab a piece. We all do. Swimmers aren’t shy when it comes to appetites. Nah. We’re proud of it, referring to ourselves as the Varsity Eating team.
“So, Jett, you decided to finish up college instead of going professional. Was that a difficult decision?” Mom’s question
sounds friendly enough, but I know better.
“Not really. The contracts will still be there when I graduate. And if they aren’t, at least I’ll have a degree.”
I like his answer. It says everything without saying much at all.
Mom doesn’t give much away, following up with questions about what he’s studying, where he’s planning to train after college, if he has a coach or team in mind, if he’ll be traveling a lot to compete. If Jett wasn’t already clued in, he quickly realizes it’s more than simple interest in the daughter’s new boyfriend who happens to be an Olympian. She’s starting to pry about sponsorship deals, close to outright asking him what he’s going to make when the waitress interrupts to get our lunch order. I could hug her. The waitress, that is.
“Yo, Shay,” Beatrice calls from across the table a minute later.
“Yo, Bea,” I mimic.
“Did you know your fly time in the medley today would’ve broken your own school record if it wasn’t a relay start?”
I did know it. Coach Mandy told me.
“It was a false start,” I remind her, not needing to point out that relay starts give you a few tenths of a second off a normal start, so the splits don’t count for real times. It’s called a “flying start” since you get to use momentum rather than start from a standstill.
“Whatever,” Ashley says. “It’s still crazy for the first meet of the season.”
“It’s probably Jett’s speed rubbing off on her,” Kick teases, knowing it will make me squirm with the implications in front of my parents. I do squirm a little, but I smile too because Kick’s coming back around.
Jett laughs next to me. “You want to see me swim butterfly? I go backward.”
The image has me laughing too. He might not be exaggerating either. A lot of people don’t get the butterfly thing, especially strong dudes who try to muscle their way into it. “It’s all about the rhythm, baby,” I tell him. “I know you know how to dance, so I’m sure you’re teachable. I’ll give you a lesson some time.”
“Hmmm,” he agrees, smirking knowingly at me.
