Swim the Fly (31 page)

“It’s true,” Tianna adds. “Sean was resistant at first, but now that’s all he wants to do. Well, that and make out.”

“You have to do
something
while you wait for the DVD to cue up,” Sean laughs.

“I’ve tried watching,” I say, studying the chessboard. “I just can’t get into it.” I move my castle three spaces forward.

Valerie clears her throat and shakes her head.

“What?” I say.

She widens her eyes like she’s trying to send me the answer telepathically.

“Damn.” I finally see that my queen is vulnerable, and Valerie lets me move my castle back, even though you’re not really allowed to do that once you let go of your piece.

I’m examining the board for another move when I get a sudden jolt of panic.

“Oh, my God, what time is it?” I ask, grabbing my cell phone from my pocket and looking at the time. Crap. It’s almost five. I’m going to be late for Ulf again. That’s three times this week. Not to mention the day I skipped altogether. “I have to go.”

I give Valerie a kiss, say,
“Au revoir,”
and bolt from her house.

Things always seem to conspire against you when you’re late. And today is no different. Cars pull out of driveways right in front of me, lights turn red just as I
approach them, and every person over eighty in Lower Rockville must be out for a walk this evening.

I pedal my bike like mad, dodging obstacles left, center, and right, because Ulf has already given me several warnings this week.

It’s five twenty-three when I finally make it to the Elk Hills Country Club. I lock up my bike and tear through the front door. The lobby is choked with a throng of men in suits and women in gowns — another wedding, or retirement party, or cotillion. The club is always hosting some kind of reception.

Normally, I’m happy for the place to be busy, because it means nobody’s looking at me, but today it’s just another pain in the ass I have to navigate.

When I finally make it to the pool, I see Ulf sitting on the ledge with a pile of wet change beside him.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I say, scurrying over. “I lost track of time.”

Ulf just sits there, staring into the water.

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

Ulf sighs. “Yes. This is what you said last time. I am thinking that maybe you have bitten off more bullets than you can chew.”

“I’ve just been busy lately.”

Ulf stands and looks at me. “I would have more respect for you if you just quit rather than make me tell you that you are no longer welcome.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ulf glares at me. “I am talking about that you do not want to be able to swim the one-hundred-yards butterfly!”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why? To impress a girl? That is a very stupid reason.”

“No. It’s not that. Not anymore.”

“Then why not quit? It is the easier way.”

“Maybe I don’t want the easier way.”

Ulf frowns. “Most people want an easier way. You are not alone. Most people do not want to hang on when they can no longer hang on. That is why they come close and receive no cigar.”

I shake my head and stare at the ground. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I told you. I just lost track of time. That’s all.”

“This is fine. You can continue to pretend that you have not given up. I am no longer going to live in the make-believe.”

With that, Ulf turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, wondering what the hell just happened.

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS UNTIL CHAMPIONSHIPS.
Twenty-four hours until I become the laughingstock of the Rockville Swimming Association.

I’m finishing up my fourth semi-continuous lap of clumsy butterfly, and I’m sucking air. Kelly’s swimming in the lane right next to me, but I don’t care what she thinks anymore.

It’s the first time I’ve attempted the stroke at practice. I only had to stop and tread water twice, which for me is a huge accomplishment. Still, I’m pretty sure my form is so bad that even if I manage to complete all four laps in the actual race, I’ll probably be disqualified.

Coop’s hanging on the pool ledge when I arrive.

“Hey,” I say, trying to find my breath.

He smirks at me. “I don’t see why you’re still killing yourself over this. I mean, Kelly’s out of the picture now, and I’m sure Valerie doesn’t give a crap one way or the other. Why don’t you just drop out?”

“I don’t know,” I say, sliding my goggles up onto my forehead. “I guess I don’t want to let the team down again.”

“Oh.” Coop nods. “I didn’t realize you had such a sense of loyalty.” Coop’s been saying things like this all week at swim practice. It’s like he’s always in a bad mood.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Coop spits into his goggle lenses, trying to defog them. “Unless you think it means something.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hey, look, I get it, okay? Whole nations have gone to war over the Wookiee’s smile.” Coop rinses his goggles out. “I’m not surprised you and Sean are bailing on me for it. I mean, I wouldn’t do it, personally. But I can see how you guys would.”

“We haven’t bailed on you.”

“Oh no? How many times have we hung out this week?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been counting.”

“Because there’s nothing to
count.
We haven’t hung out
once
this entire week.”

I’m trying to remember, but everything’s been such a whirlwind. “I guess . . . I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” Coop says. “Busy with Valerie’s mouse house. I know.”

“Hey. Don’t talk about her like that.”

Coop snorts. “Whatever, dude.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t hurt my
feelings,
butt plug. Please. No. I’m just learning your true colors. That’s all.”

“Okaaay,” I say. “Look, why don’t we see if Sean wants to go check out a movie this afternoon?”

“You know what? I can’t. I’ve got this funeral to go to. I’m mourning the death of our friendship.”

Coop pulls his goggles on, pushes off the wall, and swims away.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. This really sucks.

I’m about to slide my goggles down and get back to my fly when I see Sean running over to a bench and grabbing his sister’s light-blue towel. He flings it over his shoulder and carries it to Cathy, who’s sitting beside the pool.

“Next time I want it quicker, Grunt,” Cathy says, yanking the towel from Sean. All the girls nearby laugh.

The poor guy. Sean’s really taking one for the team. So why can’t Coop see
that
?

Sean scurries over to my lane and slips into the water next to me. “This has been the longest two weeks of my life. Thank God there’s only one more week left.”

“Sorry, dude.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll get by. It’s not the first time I’ve had to be her slave. Besides, it’s totally worth it.”

Someone clears their throat loud and long. “Are we having a nice, relaxing morning, ladies?”

I glance up to see Ms. Luntz towering over us, her hands on her wide hips, her flip-flop-clad dumpling feet right on the edge of the pool. It’s very difficult to look at her. It’s like she’s walking around naked all the time now. On the bright side, I just can’t take her that seriously anymore.

“Maybe if you actually
tried
a little, Gratton,” Ms. Luntz jeers. “Maybe then you wouldn’t be a complete embarrassment to the team. This is the first time I’ve even seen you swim butterfly at practice. A day before championships. Did you think all you had to do was just come in your Speedo and you’d magically be good at it?”

I feel Sean kick me under the water. I can see out of the corner of my eye that he’s ready to crack up. I try to ignore him.

“I’ve been practicing, Ms. Luntz. It’s just —”

“Excuses are like male nipples, Gratton.” Ms. Luntz runs her tongue over her teeth. “They’re completely useless.”

Ms. Luntz suddenly looks up, a German shepherd catching a scent. “Hey! Wendy Stevenson! That’s your fourth bathroom visit this morning!” She points toward the girls’ restroom, where Wendy stands frozen, caught in Ms. Luntz’s laser vision. “Did we drink a gallon of juice at breakfast this morning?”

Ms. Luntz marches off to deal with the serial-bathroom-goer.

Sean inspects his nipples curiously. “I guess they are kind of useless.”

“Let’s go,” I say. “We better start swimming.”

Sean suppresses a laugh. “Okay, but don’t think you can just come in your Speedo and magically be good.”

I smack the water, splashing Sean, who paddles away, chuckling.

I kick off the wall and start back in with the fly. It feels pretty good that I can start off so strong now. If only I could keep this pace up over four laps, I might actually finish the race without being completely humiliated.

I guess there’s always a chance for a miracle.

Like if my appendix actually
did
burst.

“IF YOU WANT TO BAIL,
Gratton, it won’t matter now.” Ms. Luntz sighs as she raps her clipboard with her pen. “We can’t win the meet unless you take first. You might as well save yourself the embarrassment.”

I’m standing at the fence, my fingers strangling the chain links, watching the second-to-last race of the Rockville Swimming Association’s Thirty-Fourth Annual Championships. Where the best of Rockville meets the other best of Rockville. It’s a carnival atmosphere, like always. Everyone’s here. Valerie. Mom. Peter and Melissa. Grandpa Arlo and Mrs. Hoogenboom. Even Sean’s girlfriend, Tianna. There are strings of used-car-lot flags strung from the diving boards. There are kids running around with balloons and sticky hands. The air is a swirl of chlorine laced with Doritos and Fun Dip.

Once this race ends, our team, the Razorbacks, will be tied with Tony Grillo’s Dolphins. Which means that
when Tony the Gorilla takes first place in the butterfly, his team will win.

So Ms. Luntz is right. It doesn’t matter if I swim or not. At least not as far as the team is concerned. It’s a perfect out.

But I’ve been thinking. About this summer. About how I got myself into this whole mess in the first place. And about what Ulf said about hanging on.

“I’m going to swim,” I say to Ms. Luntz.

“Fine.” Another long sigh from her. Like I’d just blown her chance to go home early. “Suit yourself.” She scratches a long diagonal line across her tally sheet with her ballpoint pen, then turns and walks away.

I stand there, staring through the fence, imagining what would happen if I actually
did
win. Our team would beat the Dowling Dolphins for the first time. Ever. In thirty-four years.

If this were a movie, like
Rocky III,
Tony and I would stare each other down, right until the starter’s gun went off. We’d be in a neck-and-neck battle through all four laps. Him ahead, me ahead, him ahead again. Back and forth, back and forth. Until, at the very end, my two hands would smack the pool ledge a fraction of a second before Tony’s and I would be lifted out of the water and hoisted onto the shoulders of my teammates.

I see Tony Grillo walking up to the pool gate, stretching out his Popeye arms, over his head. I look down at my own spaghetti noodles and the reality of things slams home.

Kelly skips over to Tony and snuggles up next to him. She’s sucking on a Tootsie Pop, hugging his forged-from-steel body. They turn toward each other and they kiss. Obviously they’ve made up. I can’t believe I was so crazed over her.

I turn and look up in the bleachers. Valerie’s there, sitting with my family. She smiles and blows me a kiss. I wave back. She got dressed up for the occasion. A little white skirt. A purple blouse. She did her hair and put on makeup. I tried to tell her that she should skip this particular swim meet unless she wanted to witness a drowning.

But she was having none of it.

“You might need medical assistance after the race,” she said to me, laughing. “And I give better mouth-to-mouth than Tony.”

“Next up,” the announcer calls over the PA. “Our final race of the day. The boys’ fifteen-and-over one-hundred-yard butterfly. All swimmers up to the blocks.”