Keeping Real - Ashton Irwin

Chapter 17

Tuesday afternoon had rolled around and I was more nervous than I had ever been before. The kind of nervous that you feel in your toes, the kind that makes you want to curl up in a ball and never get up, the kind that makes you wish you could reel back time itself.

I was feeling all of it when I got to swim practice Tuesday to confront Mr. Kae. Calum had generously given me his private time so that I could talk to him. It was unlikely that he was going to my practices anymore. I had missed a full week of private lessons with him and he didn't take lightly to his pupils coming late, so I had no idea how he would react to me missing practice for a whole week.

My rubber flip flops squeaked across the pool tile as I sat my bag down on the metal bleachers beside the pool. Mr. Kae hadn't yet arrived, and I was trying to prepare my apology speech when I heard the sound of his sharp step across the tile.

Mr. Kae was in his late fiftiess, a fit man who had been an Olympic coach for twenty years. He always wore a sharp collared shirt and black suit pants. His balding head held a world of knowledge about swimming. He coached Olympic prospects and Calum and I were lucky to have him as our teacher.

He ignored me as he sat down in his usual spot on the side of the pool, right at the fifteen foot marker. "Where's Calum?" He asked, not looking at me. I stood up and made my way next to his chair.

"He's not coming," I told him. He looked up at me sharply, obviously upset. I began my speech quickly so he wouldn't have time to interject.

"I'm sorry. I should not have missed so many practices. I came here to see if I could beg my way back into your good graces. You have been my coach for three years and you did not deserve to be ignored. I gave up training at a really crucial time and I apologize. Is there any way that I could swim with you again?" I asked, my voice imploring.

He looked up at me, clearly frustrated. He stood up and crossed his arms. He was a foot taller than my 5'6 and he was seriously intimidating. I looked down and scuffed my foot against the grimy tile of the floor, too ashamed to look Mr. Kae in the eye.

"I have worked with you for three years, Paige. I thought that you respected yourself more than this-throwing away everything that you've worked for because of an emotional setback." He shook his head. "You dealt with your father's death better than this, Paige," he said quietly.

Mr. Kae had been my coach through my father. Through everything. I couldn't let all of our hard work come to an end without a reward.

"Mr. Kae," I said. "I messed up. I am done letting my life get in the way of my success. Please. Please let me show you that," I begged him. He pursed his lips.

"Look. I don't want to blow your future either. But I have to know whether you're serious about this or not. How about this Hemmings, I'll cut you a deal. If by tomorrow, you show me that you mastered the butterfly stroke-that means reaching your goal time, then I'll let you continue training with me. If not, well then, I guess you're not cut out for this." I nodded solemnly. "It's a harsh ultimatum," he told me, "but I need to see if you can do this."

"I'll give you tonight to master it and we'll see if you got it down first thing tomorrow during practice," he said. Again I nodded. It would be a tough night, but I was willing to do it if it meant a chance at my dreams.

Mr. Kae spent the next five minutes briefing me on the time that he wanted me at. By the end of the night I had to have my two hundred meter butterfly stroke under three minutes. My current time was three minutes and thirty seconds. It was an impossible task.

But I was going to try anyway. Mr. Kae left, wishing me good luck briefly and walking out the door.

I took a deep breath and attempted to center myself. I stepped out of my sweats and rearranged the straps of my bathing suit, then sat down on the slippery floor to stretch.