SWIMMING IN CHAOS~THOMAS CECCON

16

"Bianca"

Chiara, Martina, Isabella, and I were in the women's locker room, getting ready for the big moment.

The athletes from the French team were next to us, already prepared for the first event, the relay.

I had full confidence in my teammates. Both the men's and women's teams from the Italian federation had been preparing for this event for months.

It was the one we had dedicated the most time to, at the coach's request, who argued it was the most difficult event since we all depended on each other. We were a team, and we had to understand one another.

There were only about fifteen minutes left before the start when I overheard the French players gossiping. Unbelievable as it seemed, my French classes had paid off.

"They don't stand a chance against us, just look at them, they're pathetic," I heard one of them say, which made my blood boil since they weren't showing any sportsmanship.

"Isabella, the boyfriend-stealing bitch, and Bianca, the crybaby, on the same team—nothing good can come from that," that comment was the last straw, and I decided to step in.

"Why don't you say it in a language we can all understand? Or are you afraid of making more of a fool of yourselves than you already are?" I said, drawing confused looks from my teammates.

"What are you talking about, Bianca?" I hear Chiara's voice, full of curiosity and confusion.

"Our French friends here are saying everything but calling us pretty, right?" My voice dripped with irony, matching their stupidity.

"So what? Are you going to go crying to your boyfriend to come defend you like you always do?" one of them chimed in.

"You should keep your mouth shut and focus on your own affairs. We'll see who's crying in the pool," to my surprise, I heard Isabella's voice, not hesitating to defend me. I turned to her and flashed a grateful smile.

"I can't believe it! Isabella Altieri giving lessons. You have no right to act like a good person after what you did to Bianca," said what seemed to be the leader of the group of lapdogs that followed her every word.

"Hey! Watch what you're saying," I said, fed up. "You're certainly not the right person to be giving lessons yourself."

"Are you seriously going to defend her after everything? You're pathetic," she continued stirring the pot.

"Unlike you, I'm a professional, and I leave my problems at home. I'm here to compete, and I won't allow anyone to talk down to or make someone on my team feel bad. Honestly, the way you talk about other women is really sad. You should be ashamed," I let everything I had bottled up out, causing the French girls to leave the locker room at that moment.

I turned to my teammates, and they all looked at me with proud smiles. My eyes landed on Isabella, who walked over to hug me.

"Thank you so much for defending me after everything I've done to you. I'm really sorry, I hope you can forgive me someday," she said in a confident tone.

"Don't worry, you're forgiven, I'm not one to hold a grudge. Now let's go out there and give it our all," I said before leaving the locker room and entering the Olympic pool after being introduced.

Our event was before the men's, so they hadn't come out yet, and for some reason, I longed to see Thomas before starting, as I did in every competition.

We took our positions. I was competing in the butterfly, Chiara in freestyle, Isabella in breaststroke, and Martina in backstroke.

The race started. We moved like fish in water. Our movements were precise, and our technique was flawless.