Head Above Water

9. Gossip Girl

When we arrived at the swim meet on Thursday I breathed in the chlorinated scent, feeling like I was home. I smiled faintly, reassured by the familiar sight before me; a crystalline turquoise pool, it’s surface smooth as glass, swimmers skipping to and fro, all moving with a purpose, their game faces on. It was good to be back.

The past couple days at school had been long and difficult. I was quickly learning to distract my mind from traitorous thoughts by throwing myself into school and swimming. On the plus side I was sure my grades would be all the better for it. On the negative side, it was exhausting trying to keep one’s mind occupied at all times.

A deep, repetitive thumping sound, similar to the blades of a helicopter caught my attention and I turned my focus to the pool, where one of the men’s backstroke heats was taking place. I identified the source of the powerful sounds as one of the swimmers, whose long, strong arms were pounding through the water with deep, forceful movements. I couldn’t help but admire his flawless form in both technique and body. His technique was perfect and graceful as his arms circled steadily as if to a metronome. The water was cascading over the dark chocolate skin of his sculpted shoulders and chest as he rolled his body left and right with each stroke of his arms. He was like a swimming God, built to part the waters with absolute ease.

“I think you should introduce yourself to that little hottie after your race, Gemma,” my mom whispered, her body leaning toward me, but her eyes glued to the Swim God.

“Nothing about that boy is little,” Jillian mumbled, her eyes also riveted on him.

I giggled and waved them off. He was certainly eye-catching, but not my type. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

They wished me luck before splitting off to find seats in the bleachers. I signed in with the officials and checked the heat sheet to make sure I was signed up for the correct event. I was only swimming one since I was doing the longest race and was more of an endurance swimmer than a sprinter.

Everything looked good. I’d be swimming the 500 Free about three quarters of the way through the meet. I headed to the gym and changed into my racer, threw on a warm-up suit and wound my hair expertly under a swim cap.

After stowing my bags, I pulled my goggles on to rest on my forehead and headed out to meet up with my coach. He gave us all the pep talk and threw out a few personal reminders for certain people. Thankfully I wasn’t one of them. I hoped that was a good sign that I was more than ready for this. I’d been to tons of swim meets by now, but I still doubted myself at each one until my feet left the block. We did the team huddle then I went to find the shallow pool to warm up.

On the way there I spotted a couple familiar faces—Connor, Lucia, Vic and Jeremy stood on deck looking around, I assumed, for me, so I drew their attention. “Hey guys! Thanks for coming!”

“I just came to check out the girls in their swimsuits,” Vic said loudly as he shot Lucia a grin. She elbowed him in the side playfully, but I could tell she put a decent amount of force into it as a warning.

“Hey! Look at you all suited up,” Connor said suggestively and I graced him with a roll of my eyes.

“You look ready for the Olympics,” Lucia said with a smile.

“Thanks. I hope so. One race at a time though.”

“You’ll do it,’ Jeremy said firmly, as If there was no other possibility than my success.

I smiled gratefully at him. “I’ve gotta start warming up, but you guys can take a seat in the bleachers. It’ll still be a while before my race comes up.”

“Sounds good. We’ll catch you after.” Connor threw me a casual wave and they walked off.

I slipped into the shallow pool and began my warm-up, paddling slowly through the water. It was too warm for my liking—it felt kind of like swimming through jello—but at least there was a warm-up pool. Some schools didn’t have one and I, personally, really preferred to stretch my muscles first, so I was glad for its presence.