Sidelining

Chap. 4: What?!?

Song is "Perfect" by P!nk and pretty much describes Eva's life (and mine too).
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Eva's POV
On Monday after school, I slowly trudged towards the pool. Although swim season was in the spring and it was only September, I needed to stay in shape. Yes, I was running cross country, but my butterfly needed work.  Will was going to pick me up after football practice, so I had a solid 90 minutes to work. I had formed a workout for today last night, so I knew exactly what I was doing.
My workout:
Warm up: 100 IM x 2
Main set: 100 fly on the 1:45 x 10
Kick: 250 fly kick w/ kick board
Pull: 100 fly pull (w/ buoy) on the 2:00 x 8
Cool down: 100 free easy
It was pretty simple, and butterfly based, but that way it would be time efficient and I could focus on my technique. I changed quickly in the locker rooms and jumped into the pool, knowing from experience that entering a pool slowly was painful, as it is cooler than what your body is accustomed to. Why not swim in a warmer pool, then? you might ask. Well, you sweat when you swim, believe it or not, and a warm pool is actually worse. I swam and swam, realizing how much I had missed the feeling of the cool water flowing around me as I cut through it. Pure bliss. I finished, and as I climbed out of the pool, I heard talking from the bleachers. There sat my idiot brother and Jackson, whom I had mixed feelings about. I had spilled some serious secrets in the rush of the moment, but now I was afraid I couldn't trust him. Despite this, every time he looked at me, butterflies started going crazy in my stomach.

"Nice, sis. Fly was always your worst stroke, right?"

"Well, it's the hardest for me, but I wouldn't say it's my worst..."

"I don't get it. What's fly?" asked Jackson. Will and I simultaneously rolled our eyes.

"Butterfly, AKA 'fly', is one of the four strokes. It's the one I was doing before the freestyle."

"Freestyle?"

"The ice cream scoop stroke," I said like I was talking to a 3 year old.

"Ohhhh...ok. What are the others?"

"Backstroke and breaststroke. Backstroke is the one on your back and breaststroke is often known as the frog. Freestyle can be called the crawl," I explained. "You are such an imbecile," I muttered.

"Can I see your workout?" Will questioned, apparently not hearing what I had last said.

"Sure." I passed him the small piece of notebook paper with my workout on it.

"Wow. I could never do this."

"I know. Like my wallpaper says, after a day of football, a swimmer would be bruised. After a day of swimming, a football player would be dead." Will laughed.

"You did 250 laps?!" Jackson exclaimed, astonished.

"Not all at once, dumbass. A 250 means 10 laps for me, because each lap is 25 yards. Swimmers measure distance in yards because pools have different lap lengths," I clarified. "Today, I swam 2,350 yards, or about 1.3 miles."

Jackson nodded, slowly understanding.

"Knock it off, sis." Will looked slightly pissed at my behavior. "So, you going to Kelly's party tonight?" my brother asked.

I shot him a look. "What do you think?!?"

"C'mon, it'll be fun!" Will whined.

"Not if that slut is there," I muttered.

"What's wrong with Kelly?" Jackson questioned. How oblivious was this guy?

"Kelly used to be my friend. It was me, Beth, Serena, Tiana, Anna, and Kelly. But then Kelly changed. She got a boyfriend, she'd steal alcohol from her parents, she had sex with different people. She wanted us to do the same. She pressured Beth the most, because the two of them had known each other the longest. Beth cracked, got drunk, and lost her virginity one night. After that, Tiana and I refused to talk to Kelly because she had forced poor Beth to go and throw her innocence out the window. Serena was the only one that still put up with Kelly, but finally she got sick of her too, and we all avoid her now. Sucks for her, we're pretty awesome." I tried to sound confident, but I don't think anyone bought it. The boys exchanged a look and Will shrugged.

"Oh." Was all Jackson said.

"Yeah...um, can we go?" I asked my idiot brother.

"Sure. You don't want to shower?"

"I will when we get home. The locker rooms are being cleaned right now."

We walked to Will's car. I got in, and stared at Jackson as he started to enter the car.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded.

"Getting a ride to our house," he responded, like I should know that.

"You mean my house."

"No, our house. Your parents didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?!" I demanded again, as Will climbed into the driver's seat. "Tell me what, William?!?"

Will winced. "Um, well, you see...Jacksonismovinginwithus?"

"I don't understand you when you talk that fast."

"Jackson is moving in with us," Will stated.

"WHAT?!?!?"

"I said-" Will began.

"I heard you," I spat. "Why? How come I don't get a say in this?!?"

"Because we knew you'd blow up like this."

"I'm not blowing up!" I scoffed. "I'm simply outraged because I thought that America was about freedom of speech!"

"You're kinda blowing up," noted Jackson.

"I'm sorry, I don't recall asking an egotistical murderer his opinion," I retorted, my voice venomous.

Jackson's jaw dropped and Will looked pissed, and I knew I should be sorry, but I honestly wasn't and I didn't care.

"Apologize. Right. Now." If looks could kill, Will would've put me six feet under by now.

"Why should I?!? The truth fucking hurts and life fucking sucks!!! My best friend killed herself and the humans growing inside her because of that asshole sitting behind me! And now you expect me to be okay with that!!!"

Jackson blanched. "Humans??? As in, plural?"

"No, pandas," I deadpanned. "Yes, humans! She wasn't just pregnant with one baby but three!!!"

"Evangeline, get out of the car." Will's voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.

"What?"

"You heard me. Get the fuck out of the car."

"Fine. Whatever. I'll walk home." I grabbed my bag and started walking. As Will and the Murderer sped away, a raindrop hit my cheek.

I'm stuck walking home in the fucking rain in just a swimsuit and a skirt. "Fucking perfect," I muttered.