Synchronized Swimming

Chapter 1: Sang the Soloist

Sang

One deep breath in, one shuddering breath out. Repeat. Music pulsed around me, echoing, mixing with the cheers from the crowd.

"Are you ready, Sang?" the referee asked. She had to strain her voice to be heard over the music. 

I nodded. I lied. 

Less than a minute before I walked out. Fighting the urge to vomit, I glanced around one last time—an unfortunate mistake. Eye contact with my stepmother seared through me, displacing the semblance of calm I'd created as I prepared to swim my solo. She stood to the side, giving the appearance of being a normal coach concerned for her swimmer, but I knew better. Mother and mentor, coach, and friend were all words that I hadn't used to describe her in a long time. I settled on a nickname, one more suited to her cold and callous disposition: Avidite, The French word for greed.

I hopped up and down a few times to get my blood pumping. As the music faded, the referee motioned for me to walk up on deck. Her kind smile and sparkling eyes helped me push back the negativity swirling around me. It was time. I closed my eyes, gave myself eight counts to push it all away, and took my first steps on deck. The scratchy mat covering the tile was rough against my bare feet. Every motion of my walk was highly practiced, from the exact angle of my head to the position of my index fingers slightly above the others. The movements had to be sharp, but not so sharp as to be robotic. Relaxed, but not sloppy. After fourteen steps and another half one to bring my feet together, I finally faced the glittering pool. Standing, hands reaching for opposite walls, I waited for the music to begin, a hint of a smile on my face.

As the dark chords of my music washed over me, I stood up tall, reaching for the ceiling, and kicked my leg up toward my face. My eyes sought out the judges before diving in, but I saw only my mother, her ugly eyes promising pain if I disappointed her. The delicate curves of my hands morphed into fists next to my hips. I would not let her ruin this for me. Pushing off the deck in a graceful arc, I surged into the water with barely a splash.

The icy water rushed over me, pulling the air from my lungs. I reveled in the feeling of emptiness. Competing was the joy of my life. Alone in the pool with hundreds of people surrounding me, it was the only time Avidite couldn't touch me. I channeled my sorrow, my loneliness, my pain into my solo. Each move painted a picture of my life, complementing the somber music. My agonized motions ripped a hole in my soul, and through that hole, everyone could see the true me. The experience was liberating. Whenever I started to feel tired, or the urge to breathe became so strong that blackness encroached on my vision, I thought of that freedom, and I found the strength to push through. Legs swirling, arms arcing, body contorting, I pushed myself to the limits of my strength and flexibility.

A solo may have only been two and a half minutes long, but for me, it was a lifetime. Every emotion possible had a chance to escape from my guarded heart. By the time I sank underwater for the last time, I was both mentally and physically drained. My legs tingled as I swam toward the side of the pool. I felt numb, but placed a carefully-crafted smile on my face to hide the fact. With the judges making their final scores, it was critical to remain strong. My arms quivered when I pushed myself out of the pool.

"And that was Sang Sorenson, an independent swimmer," an announcer called over the speaker. Applause ripped through the pool area. All around me, people were cheering, shouting. Everyone, except for the person who mattered the most. Off to the side, Avidite shook her head, a dangerous glint in her malice-filled eyes. Inside, I crumpled, but my mental lapse didn't crack my perfect stance.

My scores flashed on the screens around me. The numbers gave me hope that maybe, I would finally have satisfied my mother. "A new record for the 16-17 age division! Congratulations, Sang." The cheering grew stronger at the announcer's words, but my mother didn't join in. After the crowd settled down, I knew I couldn't delay it any longer. My feet dragged along the slippery tile as I trudged toward her. Disappointment racked my body. My time of freedom was over. What brought me incredible joy moments earlier would now ensure my punishment. 

My eyes never left the floor as I approached her. It was covered with glitter and the occasional bent bobby pin. Her sweaty hand latched on to my arm with an iron grip, pulling me next to her. She squeezed harder. "You think you're so good, setting a new record. You are nothing. You are worthless," she said into my ear. Her warm breath made me shudder. "You disgraced me. You botched your second hybrid, and your third boost wasn't high enough. When we get home, I'll show you what your failure deserves. After that, more practice. You will not mess up again."

I knew my swim was my best ever. I knew that, but her words cast doubt in my heart. I could have tried harder. I messed up. People would talk about Sang Sorenson, the girl who ruined a solo even a novice could swim. Eyes cast downward, I slowly nodded my head. Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I loved synchro, but the tiny voice inside me whispered that it wasn't worth the aftermath.

Avidite tightened her grip on my arm and pulled me out of the pool area toward our car. We passed team after team of smiling, happy girls. My heart panged. Would I ever experience the bond only a team can know?

The urge to stop had me turning around to see what was happening. Avidite tugged on my arm. My eyes widened when I saw a team of seven boys standing on the pool deck. Off to the side of the pool were their two coaches, one wearing a blue shirt with a white shark on it, the other a suit of all things. The man in the suit made eye contact with me. The corner of his mouth dipped down into a frown. My head fell. I'd disappointed him, and for some reason, that made me want to cry.

When we got to the car, Avidite's laugh covered the dull thrum of music escaping from the pool.