The Tryout

We all sat on the bleachers. Every person who had tried out for the high school swim team was there. The coach stood in front of us. My best friend sat next to me. "Lilly," said my friend. I looked over at her. Her hair was still wet from her swim. "I think we're going to make the team," she said. I had my doubts about that. I had gotten third in my race. My friend had gotten first. Her dad was also the coach. She was guaranteed a spot. I, on the other hand, was not.

"Alright," said the coach, making us all sit up straight. We all watched him anxiously. I saw the new girl from the corner of my eye. She had gotten second in my race, beating me by only a few seconds. I knew she was from out of the country. I wondered where she was from, but I had never talked to her before. I had overheard a few people making fun of her accent, but had not said anything to them. I was afraid they would make fun of me too. My friend nudged me. I had zoned out.

"Pay attention," she hissed at me. I sighed and rolled my eyes at her. I looked at the coach. He was talking about the race before mine. He read the two names of the boys that had made the team for that race. My heart pounded. He began to talk about my race.

"All the girls who tried out for this race are very talented, but I can only choose two. Lilly Jones and Layla Blue, congratulations. You're on the team," said the coach. I was stunned. What about the other girl? I looked at her. She wrapped her towel tighter around herself. She put her head down. Should I give her my spot? That was the right thing to do. This was real life. Not a fairy tale. This was not some cliché story where the hero does something kind and they get something back from it. I knew if I gave up my spot, I would not be on the team. Guilt was building inside me. I had only gotten the spot because I was best friends with the coach's daughter. I took a deep breath and stood up.

"Sir," I said. The coach looked at me. The whole team was staring. "I got third in my race. The other girl was faster than me," I told him. "I made the team and she did not." He looked down at his clipboard. I looked at the girl. She looked at me, bewildered. I saw tears on her face. I looked back at the coach.

"Yes she did. Lilly, thank you for your kindness," he said. "Your spot will go to Kylie Jackson. Congratulations, Kylie." The girl looked at me. My friend was saying something, but I did not care. I had chosen kindness. I had done the right thing.