Perfectly Awful (Cody Simpson FanFic)

"Swimmers for the 50 freestyle sprint, please make your way to the starting blocks."

        The words rang through the open swim area, the muffled, low-quality sound bouncing off the tall walls and high ceiling to create an echo. The side opposite the bleachers- which were overflowing with parents, siblings, and high school students- a 16-year-old girl walked across the length of the pool. She took a fistful of her carrot colored hair into her left hand, lifting it up and wrapping a hair-tie around it with her right. The girl received multiple pats on the shoulders and encouraging compliments from her fellow teammates as she walked past them. With a quick swish of her hands, her neon yellow swim cap was atop her head, covering every millimeter of the ginger hair. The ocean blue swim goggles sat loosely in-between her fingers. When she reached the starting block, her coach of 11 years was waiting for her.
        Andrés Calderón was only 25 when he started coaching adolescent swimming, and the young swimmer before him was one of his first students. He was a stocky man. The 36-year-old Brazilian male stood only at 5'8", but no doubt muscular. His olive colored skin matched his hazel eyes, and contrasted against his naturally white teeth. He decided to style his light brown hair that morning, just enough product to keep it in place, but still look a little messy. He gave her a reassuring smile, setting his hand on her shoulder.
        "Mickey," he called the red-head by her nickname. "This is possibly the biggest race of your life.... no pressure." He cracked a laugh at his own comment. "Seriously, though, this is a big race for you. We're talking about a chance at the Olympics here. This is no joke."
        "I know, coach." Mickey nodded, beginning to wrap the goggles around her head, but only setting them above her forehead.
        "You were one of my first swimmers. We've been through this entire journey together, and now the rest of your future is on the line. I know that's a lot on your plate, and these next few minutes are make it or break it, but I believe in you. You are my best swimmer, and I know you're going to kill this race. Remember, what do I always say? Don't focus on the problem-"
        "Focus on the solution." Mickey finished for him, flashing an innocent smile that reminded Andrés of the same 5 year old girl that showed up at his swim class so many years ago.
        "First up, in lane one, is Zachary Keefer," the announcer spoke into the microphone, going down the list of swimmers in that particular race.
        "You got this!" Andrés encouraged, smacking his hands on Mickey's shoulders. She nodded and turned around, taking one last gulp of her water bottle before handing it off. She clasped her hands as she stretched her arms out forward, then over her head, bending sideways in each direction, making sure to stretch out her most needed muscles. She kicked her feet a couple times out of nervousness as they approached her name.
        "In lane four," she heard through the speakers. Oh gosh, here we go, she thought to herself as her heart rate increased. "Is Makayla McJames." Mickey wasn't quite sure why her parents named her Makayla since her last name was McJames. Even her middle name was Mackenzie. To Mickey, her name was much too clunky.
        Mickey got a few cheers from her teammates and some people in the crowd. She widened her eyes and exhaled sharply for emphasis as she locked eyes with her parents in the audience. Her dad gave her thumbs up and her mom clutched her chest and mouthed 'me too.'
        Once all 8 swimmers were introduced, they were signaled to step onto their respected starting blocks. Mickey adjusted the strap of her black and red speedo, breathing in before stepping up, left foot first. Once up on the plastic step, she adjusted herself so that her left foot was on the front edge, her toes curled around the block, knee bent, and her right foot back towards the opposite end. Her heart was beating so fast, she could've sworn she could see it through her chest. Her hands found themselves up to her forehead, pulling the goggles over her eyes.
        "Take your mark." She looked over and saw the announcer holding the buzzer that would signal the start of the race. She followed instruction as she bent forward, holding her arms over head, right over left, so that they were lightly pressed against her ears.
       
        BEEP!