Twenty Seventh: Smile
I slept with wonderment struck on my face and woke up still having it.
This is so not a dream.
“Saydie! Ten minutes and we’re leaving.”
Then reality came back again.
I accidentally slept in. I got carried away.
I have café duty today!
I took a quick shower and dressed up.
I swiftly ran down stairs and was impressed that I could actually do that in less than a second!
*****
“What a fine smile you got there.”
I snapped.
Farrah’s voice kind of frazzled me out every now and then even though she’s being kind or just being herself.
“What smile?” I rubbed my eyes, feeling a little worn out from last night, trying to sleep.
“That kind of smile tells me something, you know?”
“What?” I asked.
“Something . . . special.” She stared me a look, “So who bought you that smile?”
“What? No one.”
“You’re lying, Saydie. Come on, just tell me.”
“I’m telling the truth.” I avoided her eyes, “I’m not lying.”
“There you go again, you’re lying.” She sang.
She was so good at this. I focused on putting the serviettes on the container, thinking if I should tell her. But I refused.
“Come on Saydie. Lying is bad.” She told me as if she’s a primary teacher.
I first scanned the room to check if there were still customers. But no one was there, only an old lady reading a newspaper.
I sighed, “It’s Ethan. Happy?”
“The one you hated?” she was shocked
“Yeah sure, that one.” I said in an uninterested tone.
“And you suddenly became friends with him? Wow that’s a big step. Enemies to lovers.”
“What?” I almost shouted, “No!”
“Then what are you? Just friends?” she mimicked in an annoying voice.
“Of course.” I rolled my eyes, “Just friends.” I repeated.
“So no more swim talk, yes?”
I stared blankly. I realized that I had to focus on swimming. The competition’s still on. I had to train hard. Harder than anyone else. But it seemed that it wasn’t worth it anymore. The only goal I had was to beat Ethan. But now I couldn’t find any reason why I wanted to beat him. I wanted to beat him because I used to hate him. But now, well, I kind of like him. Then what’s the point of training hard? To win without a purpose was quite pointless. But my dad would definitely appreciate if I did.
“Oh my gosh. What time is it?” I quickly looked for one.
“Quarter past one.”
I hastily grabbed my back pack and ran away.
“Thirty minutes late.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Quick. Change.”
Being always late could get me into trouble. But since I was the coach’s daughter, I was given more chances, which didn’t improve my tardiness anyway.
Today, we presumed our training in the water. It’s easier if we did this in the pool, but no. We’re in the beach and that added more obstacles which was “Better.” According to my dad.
It was now my turn to swim at least thirty to thirty five feet away to reach the yellow flag in able to accomplish the main course. I didn’t know if I could do it. It seemed that I lacked a lot of instructions and needed more. It felt like I was distracted. But by what?
But hey, If they could do it, then I could.
I positioned myself into a dive. Once I plunged in, I gradually did freestyle until I could go further as possible.
I did it!
My finger pushed the red circular button located below the yellow flag, as what the coach instructed me to do once I accomplished it.
The coach blew the whistle, meaning I had to go back.
“So, how long did I take?” my breathing easily gasped for air. I reached the sand.
His eyes studied the stop watch for a while. I waited, hoping it was better than the last time.
“Almost four minutes. You can do better than that.” He looked dissatisfied, moving on to the next student.
I grabbed a towel and patted it from my arms to my legs.
I’m definitely sure that I did better than that. But why is he still disappointed? I did my best.
Thoughts circled my mind intentionally.
“You need more focus.”
Ethan, who was sitting and watching beside the huge rock, flew his feet beside me.
“I did have focus. I did the best I can.”
“You need more training then.” He said as if he was the coach.
“You mean these teachings aren’t enough?”
“It looked like. Do you want me to help you?”
Ethan. Helping me win? Or more of, helping me to beat him? Now that’s an absolute change he’d done.
“Are you serious? You know that we’re not team mates, don’t you?” I explained.
“Come on. I’m just trying to help.”
“Okay. Just trying to help.” I repeated.
YOU ARE READING
A Beautiful Mess
Teen Fiction"I had never thought in a million years that a boy who used to hate me, who used to make me cry, who used to play tricks on me could possibly make me fall in love with him.." Saydie was only four when Ethan started playing tricks on her: purposely s...
