Flippers

• three; and it was the calm before the storm •

                           T H R E E ; and it was the calm before the storm

          THE ATMOSPHERE IN THE quaint town of Hawke's Bay was mild, the pleasant air reflecting the undertone of the school ground. The perfume of the yellow chrysanthemum's wafted through the air, the course and unrelenting sunlight reflecting its chrome tenor. The synchronous splashes of the swimming practice held on my right molded with the faint buzzing of the dragonflies.  If it wasn't for the Hiroshima-Nagasaki bomb dropped by Professor Chattopadhyay, the weather would have been the highlight of my day. Too lazy to lift them, I dragged my feet across the lawn and made my way towards the pool. I needed to submit a document to the nearby Admin Department in Block A. 

          Before I could further delve on the day's happening, my ears tuned into something that resembled a quiet sob.  

           I had now reached the entrance of the indoor stadium, and just under the board indicating the entrance of the Olympic pool, was a little girl with a heavy tan and blonde hair indicating her bleached relationship with the chlorinated water. She was a bit on the stouter side, and had both her hands placed over her head. Holding that position, she took a leap and squatted on the floor, only to stand up and repeat it all over again. Frog Jumps. It was a classic punishment used by the trainers. 

          Ten bloody years ago. 

            Five frog jumps later, the girl stopped, and adjusted the front and back of her frilled costume which was clearly not meant for this physical task. Polka dotted. Bright yellow, with gaudy blue spots printed over them. One piece. Too loose for her size. Frilled. One that covered her upper thighs. All classic signs suggesting that of a beginner. What made the situation worse were the group of girls and boys, around her age, pointing fingers and sneaking in a few snickers across her way, without any attempt to be inconspicuous. 

The quiet tears strolling down her face, interspersed with occasional sobs, indicated that she was well aware of this fact. I watched her pace decrease with each round, and her stubby legs eventually shiver after each squat due to overexertion. The harsh Sun made no attempts to help her case, neither did her classmates. One of them had her phone out, and had started to click pictures.

           The poor girl was five frog jumps away from collapsing. 

            My heart began to pound faster, this time in slow engaged anger, and I could feel my blood start to boil. This was not what this high school was supposed to be about. Instead, all it seemed to do was promote hedonistic happiness and characterless behaviour by 24X7 selfie-clicking-material-dependent uncultured and insecure swines that feasted on the weak.  And it was unfortunate that this was slowly seeping onto the younger generations too. But this? This was just plain wrong. Morally. Humanistically. In whatever bloody perspective that one wanted to see.

            This hit close to home, and I hated every single second of it.  I had years of experience trying to understand and shield myself from the peer pressure and bullying, but not the little one. She did not deserve any of this.

             On impulse and before my brain could comprehend my actions, I took my water bottle from the bag, and made my way towards the girl. This was not good, and I had an unsinkable feeling churning in the bottom of my stomach. Years of avoiding any kind of confrontation and burying emotions under the carpet, and this had to happen now. Three-hundred-and-fifty days before graduation. 

             As I approached closer, my steps started to falter, the sudden confidence dwindling faster than I could say Jack Robinson.

             Looking around, I tried to search for the person responsible for this. As my eyes scanned the pool deck, a tall figure stood out donned in a tracksuit and a cap under the raven locks; and I could recognize it at once. The once porcelain skin was now a beautiful tan, and if it was even possible, seemed more sculpted and toned than before. The only thing that was constant was the sneer on her face that was currently barking orders at another swimmer, oblivious to the scene at the entrance of the pool.