Sink or Swim

t w o

Chapter Two - Noah

I stare at the rest of my team longingly. Jackson smirks at me, tossing me a smug wave. I scowl, before dunking my head under the water before I do another stupid thing. Fuck him.

"100 metres freestyle, 100 metres backstroke, 100 metres butterfly, go." I don't bother to steal a glance at my coach as I push off the wall at his instruction. I can tell from his voice he's still angry at me.

My body moves at its own avail, 15 years of competitive swimming does that to you. Your body knowing how to react before your brain can even process. My mind settles on the familiarity. The pattern. The control. I love swimming because I can control it. Fuck everything else, it's just me and the water. Pull, pull, pull, left, right, left, right. By the time I'm finished the 300 metres, my breathing is in a steady rhythm. But where some people hate breathing hard, I crave it. I crave the feeling of gasping for air. I love it because it makes me feel alive. I continue to listen to Coach yell at me before completing exactly what he says.

"I hope that this teaches you, Roberts. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning." Coach salutes me, before walking towards the exit. His crocs crunch with each step against the wet floor, causing me to chuckle.

I pull my goggles off, tossing them on the pool deck before hoisting my body out of the pool. I reach down and grab my googles, heading to the changeroom.

By the time I am showered and dress, I check my watch and see that I am almost late for picking up Emma from her friends house. I rush to my car to gun it across town. My phone music automatically connects to my car bluetooth, playing random music in the background. I don't know what I had last listened to, but I was too lazy to change it. It was melodic, unlike the random shit I normally play. By the time I pull into the driveway of Emma's friends place, I'm 15 minutes late. I jump out of my car, heading to the door in quick strides.

Knock, knock.

I stand there, my hands sitting comfortable in my pants pockets. I hear footsteps running to the door, the slow squeak as a face pokes out. Elora stares a me, a soft smile breaking onto her face.

"Hey, just in time! The girls just finished drawing," she said. Her eyes are tired, and I can't imagine what is hidden behind those eyes. Elora is a young mother of 4, with 3 under the age of 5. Emma and her daughter, Stella, had become quite close in the past few months. Dad and I tried our best to have Stella over as often as possible, to alleviate as much stress on Elora as possible. Elora opens the door wide enough to let me step inside, the smell of fresh baking wafting from the kitchen. My stomach grumbles at it's own accord, causing Elora to chuckle.

"Hungry?" she asks, motioning to my stomach.

"Apparently."

I kick off my shoes as she motions to follow her to the kitchen. The floorboards crack beneath my feet, adjusting to my weight.

"I made banana chocolate chip muffins today for the girls snack. They even have a secret ingredient, but if I tell you, you can't tell the girls or they'll never eat them again."

Elora stares at me, waiting for me to nod.

"Oh, Elora, I would never tell." I respond jokingly, slapping my hand against my chest before tossing her a smile.

"Mhmmm, sure you wouldn't." she says knowingly. "I added zucchini to them, but you could never tell."

I raise my eyebrows as she hands me a muffin. I pull back the muffin wrapper, bringing the sweet smelling baked good to my mouth. A moan echoes through the room, and it takes me a second before realizing that the moan came from me.

Elora laughs and rolls her eyes. "That good, hey?"

"Come bake for me everyday." I respond, still chewing.

"I could give you the recipe, but I don't think that would end well. Emma told me what happened last time you baked something."

My laugh fills the room as I remember the time. A month ago, Emma had begged me to make her brownies. Me, being the best brother in the whole wide world, had the amazing idea to surprise her with them. But with my luck in the kitchen, or apparently just with baking, I made them and added salt instead of sugar and had also overcooked them. So not only were they really fucking salty, they were hockey pucks too.

"To my credit, the jar wasn't labelled!"

"Most people would check what they're putting in. A taste test, or in the very least a lil' sniff test." Elora chuckles once more before shouting, "Girls!"

I can hear the stampede of feet on the upper floor as the girls come rushing down. When they burst into the room, all I see is Emma's ginormous smile. Her smile lights a room up, when she does smile. Her the corners of her eyes crinkle, and her eyes themselves twinkle.

"Ready to go squirt?" I ruffle her hair, watching as she glares and tries to fix it.

"I told you to stop calling me squirt," she grumbles.

"Okay squirt." I respond, watching for her reaction.

"I'd call you a bad word, but I have to keep up my good rep." Emma spins on her heel before heading to the front door.

"What a sassy little thing." Elora remarks with a smile of admiration passing over her face.

"Gonna be tough to deal with when she's a teenager."

"That she is, that she is."

I head back to the front, pulling my shoes back on. Emma is staring at me passively as I reach for the door handle.

"Thanks Elora," I shout as I head out the door.

Just before the door shuts I hear, "anytime!"

I unlock the car, opening the back door so Emma can easily climb into her car seat. She was small for her age, and as much as she hated her car seat, it was my deal for picking her up from places instead of Dad. Since Mom left, Emma has held resentment towards him. It wasn't his fault what happened, there is nothing else he could have done to support her. He was struggling. But Emma was too young to understand that.

As I get into the drivers seat, my phone pings to alert me of a text. I change the music from Bluetooth to the radio before Emma can hear my music, and pull up my Messages.

Cameron: Yo man, I just got to the chair and it's missing a kit. If you have a minute, can you bring one to me so I don't have to leave my station. The beach is fucked right now.

Me: Ya man, no prob. Be there in like 15.

"Hey Em, you good if we stop at the lifeguard hut quick?" I turn back to look at my little sister.

A flash of sadness crosses her face before she forces a smile and nods. I sigh, starting my car and heading towards work. Cameron and I had worked together lifeguarding for a few years, and settled into the pattern of helping each other grab things when our coworkers forgot. Even if we weren't on shift. Bro for bro. By the time I pull into the driveway, Emma has forced herself back into her coccoon. It was hard to see her shell up that quickly. No longer were her eyes twinkling or a slight smile lingering on her face. Her face was dark, deep in thought. I hop out, and pop over to her door, pulling her out. She sullenly walks across the street to the beach, not even bothering to look to see if cars were coming. Normally I would yell at her, but honestly, staring at her little dejected figure, I knew now was not the time. She was similar to Mom. And that scared me. Wondering if she'd turn out the same. As she sits down on her log, I job to the lifeguard hut before heading in the direction of Cameron's post.