Freddie laughs at the sight of me and tosses me a pair of goggles. “Figured I should bring an extra pair for you.”
“Thanks,” I say. I take my time adjusting the goggles to fit my head, but really I’m stalling so that both of them will start swimming and I won’t have an audience.
Freddie pulls himself up into a tight ball at the edge of the pool and springs backward into a backstroke. I take the elastic around my wrist and knot my hair into a quick braid before trying to mimic his dive off the block.
Mine feels more like a belly flop, but luckily, Agnes and Freddie are already in the zone, doing laps up and down the pool.
Halfway through my first lap, I’m already panting. I don’t know if what I’m doing is freestyle or what, but it feels like I’m flailing around more than anything.
But I keep going. There’s some kind of liberty inknowing that each of us has our eyes on our own lanes. I swim from the deep end to the shallow end, and I have to admit: I’m sort of impressed with myself. Not because I’m good, but because I don’t stop. The whole thing sort of feels like dancing. You don’t know that you’re doing it wrong until someone says so.
As I’m about to circle around for another lap, a hand grips my shoulder. I emerge, gasping for air, my heart humming in my chest.
Freddie hovers above me and holds out an arm to help hoist me up. “You got pretty into it, huh?”
I nod, because I haven’t quite caught my breath enough to speak.
As I follow him to the locker rooms, a cranky-looking older white woman in a black Speedo swimsuit sitting on the bleachers says, “You ain’t got technique, but ya got speed.”
I swallow back a smile and shrug. I decide to take it as a compliment.
TEN
When I pull my cell phone from my backpack after school, I find two missed calls from Grace and one voice mail. My heart jumps into my throat. I listen to her voice mail as me, Ruthie, Adam, and Freddie walk out to the bike rack.
“Hey,” she says. “It’s me. Grace. I—I was calling to say hi. Just wanted to catch up is all.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I miss you.” Her voice makes it sound like a question.
My body can’t move fast enough. I need to talk to her. Or text her. Or go somewhere I can actually call her in private. My fingers and toes tingle like they’ve been asleep for days and are just now feeling a rush of blood.
I open up a new text message.I got your voice mail. I should be home in about ten minutes. Call me whenever you want.It takes all my self-restraint not to type in all caps littered with emojis and exclamation marks.
“Hey, this morning wasn’t so bad, right?” Freddie asks.
“What’d you guys do?” asks Ruthie.
Still staring down at my phone, I say, “We, uh, went tothe Y. Swam a few laps.”
Ruth turns to Freddie. “Wait, you actually got her to work out with you?” She whips her head back to me. “You never go running with me in the morning.”
“Running is the worst,” I tell her. “And it’s so hot and sticky and gross. And where are you even running to?”
She shakes her head. “It’s better than swimming into a wall.”
“I gotta go,” I tell them. “I’ll see y’all in the morning.”
“You don’t want to ride home together?” asks Freddie.
“Can’t,” I say as I’m unlocking my bike.
He nods and waves as I swing my leg over the seat, and he and Adam veer off toward the car wash.
Ruth runs to catch up to me. “I’ve got the Jeep. I’ll give you a ride.”
I bite down on my lip, thinking. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
My bike hangs out the back of the Jeep as Ruth pulls out slowly into the street at the pace of a snail.
I moan. “School zones.”
