But anyone else in my position would be. What girl who’d been through what I’ve been through would do any better? No one. That’s who.
I’m capable of standing on my own two feet. Gabriel needs to let me.
Urgh. I’m reading too much into this.
I consider ignoring this text as well, but that feels like an asshole move. I don’t want him to think I’m ignoring him. I’m not. And he did follow up with more than‘Hey.’
I sigh, my fingers moving over my keyboard with what I hope is a safe enough response.
Me: Maybe… I’ll think about it.
I slipped my suit on beneath my clothes while I was home, so I quickly strip out of my oversized t-shirt and jeans and set my phone and other belongings on a chair before tucking my hair into a swim cap and putting on my goggles.
A whistle blows. “Come on, ladies. Push!”
I lift my gaze to the pool and a pang of longing stutters through my chest as I watch Coach Cho urge the girls to move faster. She looks down at her stopwatch, her expression pinched as her eyes flick from it to the nine swimmers racing through the lanes.
I considered going out for the swim team last year before the assault and everything that happened after it. I’m good enough to make the team. My fifty-meter freestyle is faster than Cate’s—the team’s fastest swimmer in freestyle for PacNorth. But I just … I don’t know. I could never work up the nerve to go for it. I was on the cheer squad already, and at the time, I didn’t want to rock the boat with my team.
Swimming has always been my stress reliever. I think I convinced myself that turning it into a competitive sport would take away my joy. Really, I think I was more concerned about upsetting my friends if I left the squad and chose swimming over cheer, but look how that turned out.
Joelle and Kim don’t talk to me. And I’m not on the cheer squad anymore, nor did I join the swim team. I’m just … alone.
There’s a part of me that misses being a part of something. Misses being on a team. But there’s a bigger part of me that’s terrified of joining one only to have the rug yanked out from under me all over again. Losing my friends after the assault was hard. Losing the team and everyone else I counted as part of my support system, that made everything that much harder.
It’s too late for all of that now, though. The season has already started. Maybe next year I’ll put myself out there. It’d make Mom and Dad happy. I sigh knowing how unlikely it is thatI’ll go through with it. But it’s a nice thought. Something to be hopeful about, as Dr. Walker likes to remind me.
Hope is being able to see that there is, in fact, light despite all of the world’s darkness.
I’m just over here still searching for it.
Pushing my thoughts aside, I make my way to the block and step onto it, getting myself into position. This is where I clear my thoughts. Where I let everything going on in my life go.
Curling my toes over the edge, I bend forward, keeping my face close to my knees as I grip the front of the diving block with my fingers.
Lifting my hips in the air, I take a deep breath and close my eyes. You’ve got this, I tell myself.
I hear the rustle of the other swimmers getting into position in the lanes beside me and wait for their coach to blow her whistle. I don’t usually compete beside them like this. Not in such an obvious way. But today, I want to latch onto that hope.
My heart races with anticipation. The scent of chlorine fills the air, and for a second, I imagine what it would be like to race for PacNorth University. To hear the roar of a crowd. To know that everyone around me is cheering for me to succeed.
The only thing that matters in this moment is the water that stretches out before me. Not Austin’s bullshit. Not the way things are between me and Gabriel. Not how my friends turned their backs on me. Or how all my parents seem to do is worry.
My anxiety doesn’t matter. Depression doesn’t matter.
None of it matters.
The world around me blurs, and my focus narrows to the clear blue lane ahead.
The seconds tick by and then I hear the sound I’ve been waiting for. “Take your marks!” Coach yells.
I’m not a part of the team, but screw it. For today, I’m going to pretend I am.
The whistle blows, announcing the start of the race, and I explode off the block. I don’t know what stroke everyone else is doing but I also don’t care. My body arches through the air. Water rushes up to meet me and for a split second, I’m weightless, suspended in the blue until I kick up and break the surface, slicing through the water like a knife.
I feel strong in this moment.
Brave.
