Page 103 of Gabriel
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 racefor 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.
My arms propel me forward, each stroke more powerful than the one before it.
There’s this sense of urgency thrumming inside of me. I want to win. No. I need to win.
The water parts before me, a liquid highway that urges me to go faster.
The wall approaches, and I kick harder, my body driving toward the ledge. The seconds tick away, but time loses its meaning. All that matters is the final stretch.
With a surge of power, I reach out, my fingertips brushing the wall. I lift my head from the water and look around, counting the seconds until the next fastest swimmer reaches the wall.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Holy shit.
Five.
Six.
Another girl touches the wall. She breaks the surface, a wide smile on her face until she sees me. She turns to her side, taking note of the other swimmers whose times she did beat. But she didn’t beat mine.
Triumph floods through me.
I smile to myself and use the ledge of the pool to lift myself out of the water. That was … exhilarating. I want to do it again.
Only my excitement is short-lived. As soon as I take off my goggles, I catch a familiar face pushing off from the wall across the room.
Parker Benson.
