Holly still wants to swim.
The bell had just rung. Holly left English and made her way down the noisy hallway for her locker, which, thankfully, was on the same floor. She had enough time to grab her pre-algebra text and maybe put on a little moisturizer, because her skin was constantly itchy, almost certainly from the chlorine and soda ash in the pool.
It was Friday. She had endured five practices. Five practices as the only member of the team. Colin swam in the lane next to her; Tommy the lane over. That is, when he wasn’t watching her, coaching her, correcting her stroke technique, trying to teach her butterfly, and encouraging her.
He didn’t get on her for her fear of putting her face in the water. It wasn’t too bad, that fear, and so she swam the other strokes—breaststroke and freestyle. Not often, but she tried. Enough to discover that she liked freestyle a lot.
But not butterfly. That was too hard.
He was a good coach. That was hard for her to admit. She wanted to stay angry at him about how he had treated her buds. But the more she swam, the more she felt that he was in the right.
And the buds? Erica, Amy, Julie, and Tobi? Well, they weren’t anymore. They had abandoned her, pushed her away when she told them she was staying. Rumor was that they were bad-mouthing her. One rumor floated to her that they were going to “kick her ass.”
That sucked. Hard. Now virtually friendless, she cried the first two nights because of it, keeping her voice down so her father wouldn’t hear, stuffing her face into her pillow. She tried talking to them, offering an olive branch, but they wouldn’t even answer their phones or wait for her outside class. She even left them voicemails telling them that Tommy would take them back if they just showed up with better attitudes. They didn’t even need to apologize or anything. Just show up.
They never called back. And if they saw her in the hall at school, they walked the other way or sneered at her and refused to say anything. Amy and Tobi were in her Earth Science class; they avoided her like the plague.
She was so hurt that she thought she might quit, just not show up anymore for practice. But Colin … he was her friend too—her only friend now—and he was going out of his way to make her feel welcome in the pool. He was a dork, a big stupid, but he was so sweet, and … she didn’t want to lose him too. So she stayed.
A meet was coming next week—next Tuesday, just before Thanksgiving Break. Crescent City. The reigning conference champs. Something like a zillion girls. They’d all be staring—at her. The lone Ferndale High School swimmer. Pure, unadulterated humiliation. She didn’t want to go so bad that the thought of it roiled her tummy and made her want to pee her pants.
She got to her locker, changed out her books, put on some moisturizer, and pulled out her phone to glance at it for a moment (they weren’t allowed in class) to take a quick look at the time. She had six minutes yet. Enough to go pee.
She put more moisturizer on her forearms, shoved the container back in her locker, closed it, hauled her backpack over her shoulder, and hurried for the bathroom, which was just down the hall.
Inside, a couple of seniors talked at one of the four sinks, and another—whom Holly knew was the school’s star basketball player—was walking to one of the stalls just as she came in.
Kaylee. That’s right. Star forward on the girls’ basketball team, which was a perennial conference champion. Constant articles in the paper. Rumors that Stanford wanted her to play for them.
The bathroom was loud—the hum of the ventilation fan in the ceiling, the flushing of a toilet, another girl loudly talking in a stall, arguing about something or other with someone or other, and chatter from the seniors at the sinks.
Holly took the stall next to the one where the girl was still talking on the phone and quietly locked the door, sighing while hanging her backpack over the door hook.
She finished, flushed, opened the door, and, backpack in hand, stepped out—right into Erica Corbett and Amy Stanton, who blocked her path.
"Hey, look," said Erica, stepping forward. "It’s the little sell-out. Bet Daddy is having you kneel before him in appreciation every night, huh? Bet you’re doing Tommy too, huh? Little Miss Team Pet, I—"
"There a problem?" a sudden, angry, voice demanded from behind Erica. Holly looked past them both and saw that the three seniors were staring over their shoulders at them, all frowning. The speaker, Kaylee, said to Holly, "You okay?"
Holly said, "I'm—"
That was all she got out. Erica's fist flew out of nowhere into her eye, felling her instantly. She dropped to her knees, an explosion of stars in her vision, her hands coming up convulsively to protect her face. Something blunt slammed into her tummy half a second later, knocking the wind out of her and doubling her over. Her head struck the cool tile with a soft thump as she struggled to draw breath. A kick to her back made her scream. Then another.
"GET OFF HER!" she heard Kaylee and another senior roar as she gasped for air, her eye feeling like it had just exploded back into her brain. She heard Erica scream “FUCK YOU!” and then a struggle—a trash can getting knocked over; Erica shrieking somewhere behind her, sounding like she was being restrained.
"Stay down, honey," a calming voice said as a large hand pressed gently against her shoulder. It was Kaylee. "Don't try to get up. Just breathe through your nose."
Holly heard her say, “Roseanne—call security.”
“Got it,” she heard whoever Roseanne was say.
Holly, crying, peered out her good eye, still in a fetal position.
Amy was nowhere to be found. She had fled.
"GET OFF OF ME, YOU FAT-ASS CUNT!" Erica shrieked, struggling but being held firm by one of the seniors, who glared at her as Kaylee rose, standing over Holly for a moment before calmly walking towards Erica, who was no match for any of them.
Kaylee grabbed the back of Erica’s hair, yanking hard, causing Erica’s head to thump audibly against the hard tile wall.
“FUCK YOU!” Erica shrieked, struggling.
Kaylee’s hand gripped harder, then harder still. Erica went silent, her face plum-red.
“Know what, bitch? We know that girl. We admire the shit out of her. She’s all by herself in that pool, with more spirit in her fucking pinkie finger than you’ve got in your entire skank-ass body.”
Her grip increased even more. Erica shrieked again—not with rage, but pain.
“LET ME GO! LET ME GO! FUCK YOU! LET ME GOOOOOO!”
Kaylee’s face drew up close. “Guess you didn’t know we’re her fan club. Which means if we see you within fifty feet of her from now on, shit’s gonna get very real. Understand?”
Erica had lost her words. She was just screaming—deafeningly.
Kaylee yanked even harder. Erica went silent.
“I said—do you un-der-stand?”
“YES!” Erica screamed, sobbing. "YES-YES-YEEEES!"
“Don’t say ‘yes’,” said Kaylee calmly. “Say the words ‘I understand.’ ”
“I UNDERSHTAND!” Erica shrieked in a nasally garble.
Kaylee’s release was as brutal as her grip. Erica flopped forward onto the tile near the sinks, grabbing the back of her head, crying like a baby. She scrambled away on her bottom for several feet, her face a horror story of frustrated fury and abject fear, before pushing herself up and limping to the exit, holding a wad of her hair.
She got to her feet and scrambled down the hall, screaming and swearing.
Holly, crying, heard a muffled male voice: "Security! Is it safe to come in?"
"We're all good here!" Kaylee yelled back.
"Coming in!" said the guard, who was named Frayer, a thirty-something man with short dark hair and blue eyes. Holly heard the door swing open.
Kaylee knelt at Holly’s side. “C’mon up, honey. Let’s get you to the nurse. You’ve got quite the shiner.”
Holly said, "It hurts…"
"Hold on," Frayer said into a radio attached to his shoulder. "Assault in the girls' bathroom west hall, third floor."
"Copy that," came the static-muffled voice of Mr. Hicks.
He came forward and, seeing her injuries, said, “Well, hell.”
With Kaylee's help, Holly stood.
"How ya doin' there, champ?" the senior asked.
Holly couldn't help the angry tears. "Fuck her. Fuck all of them!"
Kaylee grinned, glancing at her friends. "What did I tell ya? We got ourselves a badass mofo right here. Can you walk to the nurse all right?"
Holly, nodding, gingerly wiped stinging tears from under her injured eye.
"Let's go then," said Kaylee.
They left the bathroom. A crowd had gathered. Some snorted with laughter when they looked at her eye and her red cheeks shining with tears.
"Back to class!" Frayer yelled, leaving the senior girls with Holly. "I'm assigning detention in 3 ... 2 ... 1...!"
The crowd dispersed.
"Stupid-ass high school," said one of the girls, a tall black girl like Kaylee. Holly thought she was on the basketball team too, but wasn’t sure.
"Stupid assholes," said Kaylee in disgust.
"Pretty much," said the third girl. She too was tall, with short brown hair, large brown eyes, and freckles.
They stopped when they saw John Olander marching quickly towards them from the main stairwell. His face was a knot of impatient anger.
"Get her down to the nurse," he ordered when he arrived, glancing at Holly's swelling eye with something that looked like pity but was almost certainly contempt. "The hell did this?"
"Don’t know," said Kaylee. "Some other freshman was with her."
“Erica!” cried Holly. “Erica Corbett! And Amy Stanton!”
“They’re both gone,” Kaylee said.
Olander said nothing more, but left them behind, ostensibly to find Holly’s assailants.
"He's such a dick," said one of the girls.
"Four years of that," grunted Kaylee.
"Not one game has he ever showed up to, not even last year's conference championship."
"Or the year before," added the other girl.
"If you've got it swinging between your legs, though, oh hell yeah, he'll be there," said Kaylee. "But only if."
Holly felt a hand fall softly on her shoulder. "When's your first meet?" Kaylee asked.
"Next Tuesday," said Holly.
"Here or there?"
"There," said Holly, her heart falling again into her feet at the thought. "Crescent City."
"Buncha bitch-ass pussies," said Kaylee with a snort.
The other girls laughed.
"Tell you what, Holly," said Kaylee, "we're going down there to watch you. Damn straight."
Holly's heart fell even further, if that was possible. "No ..." she said, feeling enormous responsibility weight and fear of screwing up not just in front of a hostile swimming team but now senior girls—one of them a star athlete!
"Oh yes," said Kaylee, squeezing her shoulder. "No need to fear now; we're here for you win, lose, or shit the bed. Got it?"
"I—I'm scared.”
"So what?" said the freckled one. "Everybody is. That's not unusual, girl. The whole point about all this is that, for one second out there in the water or the court, you become unscared."
"That sounded so fucking corny," said Kaylee, and all of them giggled—even Holly despite the pain. "But it's also true. Just one second of pure being, you know? No fear, no doubt, no self-hate, no nothin’. It’s why most people play competitive anything. To get that one second. You can build a whole life on that second."
At the nurse's office, they stopped.
"We mean it," said Kaylee as the other girls nodded. "We admire you. Now get your tiny little ass in there and get that shiner looked at."
Holly hesitated, her good eye looking back at them with obvious fear and admiration.
"Wait,” said the freckled one, “here's my number," quickly pulling her phone out of her pocket. "Text me. Or not. Your choice. I’m Roseanne. This—" she threw a thumb at the other girl—“is Devin.”
"I will," said Holly.
“Good idea,” said Kaylee. She quickly added her own name and number, as did Devin. "We're here. You need a ride, you need a boy to get the shit kicked out of him, you need a late-night friend to talk to, you text any of us, got it? You’re one of us now.”
Holly wiped a tear-streaked cheek. "Thank you."
"Get on in there," said Kaylee.
Tommy sat back in his chair. He'd just helped senior Jen Wyffels with her pre-calculus and was making notes so he could talk to her teacher, Mrs. Walsh, about the unit they were working on (circles) and how she'd like him to approach the topic, when he glanced up at the clock over the door.
It was 11:30. Yesterday he'd warned John Christensen to retire by 4 PM or face a "darkness you can't possibly imagine." The same John Christensen who had marched through the front doors this morning to his office, where he slammed the door closed.
"So be it," Tommy said under his breath, shaking his head as he watched that door close. "So be it."
He expected Olander or Hicks or Helwick—hell, maybe even Kolstoe—to confront him this morning, perhaps with the sheriff in tow, but it hadn't happened. No security guard getting in his face; no cops; nothing. Christensen had slunk away like the maggot shit he was and hadn't told anybody about the confrontation.
He went to glance down at his notes once more when the door opened. He expected it to be Colin, who usually came in before lunch to get help on his homework and hang out, but it wasn't. It was three girls he didn't know, all tall, likely seniors. All with serious expressions on their faces.
"Hi," said Kaylee, taking the lead. "I'm Kaylee. This is Roseanne; that's Devin."
Roseanne and Devin both nodded, quiet.
"What's up?" asked Tommy, sensing that something was wrong.
"Your girl got attacked this morning," said Kaylee.
Tommy scowled. "Holly?"
They nodded.
"What happened?"
"In the bathroom," Kaylee told him. "Some chick named Erica Corbett. Your girl got punched in the eye pretty good. Corbett also kicked her in the stomach and back a few times before we got there."
Tommy listened, taking it all in with a darkening stare. "Where is she?"
"Nurse's office," said Roseanne. "She's okay. Shaken up. Scared. Probably pretty sore. She's got a serious shiner."
"Why was she attacked?" (He strongly suspected the answer; he just wanted to make sure it wasn’t Holly who was the aggressor.)
Kaylee shrugged while the other two looked on. "I didn't really hear the exchange before it all went down, but I don’t think it’s hard to guess."
Tommy stood. "Thanks for the heads-up."
Kaylee said, "We really admire her. She's got some fire in her belly. We’d like your permission to join you and her on the bus to Crescent City next week. We want to cheer her on, give her some home-grown encouragement. Is that cool with you?"
"Seriously?" asked a surprised Tommy. He smiled. "That's perfect. I'd love it if you joined us."
Kaylee grinned. "Might be true, but ol' Holly there, she's all shy and doesn't want anyone to see her. We want to get you in on this before she gets even more jacked up."
"Consider me in on the conspiracy," said Tommy. "And thank you, girls. That's really top shelf of you."
Kaylee nodded. She turned to leave, as did the others. At the door she turned back.
"That eye of hers ... I doubt she'll be able to swim today with it lookin' like it does. Fair warning."
Tommy nodded. "I'm sure. Thanks again for all you've done, you three."
With that, they left.
Holly walked in just before seventh period started. Tommy stood when she came in. She closed the door behind her. There were no other students in here; three junior boys, studying AP Calculus, had just left.
Her eye was gruesome. She also had a cut on that cheek too, and a small welt on her forehead.
He went to her. “Look at you.”
He expected waterworks. He didn’t get them. She said: “I don’t know if I can swim today. I can’t wear goggles.”
“I’m surprised you’re even here,” he said, not being surprised at all given what he strongly suspected was her nightmarish home life.
She shrugged. “Where else would I be?”
“You hungry?”
She shook her head.
"I'd like to take a look at your eye. Can I?"
She shrugged again and sat after dropping her backpack on the floor.
He bent over her, studying the injury. Her eyelid was a big, puffy, discolored ball with a slit and a small cut by the eyebrow. “Wow,” he said. “You could have a concussion," he said. "Did you go to the hospital?"
"They were going to call my dad. I said no."
"No nausea? Lightheadedness?"
She shook her head again. "I want to swim."
He smiled. "That's what I want to hear. How about we don't swim laps today, but do something else instead? Something that’ll be just as tough. Something I think you’ll like a lot and will keep your head out of the water most of the time.”
"What?" she asked.
He smiled.
"OH MY GOD!" Holly laughed, wiping water from her eyes, being careful with the gruesome-looking one. "That's so easy for you to say!"
Tommy, treading water not far away, responded, "Then steal the ball!"
They were in the deep end practicing water polo—a first for Holly and Colin. Holly wasn't as good as Colin, who had a surprisingly strong passing arm and could tread water like he’d spent hours in the ocean. But she was learning, and quickly, and was faster than him to the ball.
She was having fun, laughing, yelling, getting pissed when she lost the ball or Colin scored.
She had the ball now, and flipped it in a panicked manner towards the empty goal as Colin swam furiously towards her. For the purposes of the lesson (since the goal was empty), it only counted as a goal if it struck the back of the net.
It struck dead center against it, plopping back into the water.
"Yay!" yelled Tommy, retrieving it. "Dang! Fast! Colin, you're on offense now; Holly, defend him. Go!"
Colin took the ball after Tommy passed it to him. Holly, treading water, tried to get up into his face.
"You're not getting past me, hotshot!"
He tried to swim around her; Holly actually backstroked to parallel him, keeping up. Tommy, impressed, made a mental note as Colin found himself once again facing her.
“Shit!” he yelled, then tried to fake a pass to Tommy. It almost worked, but Holly was too quick and batted the ball away, then swam after it.
Tommy watched as she gathered it, spun, and heaved it wildly at the goal. The ball flew over the net completely, bouncing against the wall and into the net’s rear, where it sat, unmoving.
"Ha!" Colin, who was ahead by two goals, teased, "No goal!"
"Bite me!" said Holly, swimming enthusiastically to the edge of the pool and climbing out, where she ran to the ball and threw it to Tommy before jumping back in. If her swollen eye was bothering her, she wasn't showing it.
Tommy could see the difference in her in just five short days, from her attitude to her strength. The backstroke he’d just seen her do was almost surprising in its technical grace.
He said, “Let’s form a big triangle and throw the ball to each other as fast as we can. Try to get it right to the person’s hand. It’s much tougher than you might think it is!”
Holly had been dunking Colin, who was surfacing and dunking her back. Both were sputtering and cursing at each other between laughs. After splashing each other (“Loser!” “Butthole!”) they separated and spread out wide. Tommy, with the ball, tossed it to Holly.
She struggled to get her hand under it; she threw it at Colin, but not nearly far enough, forcing him to swim to it.
"Coach!" she called. "I'm getting really tired!"
"Me too!" Colin echoed.
"Water polo athletes are some of the best conditioned athletes on the planet," Tommy said. "A few more minutes. Hang in there!"
The talking stopped as Holly and Colin focused on passing. They were clearly winded. Finally Tommy, treading also, said, "All right! Well done! Let's stop for now. Holly—stay here for a minute, would you?”
Colin, walking towards the boys’ locker room after climbing out, called, “See you Monday, Tommy!”
“Have a good weekend, dude,” Tommy called back.
Tommy pulled himself out and sat next to Holly, whose legs dangled in the water.
“That was fun,” she said. “And really hard.”
“Glad you liked it,” he said. He studied her. “Next Tuesday is Crescent City.”
She nodded. “So not looking forward to it.”
“I’m thinking the hundred back and the fifty free. Two events, and two relays.”
She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Relays take four people! I’m the only one on the team!”
Tommy shook his head. “No, you’re not. Colin is the manager; I’m the coach. We’re going to swim on the relays. I’ll swim twice. Or Colin.”
“Isn’t that illegal or something?” she asked. It was clear that she was conflicted: first with fear, but the second with something that looked like amused fascination.
“Oh, yeah,” said Tommy. “Totally. Like I care. Neither should you. So … the hundred back and fifty free? Sound good?”
“As long as they aren’t, like back-to-back or something.”
He smiled. “They aren’t.” He playfully nudged her shoulder with his own. “Hear you’ve got a fan club.”
Her reaction was immediate: embarrassment. “Oh my god …”
“I think it’s great,” he said with another playful nudge.
"They got me this morning when I got jumped. I thought I was alone ... like always ... and then ... there they were."
"Like guardian angels," he said quietly.
She smiled reluctantly. "Yeah ... I suppose."
"You suppose? You suppose? Do you have any idea how many people would die for a fan club?"
"Fine ..." she said with a sigh.
"I guess that'll have to do for now," he said. "I see I've got some serious work ahead on that low self-esteem of yours. Go on, hit the showers. I'll see you Monday. Take care of that eye."
She got up began to walk away.
Tommy’s face darkened. Because it was then he noticed bruises on the backs of her thighs just under her butt. Bruises that almost certainly didn’t come from Erica Corbett.
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