When you wanted to win, you had to keep your eyes firmly on the prize regardless of what it cost.
Chapter Two
1986 World Aquatic Championships - Madrid
Hannah pushed her tray along the silver countertop. The line moved sluggishly as athletes agonized over what to put on their plates. Most of them were probably being haunted by the voices of their nutritionists right now or imagining being pinched with skinfold tests.
She eyed the piles of fish, rice, salad, vegetables, bread, and steaks. Though the dining hall was set up like a school cafeteria, the food rivaled what you’d find at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
When she reached the front of the line, she heaped steamed vegetables and skinless chicken on her plate. As she scanned the room for an empty table, there was a tap on her shoulder. A girl with light brown hair in a white T-shirt with a large Adidas logo on the front looked back at her. They had seen one another around, but Hannah didn’t know this girl’s name.
She took her headphones off and rested them around her neck, to acknowledge the girl.
“Hey! I’m Angie. Want to sit together?”
“Hannah. Um…sure?”
She trailed behind Angie, who walked purposefully to a table in the corner. She could tell by Angie’s accent that she was American. Hannah wasn’t sure why someone from another team was talking to her. Was this girl trying to psych her out?
She slid into the bench seat opposite Angie and turned her music off. There was a Walkman clipped to the waistband of her jeans, and she’d been able to hear tinny music from the headphones while she walked.
“What are you listening to?” Angie said, cutting into a slab of rare steak, pink flesh opening under her knife.
“Joy Division.”
“Cool. So, I thought it would be fun to hang out together, you know seeing as we’re probably the youngest swimmers here?”
“How old are you?” Hannah replied.
“Fifteen. You’re fourteen, right? Coach told me.”
“Uh-huh.”
Hannah would have pegged her for older than fifteen. With that clear skin and her even, white teeth, Angie would fit in on one of those American TV shows where everyone looked perfect and shiny, like Growing Pains or Family Ties.
“It’s weird being so far away from home, isn’t it? My folks are staying at a hotel. Are yours here too?”
Hannah shook her head. Her mother and Paul wanted to come, but the overseas travel was too expensive. She told them not to worry because she’d be so busy with the competition anyway. Since being here, she missed her parents more than she’d imagined she would. It wasn’t like being at a sleepover; she couldn’t call them to collect her when she grew homesick.
“You won the semifinal in the two hundred today, didn’t you?” Angie said.
“I did, yeah.”
“You shooting for Seoul? Like, I mean, you want to compete at the Olympics, don’t you?”
“Sure, I’ll see how it goes.”
It was what everyone expected of her, but it was almost two years away. “Do you want to go?”
“Of course! I love your accent, by the way. It’s so cool.”
“Thanks,” she said, although she’d never even thought of herself as having an accent.
In the same instant they each turned to a table behind them. A group of swimmers from the Australian team chanted Tony’s name, getting louder with every repetition. A couple of the boys slapped their hands down on the table in time with the sound.
“Who the hell is Tony?” Angie asked.
“The one with the red hair and freckles.”
“Oh. Why are they doing that?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Are they teasing him about something?”
Tony was standing now, laughing with his shorts slung low around his waist. This morning at breakfast Hannah caught him staring at her chest and whispering in Greg’s ear. Greg was quiet, but Tony never stopped talking, mainly to brag about his endorsements and interview requests. Greg and Tony were both seventeen and joined at the hip.
“I guess so. The team is always teasing someone about something. Or they probably gave him a dare or whatever.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “It’s the same with my team. I get so sick of the team spirit, rah rah, rah. It’s annoying.”
“It bothers you too?”
“Of course. And I get so tired of being treated like a kid. They’re not that much older than me.”
“Same here.”
Most of her teammates had been swimming seriously for years, and some of them had already been to the Olympics. Whenever she won a race, she braced herself for the subtle frostiness that came her way. Nobody had explained it to her, but she supposed she hadn’t paid her dues or earned her place.
“You know, I don’t see why I should be friends with people just because they’re from the same country as me. Sometimes people from other teams are just as nice,” Angie said.
Eyes met across the table as they smiled. Angie’s green eyes were pretty, framed by long lashes.
Hannah shrugged. “Maybe we could eat together again tomorrow. If you wanted to, I mean.”
“Sure. We could do that. Right after I whip you,” Angie said.
“What?”
“I won my semifinal too. I’m racing you tomorrow morning.”
“Oh.”
It was over before it had begun. Even if she didn’t beat Angie, competing against one another would make it weird.
Angie kicked her leg under the table. “Don’t look so worried! It’s not a problem. I know you’ll beat me, but I don’t mind.”
“Maybe I won’t?”
“I bet you will. If you win, I get to make you eat whatever I want when we have dinner tomorrow night. It’s like a dare.”
“Why would I want to win if I have to eat something gross?” Hannah said. With anyone else, she’d assume they were laying a trap, but Angie’s dancing eyes made her sure that everything was okay.
“It’ll make the loser feel better. If I place before you, you can make me eat whatever you want. For the record, I don’t like tomato, ugh,” Angie said, the point of her tongue sticking out. “So, if you wanted to mess with me, that’s what you can pick. Now your turn.”
“I don’t eat red meat. I’d be vegetarian if I could, but my nutritionist says it’s a bad idea for me right now. I wouldn’t get enough fuel or something.”
Angie leaned over to slap her arm. “I’m not going to make you eat a steak! Jeez, what do you think I am? Pick something less mean.”
“All right…I guess I don’t like broccoli?”
“Thanks for the tip,” Angie said, and they shook on it.
The following morning Hannah’s pulse hammered as she entered the marshaling area. The crowd bore down on her, bigger than it was for semifinals. The high stakes made her breath catch in her throat.
Her gaze fell on Angie, who was staring back at her and wiggling her eyebrows. How could she joke around at a time like this?
They entered the pool deck, Hannah averting her eyes from the bleachers and cameras. It was always so strange to stand in front of a crowd in her bathers. Sometimes she felt like her body wasn’t her own. It belonged to her coach, her trainer, and anyone else who wanted a piece of it. She’d shot up over the past year. She was taller than a lot of the boys now, and her shoulders were broader than a lot of girls’.
The thought of the dare almost made her smile. She hoped that either she or Angie would win so they could have fun at dinner. Maybe she should have suggested something to do if neither of them placed. She was still thinking about it when the gun went off, and then she was in the water.
The last two years boiled down to the stroke of her arms and her hands slicing through the water. All the kilometers she’d swum before and after school, struggling along in a weighted vest. The time spent at the gym working on strengthening her core, endless advice from nutritionists, race strategy talk so dull it made her
eyes glaze over.
When she started swimming it had been just for fun. In increments, she’d discovered that when it came to this, she was special. She loved being in the water, but she didn’t like that people treated her differently because of it.
Her turn wasn’t as graceful as she wanted it to be, but she gained some ground in the second lap. She was almost a full body length ahead of the swimmer beside her. The next time she turned it was perfect, and she drove harder, giving all that she had. She forgot about everything, the dare far from her mind for the first time since the night before.
She knew she’d won before she touched the wall. She sought out Angie, breathing hard a couple of lanes away. Angie’s expression betrayed only a hint of disappointment at coming in second, and then she smiled. When they were out of the water, Angie gave her a quick hug, her arms slick around Hannah’s shoulders.
On the dais, they faced straight ahead in their sweatpants and zipped up coats, Hannah’s arms pressed against her sides. It was her first gold, and she wondered if her parents would put it on top of the bookshelf with her brothers’ football trophies. Over the past few years, she’d amassed a pile of ribbons and trophies. She liked that her parents didn’t act like she was special; she was the same as her siblings in their eyes.
When the national anthem played she pulled her arms more tightly against herself, trying not to scratch her face or fidget.
“I hope I can find some little trees for you tonight,” Angie cracked as they stepped down from the dais.
Later, Hannah stared at the picture that was taken immediately after Angie said that. Only she knew that the mile-wide grin spread across her face was because of something other than winning.
Hannah had never been involved in a press conference this big. She was seated at a long table, set up in front of rows of chairs. She was a rabbit caught in the headlights, frozen in front of the cameramen clustered in the back of the room. She tried to swallow, and Angie pushed a glass of water toward her. The moment of eye contact they shared steadied her.
A young reporter with a shaved head asked the first question, and his peers burst into laughter. Hannah looked toward the translator, jogging her leg while she waited to understand.
“How do you have time for all the things teenage girls usually like, such as boys and clothes?”
Hannah took another sip of water. She cut her gaze across to Angie, who was sitting back from her microphone, letting Hannah go first.
“The most important things to me are swimming and school. Everything else comes second,” Hannah said.
The man who’d asked the question nodded politely. Angie finally bent her head toward the microphone. “But we’re both good multi-taskers. Training is important, but I’d go nuts if I couldn’t go shopping once in a while.”
The audience laughed again. For the rest of the press conference, Hannah let Angie go first unless the question was explicitly addressed to her. When they were done and being ushered away from the press room by an official, she leaned toward Angie.
“You’re so much better at this part than I am.”
“Not even,” Angie said. “You’re all cool and quiet; it makes you seem mysterious. My folks made me go to this silly media training thing. I’ll give you tips if you want, but who cares?”
“Right,” Hannah said. Her coach had sent her to media training too, but the lessons were forgotten as soon as she was in front of a crowd.
“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Angie asked, looping their arms together.
“Yep,” Hannah said. It wasn’t fair that they only had one more night to get to know one another.
“Well then, I dare you to stay up hanging out with me all night.”
“You’re on.”
Chapter Three
2000 - Sydney
Hannah threw back the covers and checked the clock on the nightstand. The red numbers told her that it was nine thirty. There was no point going to bed early if she was going to lie here torturing herself, instead of falling into her typical exhausted sleep.
The ocean was a ten-minute walk away. The sound of crashing waves was one of the many things she loved about staying in Bondi. The thought of being close to the water comforted her, so she got up and pulled on jeans that were crumpled up next to the bed, with a blue T-shirt. She slid her feet into the flip-flops she kept beside the front door, still sandy from an earlier trip along the shoreline.
It was a relief that here, she could come and go without anyone noticing her. The one-bedroom apartment was Debbie’s, a friend who was on an overseas business trip. There was stiff competition to secure time at her place; Hannah wasn’t the only person with a key. It was cozy and light, large windows lining the curved wall of the living room.
The streets were busy, people wandering around or dining at outdoor tables in the balmy night air. Nobody recognized her as she passed by with her hands stuck in her pockets, her head stooped. She dropped into a late-night café to pick up takeaway hot chocolate, then carried the warm cardboard cup to the beach.
She sat on a wooden bench that gave her a panoramic view of the dark waves. She watched them, finally allowing herself to think about what had kept her awake. Now that she’d attained her goal, her mantra was transformed. All she could think about was Angie slipping her that card after the trial. When Hannah arrived back at Debbie’s apartment, she carelessly threw it on the coffee table to prove to herself that she wasn’t going to use it.
Now, the mantra was that she needed to see Angie. She had to see her. It was hard to pin down exactly what she wanted to get out of meeting with her, but now that the opportunity had presented itself, she was going to grab it with both hands.
She jumped up from the bench and walked away from the shore. Debbie wouldn’t mind if she used her computer. When Hannah was back in the apartment, she booted it up and logged into her email account. Good old-fashioned paper mail was better, the licking of stamps and the movement of a pen across the page. Still, she had to admit that email had its benefits. The speed of it meant she might even be able to see Angie before going back to Melbourne. She pecked at the keyboard with two fingers, trying to strike the right tone.
Hi Angie. It turns out my plans have changed, and I have tomorrow morning free if you see this in time. I thought it might be good to meet like you suggested. I’m staying at a friend’s apartment in Bondi. Maybe you could come over here for a cup of coffee or something around 11?
She switched to the Internet browser and opened a window, searching Angie’s name. Now that she’d pried open the lid from Pandora’s box, she couldn’t stop herself. A page with pictures from a recent event loaded. There was Angie, her toned shoulders and smooth skin revealed in her red dress. When Hannah found herself staring at Angie’s low neckline, she rushed to close the window.
She was moving the mouse to log out of her email account when she saw that Angie had already replied.
Sounds great! I’m free whenever! It’s so cool that you’re staying here too. I wonder if you’re close by. That would be funny. Send me your address and the time you can see me, and I’ll be there. It’s been so lovely to see you again. I’ve missed you. - A.
She pushed her finger down hard on the mouse. If Angie missed her, whose fault was that? She took a deep breath before composing a reply.
The next morning she checked the shelves in Debbie’s pantry, finding only corn flakes and a package of noodles. There was a market across the street, so she crossed over to gather supplies. At the checkout she unloaded two types of coffee, fruit, a package of crackers, hummus, celery, and carrot.
When she got back to the apartment she sliced watermelon into wedges and rinsed grapes. She fluffed the cushions on the sofa and paced around until there was a knock at the door.
Angie stood in the doorway, casual in a denim skirt with a white button-up shirt. She wore brown leather sandals, which showed her black toenails that matched her manicure.
“Hey,” Hannah said, eyeing the bouque
t of roses Angie held in front of her.
“Hello,” Angie said. “I wanted to congratulate you.”
“Oh. Thank you,” she replied, taking the bundle from her. “I guess I’ll find somewhere to put these. Come in.”
Hannah stuffed the bunch into a large water glass. Angie was tilting her head, taking in a photograph of Debbie with her parents’ German shepherd on the mantelpiece.
“Can I get you some coffee?” Hannah asked, brushing stray hair behind her ear. She’d tied it half-back and applied makeup, but she’d worn only jeans and a white T-shirt. Like throwing the card on the coffee table, it was a useless gesture. A way of trying to fool herself into believing that she didn’t care for Angie’s opinion of how she looked.
“That would be great. Thanks. This is a really nice place, super nice. I love the windows; they give such a great view. It was close like I thought it might be, just around the corner from my hotel if you can believe it. I really like this area. I went for a walk to the beach this morning. I even saw the sunrise. I didn’t get into the water, but it was nice to see the surfers and everything. Those waves are really something else. So…How long are you staying?”
“I fly out early tomorrow morning.”
“Oh,” Angie said. She glanced at the roses, which were dropping their petals onto the table.
“What about you?” Hannah said, taking two mugs from where they hung on hooks above the countertop. “Help yourself to some fruit if you want.”
Angie walked over to the table where Hannah had laid a platter. She snapped some grapes from their cluster, her stare darting around the apartment.
“I’ll be staying here another few days. I haven’t spent much time in Sydney, so I’m looking forward to checking the place out. I was thinking I’d go to the opera house tomorrow, see the bridge and all that stuff. Someone told me I should take a ferry as well. Whose place is this?” she asked, the words bursting forth quickly.
“It’s my friend Debbie’s. She’s letting me stay here while I’m in town. She’s in Japan right now for work. You probably don’t remember but you met her once.”
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