Stopped Cold

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Stopped Cold Page 16

by Pallotta, Gail;


  Tammy patted me on the back. “You are Maggie Butterfly.”

  I smiled. “I hope I won’t disappoint the team.” Or Dad.

  Tammy sat on the bench and put her bag in her lap, laying her arms across it. “Before an event I go over the race in my mind. I visualize myself diving, sprinting down the pool, turning at the wall, and finishing. That way, I stay focused.”

  “Thanks, I’ll try that.”

  Tammy stood and each of us stepped into a changing stall.

  My suit lay inside my athletic bag near the top. Going to the state meet meant so much. Dad would be able to discuss the trip, my competition, and the challenge I faced. He could act like Dad. Sean must feel as though his relationship with Dad suffered when Dad realized Sean would never play football again. Dad did a great job of covering up his disappointment and praising Sean for his accomplishments, but deep down we all knew Dad needed a winner.

  My going to state would focus that need to me. I ran my forefinger over each embroidered letter in the word Sharks stitched on my suit then tugged it on and walked out the doorway.

  Mom rushed over and gave me a big hug. “I know you will do your best, honey.” Mom never would put pressure on me, but I suspected she knew the significance of a family trip to the state meet.

  Dad stared at me with his mouth puckered as though words he wanted to speak choked him. He swallowed. “You know your mom, Sean, and I will be pulling for you.”

  I nodded. Ordinarily Dad would have been telling me to get out there and show ‘em what a McWhorter was made of. He’d give me last minute instructions on getting a quick turn and pulling and kicking hard. With everything that had happened, he apparently felt he couldn’t let his strong competitive spirit show. Hearing his matter-of-fact tone that made it sound as though this meet was no more than a lazy afternoon dip in a pool wasn’t good for any of us.

  “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.”

  Tammy stuck her head around the doorway leading to the pool. “There you are. Maggie Butterfly, warm up’s starting right now.”

  “OK.”

  I tore out to the pool deck, and Jay gave me a high-five. “Good luck today. We want you to go to state with us.”

  My nerves felt as if someone ran a wire dish scrubber over them, but I forced a smile. “Thanks, Jay.”

  Coach Lohrens hollered out. “Sharks girls, line up in lane three; guys, in lane four.”

  One at a time my teammates jumped in and swam freestyle for warm-up. I joined them and swam as fast as I could to release some of my anxiety. Then I put in a few laps of butterfly.

  Coach blew his whistle, and one by one, we hoisted ourselves out of the water. We meandered about the pool deck, passing each other coming and going. The jitters overtook me as I sat on the bleachers behind the starting blocks. The meet would start soon.

  Many of my teammates dropped down on quilts spread on the floor next to the walls. Some swimmers sat Indian style while others lay with their heads resting on a friend’s outstretched legs. Electronic tablets, cell phones, and crossword puzzles soon cluttered the quilts. The rest of the Sharks appeared calm while my insides raced.

  “Event number one. Women’s two hundred medley relay, on the blocks.”

  A shiver ran up my spine. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I marched to lane four to join Tammy, Mindy, and Lou, all fast swimmers.

  Lou, our backstroker, hopped into the water then winked at me. “We’re going to swim the fastest we ever have. This relay’s going to state, and you’re going with it.”

  “That’s right.” Mindy, our breaststroker, put her hand on one of my shoulders.

  Tammy touched the other. “You do the best you can, and we’ll take care of the rest. Charlotte, here we come.”

  The starter blew the whistle. By the time the shrill ripple silenced, Lou kicked down the pool, her arms rotating the fastest I’d ever seen. What a flip turn! She pulled hard coming back. The instant her fingertips touched the wall Mindy shot into the pool, her dive taking her a quarter of the way down the lane.

  Tammy tapped me on the back, and I turned around. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it home. We’re going to state.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes, but a fire burned in my gut. I flew off the blocks in my fastest dive ever. Pull, pull, kick, kick, the words filled my mind as I charged down the pool. Do your part. Show them you won’t let them down at state. The words echoed in my head amid the roar of cheers wafting over me. Water splashed all around my body. I turned, pulled, and kicked to the wall, reaching out, grazing it with my fingertips. I watched Tammy dive over the top of me then grabbed hold of the handles on the starting block and hoisted myself out of the pool.

  Mindy and Lou hugged me.

  Mindy took off her cap and ran her hand through her hair, water dripping from it. “I think we did it. Tammy’s so fast.”

  I peered at the racers. So much water flew around Tammy I could barely see her body, let alone her touch. She pulled herself out of the pool taking deep breaths. “What was—what was—”

  Lou glanced at the clock. “1:49:60—some to spare.”

  Happiness and the love of my friends showered me like stars falling from the sky. Joy surged through my bones. I gazed in the stands.

  Dad stood, clapping.

  My shoulders grew lighter as some of the pressure to make the state team lifted. But to be a real winner in Dad’s eyes, I needed to qualify on my own. I plopped down on the bottom bleacher in the stands to settle myself, the scent of chlorine wafting around me.

  Swimmers wandered the pool deck watching the meet and talking to their buddies or sitting together in a corner.

  Cheers and chattering echoed all around me. Twisting the strap on my goggles, I moved to the bleacher near the starting blocks with my heart in my throat. The announcer would call out women’s one-hundred-yard butterfly as soon as the men quit diving.

  Mom, Dad, and Sean smiled and waved. Emily and Jimmy sat next to them. Jimmy gave me a thumbs up.

  Tammy walked by. What did she recommend? Oh, yes. I wiggled my feet in my pool shoes as I visualized my race in my mind’s eye.

  “Event number eleven, one hundred yards butterfly, heat number one on the blocks.” The announcer’s words boomed in my head.

  It was happening. I rose, stood at lane five, and gazed into the bleachers while I waited for my turn. Emily and Jimmy stared at me with intense looks as though they knew I yearned to get life back to normal, even though I’d never told them.

  So many times, I’d said to myself, “Everything will be fine if I can just go to state.” Dad could tell all his buddies at work about it. He could reminisce about it at home, and for the rest of the year all of us could talk about my qualifying swim and the great time we had in Charlotte.

  Sean could finish his senior year with little to no stress, go off to college, and begin a wonderful, extraordinary new life with good memories of home.

  Mom and Dad sat on the bleachers, leaning toward the pool with their eyes wide. Were they rooting for me to be all right as much as they were for me to win?

  Coach Lohrens pushed me so hard in training, but maybe it would pay off now. I was thankful God gave me the ability to swim butterfly. My stroke wasn’t the fastest in the world, or even the state, but right now, it enriched life for my family and me.

  The butterfly swimmers from heat number one pulled out of the pool, and the loud speaker blared. “Event number eleven, one hundred yards butterfly, heat number two on the blocks.”

  I stepped up.

  The announcer called out, “Take your mark.”

  The whistle sounded.

  I sprang into my dive then kicked and pulled with all my might to the wall. Tapping it, I turned. With water flying around me I thrust my body forward to the other end. Touch, turn. Rotate the arms. Drive to the turn. Fountains of water splashed, drops falling on me as my body ached going into the last twenty-five yards. Faster. I had to go faster. Push to the finish. Push harder. Touch.


  Gasping for breath, shaking with anticipation, I waited in the water, watching for the numbers to flash on the clock. “Lane five, 57:25.”

  Tears wet my eyes while stars, flowers, and smiley faces swirled in my head. So much joy filled my heart it left no room for hate or anger. I pulled myself out of the pool. Where was the deck? Was I walking on air? I peered down. No. I was on cement. My teammates flocked around me, hugging me. Lou shouted, “You’re going to state in butterfly.”

  Jay yelled out, “Great job, Margaret.”

  Tammy hollered. “You’re way under the cut-off time.”

  The Barracudas stared at us until the starter called out, “Event number twelve—”

  Everyone wandered off.

  Grinning big, Sean stood on the pool deck beside the door. I hurried to him. He jabbed me with his right arm, his left still needing therapy. “You’re a better athlete than I’ll ever be.”

  They all congratulated me.

  But Sean was the big winner. He’d come clean and accepted the challenge Detective Garrett offered. “You get to pick where we celebrate.”

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