by Doty, M.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m glad Dom’s not here.”
“Of course she’s not,” said Kimi from a few feet over. “She’s at the Junior Nationals.”
Cringe. Thanks for nothing, Kimi.
Ben took a step away from Emily and looked her in the eye.
“What’s she talking about?”
“It’s Junior Nationals today—but I decided I’d rather be here.”
“So you don’t want to be there?”
“No,” she said. “I mean yes. I guess so. But not as much as I want to be here.”
“Emily—” He didn’t take his eyes off her once. “You’re incredibly sweet, skipping that for me. But I—I couldn’t live with myself if I let you throw away everything you’ve been working so hard for, just for my sake.”
“Well, it’s not just for you. This is about me being able to make my own choices, even if it means occasionally sacrificing something I want.”
He kept looking into her eyes as if trying to read her mind.
“What time are you scheduled to swim?”
“My first race is at eight.”
“It’s seven-oh-four right now,” said Kimi. “And the meet is over in Las Playas. That’s an hour away.”
Ben looked around the dance and nodded.
“You know, I told you this dance was going to be lame,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “I say we bail and take a little road trip.”
“But you just said you never wanted to leave!”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”
“You’d really leave early like this, for me?”
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I’ve thrown better parties in my sleep. Literally. I’ve gone to sleep in the middle of lots of my parties.”
“You know, I’ve always wanted to go to Las Playas,” said Kimi.
“And where she goes, I go,” said Kevin. “Who knows when she’ll mark a whole bunch of demerits in my cons column and dump me for someone better?”
“Jerk. You know I stopped doing that!”
“Emily,” said Ben, “what do you say? It’s up to you. Feel like a swim?”
For a moment, Emily imagined seven girls standing up on blocks at the side of the pool while the center lane—her lane—was left vacant. She imagined Dominique swimming out ahead of everyone else and smiling triumphantly as she won the race. She imagined all the names on the leaderboard disappearing, replaced with Dominique’s. Emily tightened her hands into fists.
“Let’s do this.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” said Ben. “You have exactly two minutes to grab your stuff from your locker and meet me at the front door. You’ve got a race to win.”
Fifteen minutes later, Emily was naked under a blanket in the back of Ben’s car. Okay, it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. In order to change, she’d had to strip off her homecoming dress in transit, and was now slipping on her swimsuit. Kimi sat in the back with her, holding the blanket over her and making sure the guys didn’t peek.
The funny thing was, Emily barely felt embarrassed. In just a few weeks, she’d come a long way from worrying about Dominique’s teasing in the locker room.
“After all the time we spent picking out that dress,” said Kimi sadly.
“Could you hand me my swim cap?” asked Emily from under the blanket.
“Your hair! Your curls! We didn’t even take a picture.”
“It’s like you said at the start of the year. The winter formal isn’t too far away. And then there’s prom after that.”
“Oooh. Good point! I’ve already got some ideas for your hair next time. What would you say to a Snooki-style pouf?”
“Um, we’ll talk about it,” said Emily as she stuffed her carefully done hair under her swim cap.
“Shouldn’t you be going a little faster?” Kevin asked Ben in the front seat. “You’re doing exactly the speed limit.”
“I’m just playing it safe,” said Ben.
“Yeah,” said Kevin. “But according to the map on my phone, that means we’re going to get there at eight-oh-two.”
“He’s got a point, Ben,” said Emily. “Just a few miles over the speed limit wouldn’t hurt.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She pulled the blanket aside and saw his smile in the rearview mirror.
“One or two miles over the limit wouldn’t hurt.”
At exactly seven fifty-seven, the car reached the Las Playas Country Club pool, and Emily and Kimi hopped out. The guys would park the car and meet them inside.
“Good luck in there!” shouted Ben as Emily ran for the door.
A minute and a half later, the girls entered the main swimming facility, where hundreds of fans sat on the bleachers, looking down at dozens of the best swimmers from around the country.
Where the Spartan Academy swimming facility had been sleek and ultramodern, Las Playas was classical, the pools shining sparkling white and lined with marble. The surrounding stands were laid out in a gigantic circle, like the Colosseum, around pools arranged in a four-square formation. Walking in, Emily felt like a gladiator. A gladiator who had shown up just in the nick of time.
“Emily!” Before she even saw him, her dad was picking her up in a huge bear hug. “I knew you’d come!”
“You did? Because I just realized it about fifty-eight minutes ago.”
“Better late than never,” he said. “Or maybe better on time than late? Anyway, the point is, the first race is about to start. You’ve got the fifty-meter backstroke in pool three. The meet is running about five minutes behind schedule, so you should have just enough time to stretch out.”
She had to start with the 50-meter backstroke? In which Dominique now held the national record? Perfect, she thought. At least this way I can get my first loss out of the way early.
“What’s with the frown?” asked Ben, winded from sprinting in from the parking lot. “Should I not have brought you?”
“I’m just not looking forward to losing this one.”
“So don’t lose. I was there at the match against Wilson when you beat Dominique in every race. Who says you can’t do it again?”
“She’s better now than she was then.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “So are you.”
“It’s true, Em!” said Kimi. “You were pushing yourself way too hard for months. You were exhausted when she beat you. Now you’ve actually caught up on sleep.”
“All fifty-meter backstroke participants, please report to pool three!” boomed a voice from overhead.
“You’ve got this, Emily,” said Ben. “You can do it.”
“Kick her pretty blond butt!” shouted Kimi.
Her dad gave her a silent nod.
Emily saw Dominique before Dominique saw her. She clung to the edge of the pool, her goggles already fastened, chanting her victory mantra. She didn’t break out of her trance until Emily splashed down in the lane next to her.
“Kessler?” she asked, her concentration clearly broken. “Are you wearing makeup?”
Emily touched her hand to her face, then looked at her fingertips and found them covered in running mascara.
“Consider it war paint,” she said.
“I heard you weren’t coming.”
“You heard wrong.”
“Not that it matters,” said Dominique. “You’re yesterday’s news anyway. Or haven’t you heard? Swimmer’s Monthly is doing a follow-up article, all about me. Apparently they just weren’t interested in you anymore.”
Emily fastened her goggles. “Then I’ll have to give them something to write about.” Emily clutched the underside of her starting block, and as she lifted her body slightly above the water, it felt almost weightless. She concentrated everything on the echoing voices above her as she waited for the sound of the starting horn.
When it blared, she was ready. She pushed off the wall and immediately went into her stroke. Nothing in her body hurt this time, and the movement felt
effortless. Before she even knew it, she’d reached the far wall and was starting her turn. As she pushed off again, she caught a glimpse of Dominique to her left. They were dead even.
She reached back now with everything she had. On her periphery, she could sense Dominique matching her stroke for stroke. And then, just as they were about to reach the wall, Emily felt as if a pair of unseen hands were pushing her forward, helping to carry her those last few feet.
Maybe it was just her imagination, and she would never tell anyone about it, but in that moment she opened her eyes and saw her sister’s face. She was about to say Sara’s name when she felt her fingers touch the wall.
She tore off her goggles and looked up at the times on the leaderboard. She saw Dominique’s time first: 28.0 seconds, just like last time. Dominique had matched her own national record.
Except that it wasn’t a national record anymore. A few inches up, next to Emily’s name, was the number 27.9.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” echoed the announcer’s voice. “For the second time in just a little more than two weeks, we have a new national record. Congratulations to Emily Kessler!”
As Emily pulled herself from the pool, her dad ran over to wrap her in a towel and give her a congratulatory hug. All around them, camera flashes erupted from the bleachers, capturing her triumph. The night was far from over—there would be a lot more races to come. But in this moment, she had won, and for the first time in years, she smiled for the cameras.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to the Surviving High School writing team, who provided invaluable feedback through the creative process: Eric Dean, Royal McGraw, Andrew Shvarts, and Jennifer Young.
Thanks also to everyone at Electronic Arts who believed in this book and helped make it happen, especially Rob Simpson, Pat O’Brien, and Oliver Miao.
I’m very grateful, also, to our team at Little, Brown: Erin Stein, Pam Gruber, and Mara Lander. Thanks for all your hard work on behalf of our book!
Finally, thanks most of all to Kara Loo, writing team leader, editor, and fiancée extraordinaire.
Don’t miss the second book in the Surviving High School series,
Tired of playing the sidekick to her swimming-superstar best friend, Kimi Chen feels it’s time to step into the spotlight and secure her own place at the coveted center table of the cafeteria. But when a low-budget music video she made hits the Web and goes viral, forget about being just popular–Kimi is famous! Boys want to date her, girls want to be her, and she is even asked to perform on her favorite television show. Things are finally looking up! What could possibly go wrong?
Find out how Kimi’s stars align
May 2013.
Contents
WELCOME
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A PREVIEW OF HOW TO BE A STAR
COPYRIGHT
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Electronic Arts
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ISBN 978-0-316-22016-3