by Shawn Keys
He let out a long breath. Once sure he was thinking clearly, he met Cadence’s eyes. “Tell me you know what you’re saying. If we don’t report this, you don’t get justice. I can talk with Gordon. He might refuse to coach her. But her parents have the money to see she gets trained no matter what. You’ll probably see her again in competition.”
Cadence took her time answering. Consolidating what she wanted to say in as few words as possible. “Can… accept that.” A few deep breaths came before she went on. “If I can’t come back… we can say something. Get… get the doctor’s statement. Be ready with the evidence. But if I can… go on… nothing can stop that. Nothing!” She invested every ounce of conviction she could in that one final word.
MK took up the torch. “We can ask Azélie. Or maybe Evelyn. Figure out what we need to do. Hire a lawyer. I don’t know. But we make sure she can’t weasel out of this if Cadence can’t compete anymore.”
Daniel hung his head, surrendering to the inevitable. He had seen that look in Cadence’s eyes before. The look that said she wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. He fought his gaze back up to meet hers. “I can talk to Gordon. He’ll bury this if I ask him. Carla will follow his lead. But they would speak out for us if we asked. They wouldn’t let us down.”
Not bothering to speak, Cadence mimed a chopping motion of an axe.
Daniel growled. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I need this. Please, Daniel. Give me the… chance to come back. We can’t… leave this… to the bureaucrats. When has… that ever worked out?”
“I’m not going to make this about me. This is about you.”
“Then it’s… my risk to take.”
MK turned away… but didn’t say anything. Giving in.
Too damned smart. That’s what she is. Talked me right into that one. “Alright, Cadence. I’m with you on this. You’re a better person than I am. But… I don’t trust the bureaucracy either. If you want your shot, this is the only way to keep it. Killing Julie’s career isn’t worth killing your own.”
Cadence’s smile was pained but genuine. She simply nodded, not needing to say anything further.
Daniel smiled back, always ready to grant her another wish. The commission doesn’t deserve her. One month. If she isn’t running in a month, and if she misses her run at the Olympics, I’m exposing everything. I’m not going to let her martyr herself for nothing. Loyalty has to swing both ways. The commission cut me loose to save the future of their precious national pride. I’m not going to let them do that to her.
Chapter 11
“Here they come,” Matteo murmured.
Flora rubbed her palms together. “I can’t believe we’re here. Come on girls. You can do it.” She whispered it as more of a prayer, falling silent as she watched the small team parade around the side of the pool.
Matteo had to admit that the facility was amazing. Tirkaheizer had spared no expense with their new sports center, aiming to make it a regional hub for aquatics competitions. The scope of the events going on around them was equally impressive. This wasn’t a small scale, single sport arena. The center was built to house artistic, speed and long-distance swimming and multiple diving sports. They had even set up their own triathlon where the participants would bicycle around the facility’s velodrome, run on the treadmills and then finish with lengths in the pool.
The artistic swimming events were happening in an auxiliary pool nestled behind a decorated faux-rock wall with jungle-style vegetation ‘sprouting’ from it, sequestering them from the main arena and dulling down some of the crowd noise. It was an artful way to separate the pools without isolating them completely.
The number of events demanded multiple changing areas and ingress points. All of that had been accounted for when the facility was designed. As such, the tunnel out of which their team walked wasn’t crowded with participants from the rest of the competitions.
Laura was the shortest, so she came first, as she always did. Then the others followed in ascending height; Daphne next, then Melodie and finally Hélène. Laura set the pace as they walked, leading them single file.
They weren’t being assessed, yet. Arguably, they could have rambled out in a gaggle and not had any points deducted. But the team had listened to their coach, and Flora knew that psychology was part of the game. If the judges saw them acting in unison from the first moment that they saw them, the belief would be that they always acted that way.
Whatever the judges were doing, Flora was already watching her team with hawkish eyes, picking out every detail. “This is so nerve-wracking. They need to be flawless or we don’t have a chance.”
“Why’s that?” Matteo asked. He had connections and felt comfortable dealing with event planners, but that didn’t mean he had an intimate knowledge of every sport in existence. He was fairly proud of himself that he had as wide an awareness as he did.
“Almost all the teams at the Olympic level have eight to ten athletes. Any less than eight, and you start incurring deductions for your team size alone. It’s harder to synchronize a greater number, so the difficulty ratings on all your movements is higher. Having four members is like playing with a handicap in golf.”
Matteo nodded, understanding now. “Part of the problem with the island not having a credible, artistic swimming program. Not much way to build talent.”
Flora simply nodded her agreement, falling back into her inspection as the team rounded the corner of the pool and marched toward their starting marks.
Matteo’s interest broadened a little, unable to pick out the tiny details that Flora was looking for. Instead, he considered the other things he was noticing. Of utmost importance was the scoreboard, which announced:
Technical Round
1 – USA 1 – 91 – 31.85
2 – AUS 1 – 85 – 29.75
3 – USA 2 – 84 – 29.40
4 – RUS 1 – 82 – 28.70
5 – NZL 1 – 81 – 28.35
6 – BRA 1 – 80 – 28.00
7 – CAN 1 – 80 – 28.00
8 – RUS 2 – 78 – 27.30
9 – MEX 1 – 76 – 26.60
10 – USA 3 – 75 – 26.25
11 – DEN 1 – 74 – 25.90
As he understood it, the scoring was similar to figure skating where it was separated into two rounds: the technical and the free program. The first one was more rigid, meant to confirm that the athletes had all the requisite skills that the international, governing body deemed necessary. A team could earn more points in the free program by doing higher difficulty elements, but they weren’t forced to do any of them.
This first round was a true cross-comparison of the teams performing the same skills, even if they were set to different music in a different order. It comprised 35% of the score, while the free program was worth 65% and would push the teams right to their limits of both athleticism and creativity.
Both rounds were scored out of a hundred, but the free round was weighted appropriately. That’s why he was seeing two columns on the scoreboard now. He wasn’t sure if these judges were being kinder because of the nature of the competition, or if these were typical scores you would see at the Olympic games.
It did give him a preview of some of the important international teams. All three of the USA teams were there. Usually only the top two would show up at international competitions, but they were using their home-field advantage to give their third-tier team some experience. Australia and Russia were right in the mix at the top of the leaderboard, which wasn’t a huge surprise. He knew some teams who would be at the world championships and Olympics weren’t here – evidently, from what Flora had told him, Germany, China and Italy all had amazing teams. And India and Japan were both making names for themselves on the circuit.
The ones who were on the board represented a good chunk of the competition they would face in the Americas. There were a few missing, but these were the key teams they would be up against if they made it to the Pan Am games.
&
nbsp; What he hadn’t expected was to see those teams lay down the gauntlet before the Portesaran team got their first chance. He hadn’t known that the first round was a random draw. As luck would have it, their team had ended up going last out of the twelve participants.
Matteo wasn’t sure if that was good luck or bad luck, but it made them wait longer. Waiting could build up the nerves. Then again, they had been waiting to get their shot for a long time. What was another couple of hours?
Strong scores appearing on the board could also be daunting, but he hoped the team was ignoring them. Maybe one day, they would be confident enough to see the board and take it as a challenge, identify the mark and know what they had to do. But if Matteo was them, he would have simply ignored the standings and focused on what needed to be done – nail the routine.
The four women finished their unified walk with what Matteo thought was laser-like focus. With the precision of a military drill team, they canted their legs into delicate arches facing the pool, then raised their arms in graceful arcs to complete their starting positions. Then they held, waiting for the music to start.
He couldn’t help but take in their breathtaking physiques. It was easy to admire a swimmer’s body. Swimmers tended to develop long, lean, slender forms that were as hydrodynamically perfect as a human body could be. But artistic swimming demanded something that was absent from many other sports: they had to make things look effortless as well. Gymnastics, figure skating, competitive dancing and a few other sports shared this aspect. It wasn’t enough to have a gorgeously sculpted leg. You had to know how to make that leg float delicately through a series of carefully crafted motions, form intricate shapes and match those movements to the melody and beat of chosen music. The athletes had to know their own bodies intimately, then use that knowledge to build their routines to exhibit the best of themselves.
The one-piece bathing suits they wore didn’t hurt his appreciation of their physical virtues. The red and blue attire might as well have been painted on their skin, especially since they had pre-showered. Their suits and skin were all slicked down, revealing every contour of their feminine silhouettes.
Watching the four women perched on the edge of the pool, waiting to hear the first strains of their music, was a moment of poetry. They were embracing the anticipation. It was a beautiful thing to witness.
The music began. Matteo instantly recognized it as a relatively recent score written for a TV show about Supergirl. As the latest in the string of shows created for the character, the series concentrated on her developing her sense of self while in the Justice League environment, matching herself and her inexperience against more established heroes. The show was about discovery of potential and owning her own power. The music mirrored that sentiment. As it happened, the Portesaran colors they wore added to the illusion. They had designed the suits to be reminiscent of Supergirl’s costume, linking the two in the minds of the audience.
He had to agree, it was perfect for them. As they dove into the water and flicked their legs through the first series of movements, fluttering their feet above the water, he could feel their energy. They were performing the routine as if their entire future depended on it.
It very well might, Matteo had to admit. While it was possible to be disqualified from a contest, it wasn’t easy and usually involved things like failure of one’s music or breaking one of the fundamental rules of artistic swimming. No doubt, some of the event coordinators expected a brand-new team to commit such an error. They had been let into the competition almost like they were a charity case. Like they were the odd cousin allowed into the party, but then left alone because no-one really wanted to speak with them.
But the four of them had worked hard. They might be fresh on the world stage, but they weren’t amateurs. Within the first few seconds, everyone could see that. All around, Matteo could see expressions of surprise. People in the crowd were leaning forward in interest. Other teams who had been lingering near the pool, a few of them snickering expecting to see the ‘outsiders’ to make fools of themselves, were now dead silent. Best of all, the judges were no longer looking like they were pandering to the group, bored and hoping the performance wouldn’t be too embarrassing and thus forcing them to rate them low and break the festive mood. Instead, they were on the edge of their chairs, taking notes and getting invested in a routine that was as professional as it was exciting. Expected for this level of competition which this team had now joined.
It was a wonderful sight to behold. The team had earned acceptance. They had the momentum. And the element of surprise.
As Matteo watched, Daphne burst from the water. Melodie and Hélène popped up next as the power behind her emergence. Hélène twisted and swam away first. Melodie followed her by turning in a spiral, invoking a rotation in Daphne, who extended her arms and formed a star shape. She managed half a rotation before diving back into the water. It was an explosive move, showcasing their strength and ability to generate lift.
“Next up is the flexibility lift,” Flora breathed softly by his side. She was chewing at her nails, tapping her feet in a constant show of nerves. He felt badly for her, though he had to chuckle at the mental image of her as the conduit for the other four women’s stress. They appeared completely calm, while Flora seemed to be losing her mind, as if they had found a magical way to turn their coach into a lightning rod for their nervous energy.
Matteo was absorbed as they flowed away from their last throw and into a revolving star pattern, reaching in to touch hands while gliding in a clockwise circle. He couldn’t fathom how they were generating that much speed through the water. Granted, he did not have what anyone would consider the ideal swimming physique. He had still learned how to swim; it was a required survival skill when you lived on an island. But he always felt like a churning dog. These four women made it look effortless.
They were close to their finale. He sensed it in the music as well as in their building energy. He admired their legs when they inverted, scissoring them above the water in unison while their arms beat under the water powerfully to give them the lift they needed. How are they doing that? They can’t hear the music. Not clearly, anyway. Are they counting the seconds in their heads to stay on pace with the tune? Or are they watching each other under the water? They’re incredible…
In harmony, their sculpted legs split open. Matteo’s jaw dropped as they all did splits, tapping the pool’s surface in a way that made it clear that the movement was intentional. A heartbeat later, their legs went straight… and then they dove down like four dolphins. Reversing their momentum, they surfaced high enough that their hips nearly cleared the water, grasped hands, caught their breath, then sank back down. A quick reorganizing went on under the water. Hélène inverted again, curling her legs and getting ready to push up. Laura slipped into position with her behind cupped by the soles of Hélène’s feet. She folded herself in half, hugging her own legs up to her chest in a ‘V’ posture.
Then, Daphne and Melodie swept in from both sides of Hélène, using her like a piston that they braced and then shoved out of the water. Hélène straightened her legs with a powerful thrust, acting like a pedestal as she was surged above the water. Daphne and Melodie nearly got her entire midriff into the air. All that height went into presenting Laura in her folded state.
At the top, Laura unfolded like a flower, arching her back until her fingertips and toes both nearly touched the water, then rolled backward off Hélène’s feet and slipped head-first into the pool.
They came up as one, facing in four opposing directions as they struck their final pose at the end of their two-minute allotment.
Applause broke out among the spectators. Perhaps more than a technical routine should have accounted for, but the quality had been so far beyond what any of them had expected. Flora and Matteo were standing and clapping and cheering as the four women elegantly exited the pool. Still purposefully synchronizing their movements, their exit was as planned as the rest of it.
They stood for a second waving at the applause, enjoying their moment. Then they rushed over to their coach as quickly as was safe on a slippery floor. Laura and Daphne were embraced by Flora, while Hélène and Melodie crushed into Matteo’s burly arms. He didn’t much care that they were soaking wet. He hugged them tightly, and then did the same to Laura and Daphne when they switched.
A speaker came to life nearby.
# Technical scores for Portesara Team Competition #
All eyes flew to the scoreboard, watching as their numbers were inserted amongst the rest. This would decide the order of the free program, with the lowest team going first.
Technical Round - Final
1 – USA 1 – 91 – 31.85
2 – AUS 1 – 85 – 29.75
3 – USA 2 – 84 – 29.40
4 – PTS 1 – 83 – 29.05
5 – RUS 1 – 82 – 28.70
6 – NZL 1 – 81 – 28.35
7 – BRA 1 – 80 – 28.00
8 – CAN 1 – 80 – 28.00
9 – RUS 2 – 78 – 27.30
10 – MEX 1 – 76 – 26.60
11 – USA 3 – 75 – 26.25
12 – DEN 1 – 74 – 25.90
The crowd went nuts in several different ways. Some were moderately outraged to see a relative unknown team rank so highly. Others within the crowd were annoyed that the incredible program hadn’t scored higher.
There was no hint of disappointment or outrage by the four athletes or their coach. They knew their smaller team and lack of reputation was going to cost them from the very start. Sliding into a spot right below the second US team on their home turf was a coup in and of itself. It sparked off another round of cheering and celebrations between the small group.