by M. F. Lorson
“Would now be an appropriate time to ask what you did?” I said with a grin.
Max placed his hand on his chest in mock shock. “Me? I am an innocent victim.”
“Riiiight,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, so I may have told her that her new blonde dye job made her look less than authentic.”
“And?” I asked, motioning for him to continue.
“And that her shorts were too short.”
“And?”
“And, I get your point. But all of those things were true, and if you can’t tell your girlfriend the truth then what is the point of being in a relationship?”
I raised a sore arm to pat him on the shoulder, “No need to convince me, little brother,”
“Thanks,” said Max, wiping his hands on my T-shirt before returning to his spot on the couch and picking up the Xbox controller. “You should know that I am very bitter, and I’ll be stealing your friends to make me feel better.”
I rolled my eyes. By stealing my friends, he clearly meant Nora. Though she was technically my best friend, Max seemed to borrow her when it was convenient. When we were kids, a comment like that would have caused me to throw a fit. Nowadays, I was used to it.
I left Max in the living room to contemplate his single status through extensive video gaming and went upstairs to start on the evening’s homework. I had calculus and half an American Lit essay to finish. Usually, I could crank an essay out in no time, but tonight my brain was all over the place.
How not solid were Mitch and Cassie? And why was it that spending time with Gray was starting to feel like the early days of dating?
Even alone in my bedroom a blush rose in my cheeks when I thought about my total verbal vomit moment. Says the boy with the perfect body. Hello Addy, you do not say those things outside of your head!
If Gray and I were going to work together long enough to get to Halloween without my scaring him off, I was going to have to start picturing him in a parka.
Chapter Nine
Gray
I tapped on the door frame before peeking my head into Mr. Wallace’s office. He was on the phone but gave me the signal to sit down and wait. I sat silently, bouncing my knee until he finally hung up the phone and looked at me expectantly.
Without letting him get a word in, I asked, “Have you heard about that scholarship...by chance?” I didn’t want to be rude, but I seemed to have forgotten my manners in my excitement. This was the one scholarship I felt most excited about. It was a grant specifically for athletes with a struggling economic status. I wrote an especially poignant essay about the burden I was putting on my mom and how my dreams shouldn’t make her go broke. No one could have denied me the scholarship after that.
“Yeah, I did,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “They decided to go with someone else, Gray. I’m sorry.”
It was like someone let all the air out of the room. I sagged in my seat, hoping he would say something optimistic like, I could appeal it or there was another more promising scholarship around the corner, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched me slump down in the chair while I thought about some other athlete going to some fancy event to accept the full-ride that was almost mine.
“Well...thanks,” I mumbled as I stood and walked out of the office.
“Hey, Gray,” he called after me. I turned without a word as he continued. “Hang in there.”
“Thanks.” Marching out of the counselor’s hallway, I tried not to think too much about it. With practice starting in a few minutes, I didn’t want to sulk in there looking as defeated as I felt. If that scholarship didn’t work...I was starting to think that none of them would.
The locker room was packed when I walked in, the guys in lively conversation. I managed to slink in unnoticed as I nodded to Simon who used the locker next to mine. He must not have noticed my sour mood because he didn’t say anything or ask questions. I thought I would be able to get through the day without an event, but Freddy called over to me, loud enough for everyone in the locker room to hear.
“Hey, Turner!” I looked up with a blank stare. “What’s up with you and the new girl?” He winked at me along with some grotesque gestures.
“Knock it off,” I answered coldly, putting my stuff into my locker.
It didn’t stop the guys from erupting in howling laughter. Simon and I shared an eye roll.
“You think those extra lessons are going to help?” another swimmer added. “You’re wasting your time.”
There was a general consensus in the room, but I did my best to ignore it, and I certainly wouldn’t entertain them by making an argument.
“You really think you can get her up to the standard?” Freddy asked with a more serious expression. He was leaning against the lockers with his dark, beady eyes trained directly on me. “I planned on just benching her at most of the meets. Griffith always lets me make those calls.”
My head snapped up at his confession. It wasn’t much of a surprise, honestly. It wasn’t like we didn’t do stuff like that in Encinitas, but I thought about how devastated Addy would be if, after all of this hard work, she wouldn’t even be allowed to swim with the team.
“Yeah, I got it under control,” I answered with confidence.
He watched me suspiciously, like he was trying to gauge whether or not I could be trusted. Finally, he nodded and walked out of the locker room with his goggles on his head and a towel under his arm.
“Who peed in your granola?” Addy asked, jogging up beside me as we walked toward our designated lane.
“What are you talking about?” I replied without even cracking a smile. Between the scholarship and the revelation in the locker room, I was more than ready to bring this day to an end.
“You’re clearly in a grouchy mood. What’s up?”
“I’m fine,” I asserted, jumping into the water. I wished I could stay under the surface for a moment longer. It was so much quieter down there.
We were practicing relays today, which was good. If I could get Addy in any event, it was the medley relay. Her backstroke was almost to the “not-too-bad” stage.
The coach started by putting us into groups based on our individual times in the freestyle, which meant Addy was on the farthest possible lane from me. I found myself feeling a little bummed by that. We had gotten so used to practicing together. At least we would have our private lessons afterward.
The coach watched as we all swam 100 meters in each event, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was putting together the perfect relay teams. Freddy and Willow, the two captains, made their way over to where Griffith was deliberating. In my head, I knew I should stay out of it, but I couldn’t help myself. There was no way what they were coming up with wasn’t complete garbage.
When I finally poked my head in to their small circle, I looked down at Griff’s notepad and didn’t see Addy on it anywhere.
“Gray,” the coach said when he spotted me. “We’d love your input.”
I felt Freddy’s eyes on me as I stepped closer. “Well, you’ve got Amelia swimming three events. She’ll be exhausted by the time the 400 butterfly comes along, and she’s the best we’ve got.”
“I sort of thought you’d chime in on the boys team, but please continue. What would you suggest?” he said. Now, I felt Willow’s frustration in her hard stare pointed right at me.
“Let Addy swim in the medley. Yeah, she’s slower, but the other three girls are fast enough to make up the time. We’re not wasting any other girl’s energy, and we have to put her somewhere anyway…”
Griffith looked down at his scribbled mess on the notepad and immediately added Addy’s name with the other girls. Then he nodded, appreciating the perfect puzzle, like he had just solved it. “Good idea, Turner,” he said as he looked up at me with a smug smile.
When I turned and walked back to the bleachers, I spotted Addy floating at the end of the lane with a couple of the other girls. They must have been joking about some
thing and quieted their laughing when Griffith blew his whistle to get everyone’s attention.
“Alright. We’ve finalized the medley relay lineups for Saturday’s meet.” He held up his messy notepad and started reading names and events. I watched Addy when he came around to the girls. She kept her cool, for the most part, when he called, “Backstroke, Addy Altman.” But when he announced an end to practice and the swimmers began to disperse, Addy stayed in the water doing an awkward happy dance that could have been mistaken for drowning.
Whatever it was, it made me smile.
Addy
I waited for the rest of the team to head for the locker room before sidling up to Gray.
“I’d like to offer you this token of my gratitude for your role in procuring my spot in the relay.” I said, sliding a chocolate dipped protein bar into his hand.
He held the silver wrapper up and scanned the label, “30 grams of protein and only 3 net carbs, eh? Please tell me you don’t eat these things on a regular basis.”
I crossed my arms over my chest pretending to be offended. “Thank you Addy, I really appreciate your thinking of me.”
“Was that supposed to be me?” asked Gray, a small laugh escaping his lips for the first time since practice started. I was glad to see him smile again. The last thing I wanted was to spend a half hour being ordered around by the extra grouchy version of him.
“I’m working on my mopey Gray Turner voice.” I said. “I’ll try to have it down by regionals.”
“How about focusing on your backstroke instead?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in disapproval.
“Fair enough,” I said, jumping into the pool. “You’re welcome to crack into that protein bar though. You know, keep your mouth busy.”
Gray rolled his eyes, “So when you said a token of gratitude, what you meant was a silencing mechanism.”
I shrugged my shoulders innocently before diving backward for my first of many laps.
I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I was good at the backstroke, but working with Gray had made major improvements to both my speed and efficiency. Plus, I was a lot less sore after practices, now that I didn’t waste so much energy flopping around like I was being struck by lightning.
The first couple of times we worked together, thirty minutes felt like three hours. Today however, the time was slipping by faster than I wanted it to. I was shocked, and a little disappointed when Gray pointed to the clock reminding me that we needed to get out of here before Coach Griffith took back his generous offer to let us use the pool unsupervised.
“One more lap?” I asked. My last run hadn’t been as clean as I would have liked.
“One,” said Gray with a smile. “Then get dressed. I threw your protein bar in the trash where it belongs. Plus it’s my turn to pay for dinner!” He called out as I began my final trip down the pool and back. I wanted to make this last lap perfect. Keep my arms close to my ears like Gray taught me, flutter my legs with grace so that I travelled through the water with the least amount of resistance, but Gray Turner had just offered to buy me dinner. And even though I knew it was not a date, the idea of sitting across a table with him somewhere in public had my heart beating at twice its normal rate.
I flew across the pool and back as fast as possible, popping out of the water on the other side with a big grin on my face.
“Wow,” said Gray, his eyes wide with awe. “If I had known the food was your motivator, I would have started bringing cheeseburgers to practice.”
Cheeseburgers. He was as bad as a girl if he thought it was the food I was looking forward to.
Because I was the driver I chose where to eat. Not that Gray minded. By his own confession, he hadn’t been here long enough to know what was good and what the health inspector might shut down any day. I pulled into the Custard Queen parking lot. Delinki had one of the last great outdoor Custard shops. The stand was shaped like a giant ice cream cone, with windows all around so you could see them make the custard while you waited. Max and I used to visit daily as kids. Now, of course, it was reserved for bad first dates and the occasional sad girls night.
“Are we having ice cream for dinner?” asked Gray, looking at me like he regretted tossing the protein bar.
“They serve burgers and hotdogs too,” I said, hopping out of the car and taking my place at the back of the line. Gray followed behind, his eyes glued to the custard machines churning in the center of the stand.
“And it’s custard, not ice cream. Big difference.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Looks like ice cream to me.”
I let out a deep sigh and ordered two cheeseburger specials with a small cup of vanilla custard. Gray was quick to hand the attendant a twenty, as if I might race him to pay or something silly like that.
I handed him the custard and took a seat at one of the red picnic tables that sat outside the stand.
“That’s for you,” I said, when he attempted to slide the cup back toward me. “Eat that and tell me that custard and ice cream are the same thing.”
Gray shook his head, but I watched his face change as he took a small bite of the extra creamy, extra awesome, midwestern treat. “Whole different ball game isn’t it?” I declared.
“That is, insanely good. Like Dairy Queen on crack.”
“Minnesota,” I said with a sigh. “No oceans in sight, brutal winters and muggy summers, but we have custard. California 50, Minnesota 1.”
Gray scooped another spoonful of custard from the bottom of the cup and passed it across the table. I savored a bite with the realization that I hadn’t had one bit of dessert since I started this whole, get hot quick scheme.
“The custard is good. But you’re scoring is off,” said Gray, resting his arms on the table.
“Oh yeah?” I asked, wondering what else Minnesota could possibly have on the great state of California.
Gray’s eyes locked with mine. “I like the people here too,” he said, his voice low, earnest, and completely heart melty.
So melty in fact, that I got nervous and followed up his adorable admission with, “I’m gonna check on those burgers.”
Chapter Ten
Gray
The first meet of the season always had me on edge with equal parts excitement and nerves. All of my preconceived judgement aside, the team looked pretty good. The girls team could have given the girls at Encinitas a run for their money. And that was saying something.
The boys team was...improving. I couldn’t help but think that the swim team was made up of football rejects who just needed something to satisfy their masculine sport requirement. That and it let them hang out in their underwear with girls in their underwear.
And for that reason, the boys team would remain firmly at “just okay.”
Between me and Simon, we could pick up a lot of slack. My replacing Freddy in the butterfly was an easy choice for the team. And my addition to the free relay meant we could gain back a lot of the points we would lose in the other events. And Simon was fast—really fast—so I was confident we had that race in the bag.
As I waited for my first event, the 100 Butterfly, I stuck to my usual swim meet habits. Keeping my headphones on, I stayed in my own little bubble, hovering around the back of the room away from the other swimmers. The rest of the team would usually mingle before the first event to get themselves hyped and ready, but this was how I would get in the zone. No distractions. No people.
I spotted my mom on the bleachers trying not to look at me. She was no stranger to my pre-meet routine, which meant she didn’t show me too much attention or offer me any distractions. Since today’s meet was in Delinki and she had the morning off, she insisted on driving me. I knew she had a night shift to look forward to, and these things could be long, especially since I was swimming the last event of the day. It wouldn’t be easy to convince her to leave me here in order to get some rest.
Machine Gun Kelly was doing an impressive job of keeping me amped up, but even he couldn’t drown out the b
ouncy brunette jogging over to where I stood solo and unapproachable. She was saying something, but I pretended I couldn’t hear her. That really got on her nerves, making me smile and only making her more annoyed.
Finally, I pulled the headphones off and greeted her. “Can’t you see I’m trying to focus over here?”
Slapping my arm in response, she shrieked, “Can’t you see that my one event is first, and I’m kinda freaking out over here?” She did look genuinely freaked.
“Relax,” I said. Reflex and tradition told me to elbow her or smack her on the back because that’s what guys did, and I was used to competing with guys. Something else entirely told me to put my arm around her to comfort her so she didn’t feel alone.
I did neither.
“Come on,” I said, doing a little light bouncing on my feet. “Loosen up. You can’t go out there all tense like that.”
She mimicked my movement, but it ended up being more of a wild jog-dance. “What if I royally mess this up and everyone on the team hates me?” she cried.
“This isn’t the Olympic games, Addy. Or a popularity contest. It’s the first meet. If it doesn’t go well, then we go back to practice and work together to improve.” She nodded, biting her lip and looking only slightly more relaxed. “But you’ll do great,” I continued. “You’ve got me as a trainer…”
“Slick,” she quipped back with a hard glare. “Gray Turner never misses an opportunity to compliment himself.”
I couldn’t help the loud laugh that came out of my mouth, and suddenly people were turning to look at us. Specifically, I noticed my mother’s attention was laser-focused on the two of us. She saw me laughing with a pretty girl when I would normally be avoiding human interaction at all costs.
Quickly looking away with a more serious expression, I tried to get my head back in the zone. But apparently Addy had been around me enough to pick up on those little signs because she turned to see where I had just looked and stared directly at my mom.