scholarship.”
I sit a little straighter. What is she talking about?
“Alec’s family moved here, drawn by Coach Rick Lazare and his track record of garnering a high percentage of scholarships for his swimmers.”
So that explains the transfer to a new high school his senior year
.
“You’re from Tucson, right?” she says to Alec.
“A small town south of there. It was a good high school, but not a top division.”
“And there’s quite a carrot dangling out there for you, as I understand. Tell us about Stanford.”
Stanford?
He shrugs as if Maryann hasn’t just mentioned one of the top schools in the country
and
one of the most elite swim programs. You don’t get into Stanford unless you’re the real deal.
“The coach contacted me last summer, after my junior year. We’ve got what you call a verbal agreement, but it’s understood that I need to push harder and make some things happen as a senior.”
“And so your family relocated for your swimming?”
“It made sense for other reasons too.”
“Still. That must add a lot of pressure.”
I’m watching Alec like I’ve never seen him before. Maybe I haven’t. Alec is new, and we don’t have any classes together. I just assumed he’d be an average student, but average wouldn’t cut it at Stanford. I also see his swimming in a new light. No wonder he works so hard. He’s going to need incredible times to get accepted, much less get a scholarship. So much for being a
typical
athlete.
Coach must have told Maryann these things, but I wonder why he never mentioned it to the rest of us. Stanford would be a talking point for any coach. So maybe it isn’t certain? Maybe Coach isn’t convinced Alec can get there?
“Sure,” Alec is saying. “It’s pressure, but it makes me work harder.”
Maryann nods encouragingly. “I can see the determination in your eyes, Alec. Tell me, is that a key to your success?”
“It’s part of it, I guess.”
“Abby,” she says. “You tell us. It takes so much to win. Technique. Strategy. Training. Fitness. Determination. What do you think is Alec’s greatest strength?”
I nearly choke on a mouth of air. “Uh.” I blink. He’s watching me and suddenly all I can think of is how he called me a cheat. Called Connor a cheat. “He’ll do whatever it takes to win.”
“Wonderful.” Maryann bobs her head up and down. “Now, Alec, it’s your turn. What do you think is Abby’s greatest strength as a swimmer?”
I stiffen.
Perfect—payback time
. I curl my hands over the chair, waiting for the blow to land.
A second passes. A pause. Then I hear him say, “Heart.”
I’m ready for anything, but not this. It’s just a bunch of crap, but my breath freezes in my throat. It didn’t sound like crap. It sounded like he meant it.
I meet his eyes as a flood of confusion fills me. He’s summed me up in one word. As if he understands me. It suddenly hits me that this is the way Alec swims as well.
With heart.
“Well, what a wonderful last word to end with,” Maryann Engels says. “Don’t you agree?”
A minute later, it’s over. I shake Maryann’s hand and stand up. When I turn to face Alec, he’s already gone.
12
I ’m lying in bed looking at the ocean. It’s actually just the deep blue paint on my ceiling, but it makes me think of water. The rest of my room is also painted blue, but a lighter shade. Even though it’s dark, I can see the color thanks to a streetlamp that spills light into my room from dusk to dawn. I could close the blinds, but I usually don’t. Other people fall asleep. Me, I dive into my dreams.
I have a queen-size bed that’s too big for my room but just barely big enough for me. I’m a flailer when I sleep—my arms and legs go everywhere. When we have away meets, I get my own bed. Not even Jen will share since the last time. She kicked me to stop me from moving and sprained her toe.
I’ve got an end table next to the bed for my alarm clock and iPod. The dresser
I sit a little straighter. What is she talking about?
“Alec’s family moved here, drawn by Coach Rick Lazare and his track record of garnering a high percentage of scholarships for his swimmers.”
So that explains the transfer to a new high school his senior year
.
“You’re from Tucson, right?” she says to Alec.
“A small town south of there. It was a good high school, but not a top division.”
“And there’s quite a carrot dangling out there for you, as I understand. Tell us about Stanford.”
Stanford?
He shrugs as if Maryann hasn’t just mentioned one of the top schools in the country
and
one of the most elite swim programs. You don’t get into Stanford unless you’re the real deal.
“The coach contacted me last summer, after my junior year. We’ve got what you call a verbal agreement, but it’s understood that I need to push harder and make some things happen as a senior.”
“And so your family relocated for your swimming?”
“It made sense for other reasons too.”
“Still. That must add a lot of pressure.”
I’m watching Alec like I’ve never seen him before. Maybe I haven’t. Alec is new, and we don’t have any classes together. I just assumed he’d be an average student, but average wouldn’t cut it at Stanford. I also see his swimming in a new light. No wonder he works so hard. He’s going to need incredible times to get accepted, much less get a scholarship. So much for being a
typical
athlete.
Coach must have told Maryann these things, but I wonder why he never mentioned it to the rest of us. Stanford would be a talking point for any coach. So maybe it isn’t certain? Maybe Coach isn’t convinced Alec can get there?
“Sure,” Alec is saying. “It’s pressure, but it makes me work harder.”
Maryann nods encouragingly. “I can see the determination in your eyes, Alec. Tell me, is that a key to your success?”
“It’s part of it, I guess.”
“Abby,” she says. “You tell us. It takes so much to win. Technique. Strategy. Training. Fitness. Determination. What do you think is Alec’s greatest strength?”
I nearly choke on a mouth of air. “Uh.” I blink. He’s watching me and suddenly all I can think of is how he called me a cheat. Called Connor a cheat. “He’ll do whatever it takes to win.”
“Wonderful.” Maryann bobs her head up and down. “Now, Alec, it’s your turn. What do you think is Abby’s greatest strength as a swimmer?”
I stiffen.
Perfect—payback time
. I curl my hands over the chair, waiting for the blow to land.
A second passes. A pause. Then I hear him say, “Heart.”
I’m ready for anything, but not this. It’s just a bunch of crap, but my breath freezes in my throat. It didn’t sound like crap. It sounded like he meant it.
I meet his eyes as a flood of confusion fills me. He’s summed me up in one word. As if he understands me. It suddenly hits me that this is the way Alec swims as well.
With heart.
“Well, what a wonderful last word to end with,” Maryann Engels says. “Don’t you agree?”
A minute later, it’s over. I shake Maryann’s hand and stand up. When I turn to face Alec, he’s already gone.
12
I ’m lying in bed looking at the ocean. It’s actually just the deep blue paint on my ceiling, but it makes me think of water. The rest of my room is also painted blue, but a lighter shade. Even though it’s dark, I can see the color thanks to a streetlamp that spills light into my room from dusk to dawn. I could close the blinds, but I usually don’t. Other people fall asleep. Me, I dive into my dreams.
I have a queen-size bed that’s too big for my room but just barely big enough for me. I’m a flailer when I sleep—my arms and legs go everywhere. When we have away meets, I get my own bed. Not even Jen will share since the last time. She kicked me to stop me from moving and sprained her toe.
I’ve got an end table next to the bed for my alarm clock and iPod. The dresser
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