I stiffened. “I was busy.”
He nodded. “I get that. Everyone’s busy.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then why do I feel like you’re giving me a hard time?”
He grinned. “I’m not.” He held his hands up, a clipboard in one. “I heard about your sister and something else, someone close to you died?”
“My ex-boyfriend.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Some of the teachers were confused. They weren’t sure of the relation.”
I frowned. “You guys talk about me in the teacher’s lounge?”
“Yeah.” He hiked up his pants. “Don’t feel all special because of it. They talk about a lot of things, but you were a hot topic for a while.”
I finished drying myself off, still frowning, before I dropped the towel and reached for my clothes. “I’m not sure if special is the word I would use.”
“Come on. Everyone thought you were another foster kid.”
I scowled. “What? Another kid riddled with problems?” I raised my chin up, tugging my shirt over my head at the same time. “Because I do, you know. I have enough baggage to fill up a jet.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you telling me that?”
I shrugged, bent over, and pulled up my shorts. “I figured you should know.”
“You missed try-outs. There’s no reason I need to know.”
“And what if I asked for another chance?”
He shrugged, looking pensive. “That’d be interesting.”
I chewed on my lip, studying him. He wasn’t giving anything away, but I caught a spark in his eyes. I couldn’t tell for sure, but my gut was telling me he was thinking about it. For some reason, I wanted a second chance more than anything at that moment.
I said, “It’d be good for me. I’d have a purpose, you know.”
He laughed, took his hat off, ran a hand through his hair, and tugged the hat back on. He shook his head. “I’m not one of those coaches who look for projects to nurture. I don’t care about the underd
og kind of kid. I maybe should. I know if some other teachers heard that from me, they’d take up their self-righteous torches, but you don’t strike me as a kid that cares about bullshit.”
“If I wanted someone to bullshit me, I’d still be in the Parson household. They’re awesome at pretending every pile of shit is dyed gold.”
He barked out a laugh, then caught himself. “You’re something else, Matthews. You think you deserve another shot?”
He was serious. I could tell he was no longer fooling around. He meant it. I nodded. “No, sir. I don’t, but I’d appreciate a shot.”
“You don’t think you deserve it?”
“I don’t deserve anything, but like I said. I’d appreciate a shot.”
He grunted. “You’re like a breath of fresh air. I don’t think I could stand another self-entitled student.”
Did that mean what I thought it meant…
He nodded. “You got your spot, Matthews.”
He started for the door, his car keys in hand. As he was almost there, I called out, “So I can try-out?”
“No.” He turned, using his back to open the door, grinning at me. “You’re on the team. I’ve been watching your speeds the last hour and I already know you’ll smoke my best swimmers.” He paused with the door on his back. He had one foot still in the pool area and the other out the door. The grin faded and he grew somber. “I wasn’t bullshitting you before when I said you have talent. I don’t know why you haven't been swimming this whole time, but this could be a future for you, Matthews. If you work at it, that is.”