“You finish?”
I hand her phone back.
“Yeah.”
We both stare out at the calm waters, swimmers getting to their blocks while Welles students cheer behind us. My chest is heavy, but it’s different from the guilt and pain it’s been carrying. I don’t feel worthy of having a girl like Lily do something so selfless for me. I’m grateful for the way she saw my sister, though. For the way she memorialized her and gave her credit for everything she’s about to do.
“You won’t tell her I told you.” Morgan isn’t asking.
I answer anyway.
“I won’t.” And I’ll beg her not to give away this credit.
My heart thrums, my lips and hands and legs numb.
“There she is,” Morgan says, nudging me to look off to the right where Lily is walking in, a photographer trailing her.
She’s still listening to her music, but her features are stiff, her gait stilted and robotic. Her nerves are back. The attention is swallowing her.
“Come on, Lily,” I mutter.
“Come on, girl,” Morgan says at my side.
They announce the swimmers for her race and when they call her name and she holds up a hand, every single person in the stands screams. We’re all rooting for her, but I know how she’s interpreting this. She sees people here for the show, and yeah, a lot of them are. But there wouldn’t be a show if she weren’t so goddamned brave.
She bends down and dangles her arms, stepping up to the edge of the pool and stretching to touch the edge. She flexes for a moment, then rights herself and pulls her goggles down over her eyes. Her body is sleek, ready to cut through the water. Her heart and mind, though, they’re jagged.
“Swimmers, take your mark.”
I hold my breath, and the room grows quiet. Lily’s face remains down, her eyes on her feet, on the spot where her fingertips graze the pool’s edge. When every other racer’s head pops up to look out on the lanes ahead, Lily’s remains down. And when the beep sounds to dive in, Lily is frozen.
“Theo.” Morgan squeezes my arm.
“Come on, Lily. You can do it,” I say. The room is filled with people cheering her name, begging her to hurry, willing her to race for them.
“Do it for you, Lily. Just finish. Remember, you only want to finish,” I say.
“Dude, this isn’t good,” James says over my shoulder.
My stomach roars with acid and my heart sinks as Lily rolls her body up to stand and she pulls her goggles up to her forehead.
The fieldhouse echoes with chants, her name on repeat. I doubt anyone else sees it, but I notice the way her body cringes with every mention of her name. Every word pierces her, cutting her down, breaking her resolve, and pulling her back into the hole she worked so damn hard to get out of.
“Watch my stuff,” I say, emptying my pockets and pulling my shoes from my feet. I tug my Welles polo over my head and toss it to my empty bleacher seat and rush out to the end of lane five.
Without pause, I dive into the water and swim toward her. I stop about halfway and tread water, holding her gaze, willing her tears to stop.
“Just make it to me. That’s all you have to do is make it to me,” I shout.
She shakes her head so I swim closer, cutting the distance in half.
Her lips quiver with a fearful laugh and her gaze scans the room. She’s feeling the pressure of it all, the attention crushing her, the embarrassment stamping her skin.
“We’re all behind you, Lily. Nobody cares if you win. We know you can do this.Iknow you can do this. Just make it to me.”
My jeans are growing heavy so I kick harder to keep my body afloat and my head above water. Some of the other swimmers have stopped, realizing what’s going on. The ones on the end lanes continue to race. The water is choppy.
“I’m here, Lily. I’m not getting out of this pool until you cross it with me.” I hold out a hand, legs whirling in the water beneath me to keep me from sinking.