I shook my head no. Amelia had been crushing on DJ forever. And it seemed like she was actually making a tiny bit of progress. I wasn’t going to get in the way of that. I stared after them for a while. A strip of white hung down below the back of his suit jacket and it took me a moment to realize it was his shirt. It must’ve come untucked. DJ was a mess. Cute but a mess. I turned and went to look at some art. I was at a museum, after all.

Eleven

“I don’t believe Coach isn’t letting you swim all four races today. I thought that’s what the paper you caught DJ with was implying.”

The cold metal bench beneath my legs made me shiver. “Amelia. Are you trying to get in my head right before we swim?”

“Sorry. Sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

But it wasn’t her. I was already in my head. Coach didn’t want me to swim all four races and I couldn’t stop thinking about how DJ said my persistence was frustrating. How Coach probably felt the same way. He didn’t even want me to stay late at practices anymore. He’d never said anything when I’d stayed late before.

Up in the stands my dad called my name. He stood and waved when I looked. I waved back and noted my mom next to him talking on the phone. I really should’ve worn my headphones right up until I had to swim. Michael Phelps used to do that at the Olympics to stay in the zone or get pumped up or something. If he’d done it, it couldn’t have been a crutch like Coach implied. I took a deep breath of chlorine-filled air, then stood. I jumped up and down a few times, then stretched out my shoulders. “Here we go,” I said when the announcer called out our race.

Coach was beaming when he stood in front of us after the meet. “I’m so proud of all of you. We had an amazing meet today. Next Saturday is the finals. You are to stay all day to support the whole team no matter when you swim. After that, as your coach I require one more commitment from each of you. In two weeks there’s the awards banquet. I expect you all there. I don’t want to hear about other plans. This will be your one and only if you expect to swim on my team next year. This is as important to me as any meet has been the whole season. Understood?”

“Understood,” we all echoed back to him.

“Okay. Go enjoy your Friday.”

The other swimmers filed away. Amelia left too, knowing my habits. This would normally be the time, after performing so well in my races, where I would pester the coach about letting me swim more. Even though I was sure he wouldn’t let me swim the butterfly for the final meet of the season, I still had my senior year ahead of me. I wanted all four races next year. But over the coach’s shoulder I saw DJ, and between the two of them, and my throbbing shoulders, I couldn’t do it. Coach obviously didn’t want it to happen. I spun around and left.

Amelia, who hadn’t made it far, tilted her head.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s nice that Heath Hall didn’t show up today. Turns out you’re intimidating, after all.”

“I guess so.” My dad stood off to the side, waiting for me. “I’m riding home with my parents. See you tonight.”

She gave me a side hug. “Don’t give up on the four races.”

“What’s the point?”

“The point is that you’re amazing.”

“Until I can shave off more time, I’m going to stop asking.”

My dad opened his arms when I joined him.

“You don’t want a hug. I’m wet.”

He pulled me into one anyway. “I always want a hug. You swam great today.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Mom said to tell you, ‘Good job.’”

I wondered if she had seen me swim at all. Every time I had looked up, she was on her phone. My eyes went to the gate and to the parking lot beyond it, wondering if she was still on the phone now. I rubbed at my aching shoulders. “Where is she?”

“She had to run off to her first five K meeting today with the new staff for the next race.”

“Sounds official.”

“Sounds boring. So to celebrate me getting to stay, should we get Froyo?”

“Dad, don’t call it that.”

“Isn’t that what all the kids are calling it?”

“No.”

“Do you need to change before we go?”

“Let me just grab my sweats, and if you’re not embarrassed to be seen with a swim rat, then I can go like this.”

“I am not embarrassed to be seen with my talented daughter.”

Between my coach and my mom, it felt like my dad was the only one who thought that. “I’ll be right back.” I went to my locker, pulled on my sweats, then shoved my wet towel in my duffel and slung the strap over my shoulder. When I got back outside, Jackson was standing next to my dad, talking to him like they were old friends. I slowed my hurried pace. As far as I knew, they’d never met before. Did Jackson even know it was my dad he was speaking to? Had Jackson been here the whole time?

“Moore,” Jackson said when I reached them. “That was some excellent swimming. Not as good as my swim but a close second.”

“You’re a swimmer as well?” my dad asked.

“No, he’s not,” I answered before Jackson could.

He answered anyway, with a mocking tone. “I’m a bit of a novice. I came today to watch the experts and pick up a few pointers.”

My dad, not realizing that everything that came out of Jackson’s mouth was a joke, said, “That’s nice. I’m sure Hadley will give you some pointers. We’re going to get some Froyo right now. You should join us.”

“Dad—” I started to scold when Jackson interrupted me with, “I’d love to.”

I shot him a look that clearly said, Stop being terrible and go away, but it didn’t faze him.

“Moore enjoys my company. She just told me the other day that she thought I was the funniest person she knew.”

“Is that so?” my dad asked.

“He’s actually the funniest person he knows.”

“That too,” Jackson said with a smile. “I’ll meet you over there. The one on Coral Road?”

My dad nodded, and Jackson was gone.

“Dad, please don’t invite people out with us before asking me.”

“He was so pleasant and funny. I thought for sure you two must be friends.”

We weren’t friends. At all. He was annoying. My dad would soon find that out.

Only my dad wasn’t finding out anything. Twenty minutes later and he was egging Jackson on—laughing at all his jokes, asking him questions to expand on his stories. My sugar-free yogurt wasn’t distracting me well enough. Maybe I should’ve caved and gotten a few toppings.

“So then did he give you back your phone?” my dad asked after Jackson told him all about having his phone stolen at McDonald’s, then calling it and having an hour-long conversation with the thief.

“No. Do you believe that? At the end of the conversation the guy said, ‘I just arrived at the confessional. Great talking to you, man.’ Then he hung up.”

“So you made him feel guilty enough to go to church and confess but not guilty enough to return the phone?”