Page 143 of Finding Us

“Okay. So I’ll meet you back here at noon.” She holds her phone up. “It’s on and fully charged.”

“Good. You going anywhere besides the bookstore?”

“I might check out the library. I’m not sure yet. If you get done early, just call and we’ll meet up. Love you.” She kisses me again, then takes off for the bookstore.

I trudge over to the pool, nerves balling up in the pit of my stomach. I go in the locker room and quickly change into my swim trunks.

When I get to the pool, Keith is waiting with a clipboard and a timer. Great. Like I’m not already nervous enough? He can’t even let me get some laps in before he starts timing me?

“Garret.” He smiles. “You’re right on time.”

“Yeah. Can I do some warm-up laps first?”

“Of course. Go ahead. I have to make a phone call. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I stretch a little at the edge of the pool. My shoulder feels okay right now. After the bench press yesterday, I thought for sure it would ache when I got up this morning, but it didn’t.

I dive into the pool and do some laps. The water feels good and I start to relax. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

About five minutes later, Keith comes back. “You still warming up? Don’t feel rushed. If you need more time, just say so.”

“No, I’m good. What should I start with?”

He gives me the choice so I pick the backstroke. I swim to the end of the pool and back, then repeat that a few more times. I’m moving fast and my shoulder feels fine.

Keith stands at the edge of the pool. “That’s excellent, Garret. Great form.”

“How was my time?”

“It was good.”

“What was it?”

“Let’s not think about times right now. Let’s focus on form. Try the breaststroke next.”

Good?He describes my time as being ‘good’? That means it sucks. Shit. I need to go faster. I do the breaststroke up and down the lane twice.

“Also very good form.” Once again, Keith doesn’t mention my time. “Show me the butterfly. Eight laps.”

My shoulder is starting to ache but it’s tolerable. I take off, doing the butterfly, which is my least favorite stroke because it’s my weakest stroke.

“A few form issues to work on,” he says, “but otherwise very good. Freestyle next?”

“Sure.” I do the crawl, going as fast as I can. The ache in my shoulder is really bothering me now and it’s pissing me off. I try to ignore it and swim faster.

When I’m done, I see Keith sitting on the bleachers, writing something on his clipboard.

“Come on over, Garret.”

I grab my towel and meet him on the bleachers.

Keith sets the clipboard aside. “You’re an excellent swimmer and I’d love to have you on the team.”

My heart pounds harder in my chest because I sense a ‘but’ is coming.

“But I can’t let you on the team with an injury.”

“I don’t have an injury.” I sit up straighter. “I feel fine.”

---