Page 1 of Leo

CHAPTER ONE

Leo Tilbury pulled the swim cap tight over his head, the latex cap pulling at his hair. He hated wearing the cap, but he knew that it helped with speed in the water, and he wanted and needed all the help he could get in shaving off even just a tenth of a second. His other option was to shave his head, which didn’t seem a good option for him at all.

A superior swimmer, Leo realized while in middle school that although he was a good all-around athlete competing at a high level in basketball, track, and baseball, his true gift was swimming. For some reason, he felt at home in the water. His body seemed to glide through like silk on glass.

Having won every possible meet he’d entered for the last three years, even beating boys two and three years older than him, he was now in the final race of his high school career. A race, if he won, could mean scholarships for college if that was the route he decided on.

Leo looked up into the stands one last time, hoping to see his mom. For all intent, she was a single mother raising a young boy. His father was around. But that’s about all Leo could say. Suffering from depression, bipolar disorder, and frequent cases of schizophrenia, he wasn’t the easiest man in the world to love. Yet his mother found a way to love him to the core.

Thankfully, Leo was a great kid who never gave her an ounce of trouble. An honors student, tremendous athlete, and responsible young man. He worked a part-time job when school or swimming didn’t interfere and gave every dime to his mother to help out at home.

Although his father wasn’t physically disabled, he worked infrequently. Just when Leo thought his father might be on a positive track, he’d have a bad episode and lose his job. Again.

He didn’t hate his father for his illness. His mother had done an excellent job of explaining that his dad wasn’t always the way he is today. She’d helped him to understand that his father just needed help, and Leo was a good enough son to give that help when needed.

Today, he knew that she had a shift to work at the hospital, but she’d promised she would be there for his final race even if his father didn’t make it.

Scanning the stands, he was starting to get concerned. Finally, he found her smiling face, her arms waving above her head at him. She wore a blue and white t-shirt, his school colors, that said, ‘That’s my Son winning in lane four.’ He had to laugh. Lanes were selected based on preliminary swim times, but Leo’s were always at the top. His mother had a t-shirt for every possible lane assignment.

Feeling much more at ease, he took one last look up and down the line of swimmers, sizing up his competition. Leo was confident, but he wasn’t stupid. Any young man could win. Anything could happen. A bad start, a cramp, goggles askew, anything.

“On your marks,” said the starter.

Leo stepped up to the platform, shaking his arms and legs, mostly to rid himself of the nerves.

“Set.”

He bent at the waist, his long, lean, muscular body gripping the front of the platform, his left leg set back, ready to push off.

The starter pistol sounded, and Leo pushed off the block, gliding through the water, careful to only move his body until he went above the surface. The 400m individual medley was one of the toughest races to win.

Swimmers must perform a 100m butterfly swim, a 100m backstroke swim, a 100m breaststroke swim, and finally a 100m freestyle. All without error, without breaking form, and as fast as you possibly could.

On his second turn, switching into backstroke, he was slightly ahead. He kept telling himself not to get worried and not to feel too confident. Trust in your training.

By the fourth turn, entering into the breaststroke, one of his strongest swims, he pushed ahead of the competition. By the time he was on his final 100m, he was more than 20m ahead of everyone else.

But Leo didn’t want to slow down. He pushed himself harder, further, and more fiercely than ever before. As he touched the wall, he looked up at the scoreboard and realized he’d done the impossible.

Leo Tilbury had broken a nearly thirty-year state record. One-by-one, the other swimmers touched the wall, looking back at the scoreboard, thrilled to be second or third. They’d all known that no one would beat Leo Tilbury.

“Congratulations, man,” smiled the competitor next to him. He reached over for a handshake and hug, smiling at him. “That was fucking amazing.”

“Thanks,” he laughed, shaking his head.

He looked up into the crowd and saw his mother blowing him kisses and waving at him. She indicated she had to leave but tapped her heart several times.

It was one of the proudest moments of Leo’s young life. As he pushed himself from the pool, his coaches and teammates ran to hug him.

“You pushed us over the top, Leo,” said his coach. “You made the school number one. I’m sure gonna miss you next year.”

“Thanks, coach,” he laughed.

It was a whirlwind of medal ceremonies, photos, and then they hit the showers to change and get on the bus. But as Leo started to board the bus for home, an officer was waiting at the door. He frowned at his coach, who had a terrible expression on his face.

“What’s up, coach?” he asked.

“Leo. Son, it’s your mom.”

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