Page 41 of The Black Table
“Save it.” The words are all but barked out. Elena looks up at me, eyes fierce, but then her expression softens. “I mean…” She clears her throat. “Just…don’t worry about it, Gwenna. I was…overreacting. Had too much to drink.” She smiles, tips her head. “And I certainly didn’t realize you had the whole fencing team behind you.”
Neither did I,I think. I wait for her to say something more, butshe doesn’t. I’m halfway to forming some words myself when she jumps back in.
“Before we begin, I have to ask you some questions.” Elena clicks her pen. “You are…Gwenna?” She says my name like it tastes bad.
I nod. “Yes.” Although how I wish I wasn’t.
Suddenly, I wonder if this is even worth it. The swim test. The semester. Proving myself at all.
I could give up. I could go home.
I could let them win.
“Question two,” Elena interrupts my train of thoughts. “Can you swim?”
“Y-Yes,” I stammer.
Instantly, she looks up.
“Yes?” she says. “Or no?”
“Um—”
“It’s a simple question,” she practically snaps. “Can you, or can’t you?”
“I can…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence. I’ve never swum a lap for a race, or even just for exercise, but I’ve been in bodies of water and survived. “I can not drown,” I say at last.
Elena sets her jaw. But her eyes brighten.
“Interesting,” she says, tapping her clipboard with the pen.
“Interesting?” I echo.
“I’m only supposed to administer this if you confirm that you can swim. Otherwise, it’s too dangerous.” A little smile creeps over her lips. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. I’m a certified lifeguard, after all. I would never let someone innocent drown.”
I choose to ignore the adjective. But a slow panic is feeding into my skin, taking over me from the bottom up, from where my sneakers are uneven on the sand to the crown of my head being ruffled by the lakeside wind.
Like her sweetness is all an act.
Like I’m about to make a mistake.
“The test is,” Elena goes on, “swim to the furthest buoy and back, and do it under the time limit.”
“Time limit?” I repeat. “Which is?”
“Fifteen minutes,” she says, almost laughing. “You think you can manage it?”
“Yes,” I say, this time with more confidence than I feel.
Fifteen minutes is an eternity, I tell myself. And the buoys are…I squint. I’ve never been a good judge of distance based on eyesight alone. Fifty yards? Maybe a hundred? Walking it would be no problem. Running it, even. Swimming the greenish water of the lake that’s lapping at the sand…that, I’m less certain about.
“Oh, and you’ll need to…” She eyes me up and down. “You can’t wear a wetsuit.”
“What?” My stomach sinks. “Why not?”
“They help you float,” Elena says simply. “That’d be cheating.” She tips her head. “You do have a normal swimsuit under there, don’t you?”
I do. But.
