Never Ever

7| Straight road to glory

I jolt awake, gripping my damp covers like I'm still in a nightmare. Across the room, Addy snores softly, a small but reassuring silhouette in the dark. Her covers are on the floor again, her clothes sprawled over the chairs and her bed, spilling onto the dresser. I resist the urge to fold them away and turn on my back, forced to remember the accident.

It was customary after winning a meet that we'd throw a big party, and the night of the accident was Malika's turn. As soon as I got home from the meet, I inhaled my dinner, finished my homework, and headed upstairs to get ready.

My parents were still at work, and neither of them could get the time off for my meet, but I didn't mind. They'd been to so many over the years that they all blurred into one.

I was almost ready, save for my hair, when Mom knocked on the door. "Come in," I said and turned back to the mirror, running the flat iron through my hair.

Mom appeared in the reflection behind me, smiling. People say we look alike, but they're just being kind. My mother is beautiful, drop-dead, stop-in-your-tracks kind of beautiful. Long, dark hair that tumbles down her back, killer high cheekbones, and dark, cat-like eyes that have mastered the art of smizing. While I've inherited the same dark hair and olive skin, my cheeks are all dad's, round and babyish.

"I heard you won your meet," she said and walked up behind me, kissing me on the cheek. "I'm so proud of you, baby." She pulled back a little, taking the flat iron from my hands and running it through my hair. "I wish I could have been there, but I couldn't get the time off work."

"Mom, it's fine," I said. "You've been to like a thousand of them."

She smiled. "I know, but when you're an Olympic swimmer, and the journalist asks how supportive your parents were, I want you to say I went to every meet."

I rolled my eyes. She was joking, but not really. Ever since I discovered my talent, my parents had convinced themselves I was destined for greatness, and so had the rest of the town. To them, heading to college as a record-breaking swimmer meant one straight road to glory.

"Well, have fun tonight," Mom said. She set down the flat iron and gave me a motherly look in the mirror. "Be responsible."

A nose peeked through the gap in my door, followed by the rest of Dad's body. He grinned when he saw me, his cheeky smile making his cheeks look even rounder. "This is Ever we're talking about. She's always responsible."

Mom smiled in the way she only did around Dad as he pulled his arms around her. Kissing her cheek, he whispered, "I missed you."

She turned in his arms, nuzzling his nose with hers. "I missed you too."

I looked away, pretending to be sickened, but the truth is, I didn't mind that my parents were so open and affectionate. I'd seen what it was like in Malika's family, where her parents could barely sit in the same room, let alone speak, and I was glad our house wasn't like that.

When I was ready, I said goodbye to my parents, assured them I wouldn't be home late, and ran outside to where Maisy Leggins and the rest of the swim team were waiting in her truck. I slid into the back with Ariah and Carly, who quickly hugged me as Maisy tore down the picture-perfect street.

Back then, I was known as the overachieving swim captain who got along with everyone, and I settled into the role perfectly, confident in my reputation. Parties weren't exactly my thing – I spent most of my weekends volunteering or studying – but so long as I had my teammates around me, I'd have a good time regardless; I always did.

We spent the whole drive laughing and chatting about the meet, still excited about our win, and on days like these, we felt unstoppable, like nothing could hold us back. Of all the things I miss about swimming, that's one of the biggest.