Perfect (Book Two)

Seven: O Captain, My Captain.

Tuesday afternoon, Emily hovered in Coach Lauren's office doorway. "Can I talk to you?"

"Well, I only have a couple minutes until I have to give this to the officials." Lauren said, holding up her meet roster. Today was the Rosewood Tank, the first swim meet of the season. It was supposed to be a friendly exhibition meet—all the area prep schools were invited and there was no scoring—but Emily usually shaved down and got pre-meet jitters all the same. Except not this time. "What's up, Fieldsy?" Lauren asked.

Lauren Kinkaid was in her early thirties, had perma-chlorine-damaged blondish hair, and lived in T-shirts with motivational swimming slogans like Eat Our Bubbles and I Put The STYLE In Freestyle. She had been Emily's swim coach for six years. First Tadpole League, then at long-course, and now Rosewood Day. Not very many people knew Emily so well—not well enough to call her "Fieldsy," to know that her favorite pre-swim meet dinner was pepper steak from China Rose, or to know that when Emily's butterfly times were three-tenths of a second faster, it meant she had her period. Which made what Emily was about to say that much harder.

"I want to quit," Emily blurted out.

Lauren blinked. She looked stunned, like someone had just told her the pool was filled with electric eels. "W-Why?"

Emily stared at the checkerboard linoleum floor. "It's not fun anymore."

Lauren blew air out of her cheeks. "Well, it isn't always fun. Sometimes it's work."

"I know. But...I just don't want to do it anymore."

"Are you sure?"

Emily sighed. She thought she was sure. Last week she was sure. She'd been swimming for years, not asking herself whether she liked it or not. With Maya's help, Emily had mustered up the courage to admit to herself—and to her parents—that she wanted to quit.

Of course, that was before...everything. Now, she felt more like a yo-yo than ever. One minute, she wanted to quit. The next, she wanted her normal, good-girl life back, the life where she went to swimming, hung out with her sister Carolyn on the weekends, and spent hours goofing off on the bus with her teammates and reading from the birthday horoscope book. And then she wanted the freedom to pursue her own interests all over again. Except...what were her interest, aside from swimming?

"I feel really burnt out," Emily finally offered, attempting to explain.

Lauren propped her head up with her hand. "I was going to make you captain."

Emily gaped. "Captain?"

"Well, yeah." Lauren clicked and unclicked her pen. "I thought you deserved it. You're a real team player, you know? But if you don't want to swim, then..."

Not even her older siblings Jake and Beth, who had swum all four years of high school and gotten college scholarships, had been captains.

Lauren wound her whistle around her finger. "How about I go easy on you for a bit?" She took Emily's hand. "I know it's been hard. With your friend..."

"Yeah." Emily stared at Lauren's Michael Phelps poster, hoping she wouldn't start crying again. Every time someone mentioned Ali—which was about once every ten minutes—her nose and eyes got twitchy.

"What do you say?" Lauren coaxed.

Emily ran her tongue over the back of her teeth. Captain. Sure, she was state champion in the 100-meter butterfly, but Rosewood Day had a freakishly good swim team—Lanie Iler got fifth in the 5 freestyle at Junior Nationals, and Stanford had already promised Jenny Kestler a full ride next year. That Lauren chose Emily over Lanie or Jenny meant something. Maybe it was a sign that her yo-yoing life was supposed to go back to normal.