Chapter 12 Seventeen years old
Seventeen years old
Sam
Icheer as Kath finishes her backstroke event in second place.
She makes her way around the side of the pool back to the bench, sitting down next to me before waving at her dad who’s sitting next to my parents in the stands.
I love school galas, being at the pool with all my friends, my parents able to attend easily rather than having to drive to some random pool in another city just to watch me swim a few lengths.
“You got this, Champ,” Kath says as I stand to stretch.
“Thanks.” I hand her my water bottle, rolling out my shoulders.
She grins. “You better be taking this as seriously as the Olympics. School pride is at stake. Plus, we all need to hear another one of Mr Rudd’s assembly speeches about how you broke all the school records… again.”
I smirk. “I would never be anything less than one hundred per cent focussed in a race… even in the school pool.”
“That’s the spirit.” She claps me on the back as I make my way to the blocks.
I’m just glad people are treating me normally again. The first week was awful. Everyone acted like I was the one who was sick. Like I was fragile. I hated it.
I head around the side of the pool, trying desperately not to think about all the ways my life has shifted.
Kath passed her driving test two months after my mum’s diagnosis.
I’ve never seen her so determined about anything—and that’s saying a lot.
I studied for GCSEs with her, and I’m pretty sure she produced enough flashcards to qualify as a small stationery shop.
But it was nothing compared to the driving theory notes and the number of times she dragged her mum out for practice drives between hospital shifts.
I keep telling her how grateful I am, but she just shrugs it off like it’s nothing.
It’s not nothing though. It’s made life immeasurably easier.
It means Dad can take Mum to her increasingly frequent doctor’s appointments.
It means Mum can rest instead of driving me places.
And she does a lot of resting, far more than I expected.
I know she’s in pain, even if she never says it.
I miss driving to practice with her though.
When she would grill me about my life in a space where she knew I couldn’t run away.
We would talk about everything, my nerves about a science test, the book she’d picked up for me from the library, how I was feeling about training.
Now we just have scattered moments of that at home.
I still can’t imagine her being gone. Not having someone to talk to about everything. I shake my head and try to focus on the race I’m about to start.
When I reach the finish, I pull myself up onto the wall, waiting a few seconds before the guy from St Vincent’s in the next lane finishes second.
“Good race,” I tell him as he catches his breath. And I mean it—he’s a solid swimmer. He grimaces at me.
Making my way back to the benches, I watch the next few events. The sharp chlorine smell, the echo of splashes against the walls, it’s all so familiar, comforting in a way. But even that isn’t enough to pull me fully from the edge of gloom that shadows the corners of everything I do.
Is this the last time Mum will ever watch me race?
“I think Mr Rudd is going to be very impressed with us.” Kath nudges my shoulder, as if she knows where my mind is going. “A school record, a handful of medals—he’s definitely angling to be part of the BBC documentary on your life, Sam.”
“Please,” Josh cuts in. “If there’s a documentary, I’m obviously going to feature in it. Think of all the stories I can tell—like the time Sam fell asleep mid-maths lesson because he was up so early for training.”
I roll my eyes. “I really hope no one ever makes a documentary.”
Josh smirks. “And if they do?”
“I really don’t want them talking to you, mate.”
Kath snickers, and for a moment—just a moment—everything feels normal. I try to absorb the feeling, even though I know it won’t last… it never does.
My phone buzzes with a text.
“Who’s that?” Josh asks.
“Molly.”
“The girl from St Hilda’s?”
“Yeah.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I immediately know where his brian has gone.
“We’re just friends,” I say.
“Mm-hmm."
I roll my eyes and text her back.
Molly’s nice. It’s good to have another friend who doesn’t know every detail of what’s happening with Mum.
Someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m one piece of bad news away from falling apart.
Whatever Josh thinks we really are only friends, and friends who text very rarely at that.
In a rare moment of openness, I told her straight away that I would never be interested in being anything more that friends, and she was completely fine with it.
Anyway, I have more free time on weekends now since Kath’s usually with Bobbie.
I glance over, about to say something to Kath—
But she’s put on her headphones.