Chapter 4 #2
They all kind of grumbled that none of them did as well as they had hoped.
All of them except Kira, who remained suspiciously quiet.
Was she being quiet because she actually did well and didn’t want to stand out from her peers?
I understood that. I’d been the best swimmer on my swim team for as long as I could remember, but I was never braggy about it.
I didn’t want to lose friends over being good at something, or have them think I thought I was better than them.
“Kira placed first, but none of the rest of us placed,” another girl said.
I glanced at Kira, whose cheeks were turning pink. “Well done, Kira. Are you proud?” She ran her tongue over her teeth and shrugged. “I guess.”
“Next up, the two-hundred-meter fly. Girls, ages eleven to thirteen,” the announcer said.
“All right, team, that’s us. Let’s get ready.”
Kira, along with two other girls who were racing, stood up, unzipping their swimsuit covers and stashing them against the wall. They walked single file toward the platforms, pulling their goggles over their eyes before climbing up.
Kira turned to me. “Maybe Winnie or Shante should win one this time?”
Oh shit.
I shook my head. “No. If they’re meant to win, they will.
But I want you to give it your all, Kira.
Don’t give away the gold because you think someone else should have it this time.
If you’re meant to get gold in every single race you swim today, then so be it.
Do you think Michael Phelps slowed down so Ryan Lochte could get a gold? ”
She shook her head.
“That’s right. No, he didn’t. He won that gold medal. He took it for himself. He earned it by being the best.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Kick some ass, kiddo. You’ve got this.”
She slid her tongue over her teeth, then smiled. “Okay. Thanks, Coach Deacon.”
I gave Winnie and Shante some words of encouragement too. Then, Kira wished her teammates good luck, and they all took their starting positions. The buzzer went, then the gun fired, and they dove into the water.
My gaze flew up to the stands where Greta and Jeanie stood cheering wildly for Kira, who swam her heart out.
Not everybody could do the butterfly stroke.
It involved a lot of upper-body strength.
It was personally my favorite, but so far, we didn’t have a lot of girls in particular, come through able to do the stroke well enough they wanted to compete.
Until Kira.
The kid was a star.
By the time she was on her length back, she was already half a pool length ahead of the rest, and she wasn’t slowing down. The pool was wild with loud, enthusiastic cheers for the swimmers, but it was impossible not to see the awe on some people’s faces with how fast Kira really was.
She reached the end of her second lap, did an underwater somersault and pushed off from the wall only to fly up like a flying fish, arms coming forward, propelling her.
A girl from another team was gaining on her, but it was questionable whether she would gain enough to overtake Kira. I didn’t think so.
Kira reached the end, flipped and pushed off once more. The girl was on fire. She was giving it her all, just like I told her to. Literally sprinting to the end to finish the final fifty meters and win herself that gold.
The volume level of the crowd intensified, and I found myself cheering just as loudly. Ten meters to go. Then five. Then three. Then two. Then one. And … she won!
I leaped into the air, fist pumping as Kira glanced up at me, an enormous smile on her face.
Winnie came third, and Shante came fourth. Still very good and nothing to be upset about.
With their chests heaving, they climbed out of the water and the whole team ran up to Kira, embracing her and congratulating her on another win. Her smile was wide.
I hedged a glance up at Greta in the stands. She was grinning as wide as her daughter, and my heart did a happy little thump in my chest.
Kira raced twice more that day, coming in first in both the 100-meter freestyle and the 100-meter backstroke.
They would all be back tomorrow to compete in the relay, and for the boys to compete as well.
It was expected that even if it wasn’t your race day; you showed up to cheer on your teammates.
There was nothing worse than looking up into the stands and not seeing anybody there because it wasn’t their time to race, so they didn’t bother to show up.
I didn’t have a lot of rules as a coach, but that was one of them.
“Well done, everyone. I hope you’re proud of yourselves. I’m certainly proud of all of you.”
They all looked exhausted. Like pre-teen drowned rats.
“Can we hit the hot tub quick, Coach?” Winnie asked. “I’m freezing.”
“For sure,” I said, jerking my chin in the direction of the hot tub. “Go for it. Just tell your parents.”
She and Shante gave me a thumbs up, then took off in the direction of the hot tub, shivering a little as they went.
Kira had already taken off to the change room, but Greta was just gathering her stuff and climbing down the bleachers.
We hadn’t spoken since that awkward moment when Jeanie forced Greta to host me for Christmas dinner.
Jeanie was already off with Maria somewhere, so I took the opportunity of having Greta alone to give her an out.
“You’ve got a future Olympian on your hands,” I said, breaking the ice. “I know the early morning extra practices can’t be easy on either of you. Do you at least have a garage, or do you have to scrape your window at five in the morning?”
Her smile was sweet, but small. Tired. “I have a garage, thankfully. And I wish I could be one of those parents who stick around for the morning practices, but I just can’t. We live only ten minutes away, so I go home and crash on the couch.”
Chuckling, I shoved my hands into my pockets and nodded. “Fair enough. The early mornings are a bitch for me to ride my bike here. I don’t blame you.”
“You ride your bike?” she exclaimed.
“Cars are expensive, and so is a graduate degree. Had to make a choice. I take the bus when it’s particularly gross out, but it doesn’t run on a very friendly schedule for the early practice schedule.”
“Okay, I’ll stop complaining then.”
Smiling, I glanced at the ground. “Listen, Mrs. Robinson—”
“Ohhh, Deacon, you need to call me Greta. Please.”
Chuckling awkwardly, I nodded. “Listen, Greta, I’m really sorry for Jeanie forcing you to invite me to Christmas dinner the other day. I swear I didn’t put her up to it.”
“I know you didn’t. I love Jeanie, but she can be very pushy. She forced me to start an online dating profile. That has been …” she shook her head in disbelief, “a lot, to say the least.”
Flickers of jealous heat sparked in my belly. A dating profile? I could guarantee that not a douche she met on there would be worthy of her.
I cleared my throat. “Anyway, don’t think you need to actually host me. Jeanie’s not the boss of either of us. I don’t want to intrude on your time with your daughter. I will survive Christmas alone. I’m not going to off myself if that’s what Jeanie is worried about.”
Another sweet, small smile curled at her mouth. “You should come. I don’t like the idea of your being on your own, either. She’s pushy, but she’s got a good heart.”
“You’re sure?” I asked. “I really don’t want to impose.”
“Bring a bottle of wine with those mashed potatoes, and it won’t be an imposition at all.” She flashed me a bigger smile and stepped down onto the pool deck.
“Deal.” I beamed.
“See you tomorrow, Deacon.”
“See you tomorrow, Mrs. Rob—Greta.”