Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. Flip turn. Repeat.
I’ve always loved swimming. It’s not the burn in my muscles or the challenge of it, although those are great.
It’s that I’m in my own little world. No sights other than the bottom of the pool, no sounds other than the muffled splashes of water.
It feels like being cocooned in watery peace, free to let my thoughts wander with no chance of interruption.
Three AP classes, two honors classes, and one elective. Enough to keep my GPA at the top—assuming A’s in every class. I’ve never gotten less than an A before, so it’s reasonable not to worry too much.
After the next flip turn, I switch from freestyle to breaststroke, relaxing into the rhythmic gliding motion of the stroke. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a handful of other kids. Swim season isn’t until spring, but the school allowed a swim class to slip into the fall schedule this year.
Kim, our school’s swim coach, blows a whistle to signal the end of class.
The students, a mix of swim team regulars and some kids looking for physical education credits, pull themselves out of the pool, puddles of water forming on the deck.
I strip off my goggles and cap, grab my water bottle, and head towards the basement level locker rooms with the small crowd.
Why does Valley Prep have its pool in the basement? No one seems to know. It’s nice, though. There’s hardly anyone down here, especially when it’s not swim season. Most students don’t even seem to realize this level exists.
The hot steam of the shower soothes my muscles as I carefully wash my long hair.
Removing the chlorine and applying gobs of conditioner are essential to combating the drying effect of pool water.
It’s a constant struggle. Voices of the other students singing and laughing fill the steamy air, and I join in with a smile.
They’ve picked another oldie that’s from my dad’s mix CD, and I know it by heart—Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations.
After storing everything in my locker, I stare at my reflection in the little mirror on the locker door, right beside my miniaturized list of life goals.
My skin looks flushed and bright from the exercise; my hazel eyes alight with determination.
The reflection shows a girl who’s ready to conquer the world.
Because I am.
But is there anyone on this earth who couldn’t benefit from a little pep talk?
While most people might find it embarrassing to talk aloud to themselves, I don’t.
For one thing, there’s almost no one around.
Secondly, I’m excellent at pep talks. And lastly, I’m a firm believer in manifesting dreams into reality.
“You’ve got this, Avery. You’re fierce and independent. Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Next year you’ll be at MIT with Braden.”
Yep, I’ve got this. Invigorated, I swing the locker closed a little harder than necessary, making the sound echo through the tiled room. I sling my backpack over my shoulder, then nearly run into Coach Kim.
“Whoa. Sorry, Coach! I didn’t see you there.”
Kim smiles. “No worries. I heard you mention Braden. How is he? I’m going to miss having him on the swim team this year.”
An embarrassed flush almost creeps up my neck, but I force it down. There’s no need to feel awkward about being caught talking to myself—last week I read an article about how Michael Phelps gave himself pep talks. So I’m in good company.
Then it sinks in—Braden. This will be my first swim season without him, which honestly…
is sad. But it’s one step in the plan to get me closer to being in college with him.
As much as I would have wished for it to happen, I wasn’t able to skip a grade like Braden to keep pace with him.
His mom encouraged him to take online classes during the summers, which allowed him to earn all his high school credits early.
I’m a little behind him, but there’s a plan in place. It will be fine.
“He’s doing great! All moved into his dorm and getting settled into college life. We text and talk all the time.”
Well, not as much as I want, but talking all day every day isn’t exactly realistic. We are busy people, after all.
“I’m so glad to hear that. Anyway, I was going to ask you to help with something. I assume you’re still interested in being team captain this year?”
“Absolutely.” I stand confidently. It’s on the vision board, of course I want to do it!
“Great. The athletic director asked if we’d support athletes who get temporarily sidelined by injuries but still need to maintain their cardiovascular fitness.
Swimming is often a good option during rehab, so a couple students will be joining this class.
I thought it could be a great leadership opportunity for you to help take point on them.
They’ll need a little extra support, and I’ll be busy with the regular swimmers. ”
That doesn’t sound too time-intensive. Anything that adds a star to my student resume is an automatic ‘yes’ for me.
“Absolutely. Let me know what you need, Coach.”
“Great. Thanks, Avery.” Kim pats my shoulder, then disappears into the little office tucked into the corner of the locker room.
I fly up the stairs to the main floor, the smell of the chlorine slowly fading.
On the way I tuck my button-up shirt into my plaid skirt, making sure everything is up to dress code.
My thick, long hair is, unfortunately, still wet from the pool, but I scrub my fingers through it, breaking up the chunks of hair to help it dry faster.
The dampness of my shirt is annoying. I’ll definitely need a better plan for dealing with my hair after swim class every day.
The morning sun hits after I exit the athletic center, sending a delicious wave of warmth through me.
My brand new saddle shoes clack satisfyingly against the red brick walkway that weaves between planters of flowers in an array of bright colors.
Humming the songs from the locker room under my breath, I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulders and wave greetings to anyone who smiles in my direction.
Hundreds of kids stream into the Valley Prep gymnasium, flooding the bleachers, echoes of chattering voices filling the air.
Flashes of blue and gold, the school colors, are everywhere.
Guys are in their required slacks and button-up shirts, while all the girls are wearing plaid, pleated skirts.
It’s cliché, but rich people really love sending their kids to expensive schools that require their children to wear pricey, preppy uniforms. The Valley Prep Viper logo has been repainted on the gym wall, giving the room a fresh and renewed feel.
I sling my heavy backpack down between my legs in our usual section of the gym, the lower right side next to the exit.
Jenna will find me—we’ve been sitting in the same section since freshman year.
While waiting, I watch the crowd and try to pick out the faces of people I know.
There are too many to name—classmates I’ve had since kindergarten, and teachers from every subject.
I call out greetings and wave to everyone, at least until I see…
her. Her tall, dark head stands several inches higher than most of the students around her, but I’d recognize her pompous walk anywhere.
Ugh. I pivot in my seat to face the opposite of the gym, looking for Jenna’s tall blonde head instead.
Sure enough, seconds later Jenna finds me and sits to my left, along with one of her volleyball friends.
“Hey, Av,” Jenna sighs, folding her long figure onto the bleacher bench next to me. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail and her makeup is flawless. “I cannot believe it’s already starting. I could have used another couple weeks of summer.”
Jenna and I have been best friends since kindergarten, which is honestly a miracle given how different we are. Her ideal schedule would include volleyball, parties, and boys. Sorry—men.
“Oh, before I forget,” she adds while rummaging through her backpack. “Take these things away from me immediately. I can literally feel my butt growing just by looking at them.”
She hands me a baggie with a handful of M&M cookies leftover from yesterday.
“Oh, thanks! You didn’t have to give me the rest.”
Jenna shrugs. “I was going to toss them, but Jake said I should give them to you. He did make them for you anyway, I guess.”
Wait, what?
“What do you mean he made them for me?”
“Eh, I complained to him about how you would never come over yesterday. I know how you spiral with your planners and ‘Avery’s going to conquer the world’ boards or whatever, especially the day before school.
He said he’d make M&M cookies and it’d get you right over. Guess he was right cuz it worked.”
I blink at her. Not only did Jake bake the cookies, but he made them to get me to come over to their house?
That’s… different. I’ve been friends with the Taylors for many years, but that still feels like a level of familiarity I wouldn’t expect.
Is it a coincidence that his plan worked?
If not, I must have zero mystique and that’s unacceptable.
With Braden off at college experiencing exciting changes, I don’t want to be boring and predictable.
Something else to add to the ‘to do’ list.
Before I can reply, Jenna’s attention is pulled in by her friend sitting on her other side. I tuck the cookies into my backpack and notice a large figure pass by on the stairs to the right and take a seat right behind me.
“How was your morning swim?”
My hand jerks in surprise, nearly ripping the zipper off my backpack as I finish closing it.
Even over the rumble of hundreds of feet walking up and down the bleacher stairs, my ears catch the sound of Jake’s distinctive chuckle.
It’s the same one he’s had since he was 4, though the tenor of it has dropped significantly.
A slight turn of my head proves I’m right—Jake’s smiling face is right there.
My stomach clenches with nervous energy, and I’m once again thrown off by this strange, new awareness around Jake.
Why is my brain trying to categorize him as anything other than ‘Jenna’s annoying (and sometimes cute) little brother’?
He’s a sophomore! I’m a senior! I have a boyfriend!
Maybe my excitement over the start of the year has caused some sort of misfiring of my nervous system. It’ll pass in a couple of weeks.
A glance over at Jenna shows she is too busy whispering to her volleyball friend sitting on the other side of her to notice my weirdness, thankfully.
I need to get myself under control and stay focused on what matters—Braden, MIT, vision board.
If my brain wants to reinterpret and reimagine the kid I’ve known since we were little, maybe that’s a sign of too much free time on my hands in addition to whatever weird body chemistry may be happening.
A careful review of my schedule is needed.
I give Jake a curt ‘good’ in reply, then turn towards the front.
Jake’s knees brush against me, legs too long to really fit in the bleachers.
I try to muster up the feelings of annoyance I would usually have with him because he’s my best friend’s little brother and he lives to torment us.
But I… can’t. The only thing I feel is frustration with myself for feeling aware of him to the point that the voice coming from the speakers sounds like gobbledygook.
From my years here, I know the procedure.
The new senior class president is giving announcements and pumping up the student body for the new year.
But it’s almost like I’m still in the pool—everything is muted and distant.
Maybe my agitation levels are the same as they always have been around Jake. My blood sugar is probably low from swim class—a quick snack after this assembly will solve that problem.
After a couple of minutes, the senior president takes a seat and the crowd settles.
Then the school principal takes the microphone.
She’s standing in the middle of the gym floor with a handsome, youngish man I’ve never seen before.
He’s either new to the school or he’s some sort of guest speaker.
He’s the type of beautiful you remember—like an A-list actor.
Maybe he’s a new coach? My eyes run over his expensive-looking clothes and shoes and decide that seems unlikely.
“Oof. Who is that?” Jenna whispers to me with a smirk. “Now that is what I call a man. Yum.”
“Gross, Jenna. He’s too old for you.”
“No way. I’ll be 18 in ten days,” she replies then goes back to whispering with her other friend.
My attention is split again when Jake starts running his fingers through my hair. “I can braid this for you. If you want. Do you have a hair tie?” he whispers, his lips way too close to my ear.
I freeze. Jake wants to braid my hair in the middle of an assembly?
We're on the edge of the bleachers, so no one would really notice, and he's actually great at French braiding—he learned right alongside Jenna and me as kids, never once caring that it was 'for girls.
' There were movie nights where I'd braid Jenna's hair while Jake sat behind me braiding mine.
It would be nice to have this heavy, damp mass taken care of. It’s a serious arm workout for me to do it for myself these days and my arms already got a workout this morning. Decision made, I pop a hair tie off my wrist and hand it back to him without looking.
“And now we have an exciting guest,” Principal Fisher enthuses, reaching a hand out and touching the arm of the handsome stranger.
Is she blushing? Not that I would blame her.
That guy is seriously hot (Braden is still hotter, of course).
“Holden Lovell is an alumnus from Valley Prep and is the CEO of a major tech corporation. He’s here to offer us an exciting opportunity to participate in a beta test of his new software called Connection Services.
Everyone please show Holden a warm Viper welcome! ”