Kath grins. “Swimming in the sea is the best, though. The Devon coast? Amazing.”
“Anything else?” Claire presses. “Come on, Sam. We need details. We don’t know anything about you yet.”
“Erm, I just moved from Guildford. And swimming takes up most of my time.” I rummage through my bag so I don’t have to make too much eye contact, finally unearthing my snack.
“What do you mean?” Kath asks.
“Well, I usually train twice a day,” I tell her around a mouthful of sandwich.
“What?” Claire gapes. “Did you swim this morning?”
“Yeah. 5:30 a.m. to 7 a.m. I’ll go again tonight.”
“That’s insane.” Claire shakes her head.
“That’s cool though,” Josh says. “Are you good? What’s your favourite stroke?”
“I’m alright,” I mumble. “Freestyle is my favourite, or at least my fastest. But I do butterfly and the individual medley too.”
Claire stares, looking as if she’s still processing. I feel my ears turn red. Talking this much to new people is making me feel shy again.
“What about you guys?” I try to shift the conversation.
“Nothing that exciting,” Claire says. “I like drawing.”
“Ben and I like football,” Josh adds. I know nothing about football, but at least I was right about Ben’s name. Small victories.
“You’re good at it,” Kath smiles and the group dissolves into teasing about who was the best player on their primary school team.
As we walk back towards the building, Kath nudges me. “So, swimming, huh? That’s why you’re too busy for Nancy Drew?”
“Pretty much,” I admit. “There’s not much time left after training and homework. I don’t really watch films in the evenings.”
“We’ll fix that,” she promises. “You need a proper film education.”
“That sounds fun,” I say—and I mean it. At some point between maths and geography, the ball of nerves in my stomach started to shrink.
“Let me give you my number.” She holds out her hand for my phone. “We can organise something. I’m usually pretty free on weekends.”
My cheeks heat as I hand my chunky Nokia over, it’s the kind you could probably drop off a roof and it’d still survive. Kath punches in her details. I don’t have any girls’ numbers. It’s just Mum, Dad and my coach. Though I’m not sure a girl literally handing her phone to you and asking for your number really counts.
I follow Kath for the rest of the day like some kind of socially-anxious duckling. It doesn’t take long to realise she actually enjoys school. Like, genuinely. She seems to like every subject. Her dad’s a teacher, which explains a lot. She even puts her hand up in every lesson, which, frankly, saves me from being noticed at all.
The desk gods definitely smiled on me this morning.
***
“How was the first day, then?” Mum asks as I climb into the car. She tucks a few wispy strands of her blonde hair behind her ears—the exact same unconscious gesture I catch myself doing in the mirror. Genetics are weird.
“Pretty good. People seem nice. Teachers were decent.”
“You’re spoiling me with all these details,” she teases. “Come on, give me names. Tell me about your new friends. There must be someone worth talking about. Or someone we can have over for dinner.”
I sigh. She’s not going to let this go. She’s always desperate to invite people over, like it’s some kind of hobby. But asking someone round after one day of school feels a bit intense.
“Uh, I sit next to a girl called Kath in all my classes. It’s alphabetical—her last name’s Ford. She’s really clever. Has a nice group of friends from her old primary school and I spent most of the day with them.” By my usual standards, that’s practically a speech. Mum gives me a proud smile.
“Do you want to invite Kath over on Friday?” She looks too hopeful.
