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“Yeah, I told her. She got her badge. All good,” Brooklyn cuts in. She turns her attention to her own purse, pulling out her phone and flipping through social media. I keep an eye on her screen, totally invading her privacy, and when she gets to Morgan’s account she stops. Like me, she must notice the drastic change in her feed. The followers are still near a million, but the content is sparse, like a purge. And for a girl who has spent years honing a digital universe that she could basically retire on, it’s weird to see such a huge remodel underway.
“Hey! Let’s get this crowd going!”
Cameron raises his hands as if he’s trying to rev up the crowd. He gets a few whistles as he climbs a step and takes a seat on the other side of me. We pound fists, and I relax a little with his presence. It doesn’t last long. Within minutes, Brooklyn and he are carrying on an entire conversation across my lap. Eventually, I convince Brooklyn to switch with me, which puts me directly behind Morgan, and being here, unable to see any hint of her expression, is absolutely worse.
The team streams in, and eventually Brooklyn and Cameron move to Morgan’s row to help hold open a spot for Theo. Devin and a few of the other guys from the team fill out my row, and Toby sits on the opposite end with his shrinking group of friends. He glares at me every few minutes, and between the laser eyes from him and the cold shoulder from Morgan, I strongly consider leaping in the pool.
The aquatics center is buzzing, and it’s awesome to see the turnout to support Lily. I know that’s why most people are here. It’s a little voyeuristic; this is her first big swim since the accident. But the overall vibe is basically aMighty Duckslevel of positive.
I shoot Theo another text, worrying he’s going to miss things, and I know how important today is to him. Other than Lily, he has the most invested in this moment. I don’t think she has a parent in the room, and that thought brings me back to my own and the realization of how special they truly are.
I cradle my phone in my palms and type as they announce the members of the team.
ME:You better hurry. This place is packed, and Morgan is threatening to sell your seat.
That’s not true. I mean, it could be. I wouldn’t know because she won’t talk to me. But the point is he needs to get his ass here.
THEO:Just got here. Be there in a second.
I focus my attention on the door, and when I spot him rushing past a few parents from one of the competing schools, I lean forward to point him out to Morgan.
“Theo just walked in,” I say, my mouth at her ear. Her shoulder lifts, maybe from the tickle of my breath, and I fight the urge to sweep the loose hairs away from her neck.
“Thank God,” she breathes, and I smile, both because I’m glad Theo made it and Morgan spoke to me like I’m human.
Theo climbs into his seat a few minutes before the meet gets under way. He and Morgan have an intense discussion about something, and I’m tempted to invite myself into their small circle, but I get the sense this talk has nothing to do with me. When Morgan hands Theo her phone, I lean in enough to glimpse the words on her screen. It looks like it’s a story inTheAffiliatewith his byline, which is crazy cool. I stop short of patting him on the back in congratulations, realizing just in time that I’m not really a part of this conversation, and instead sit back and continue searching for openings for the talk I really want to have.
By the time Lily is at the pool’s edge, the entire fieldhouse is roaring. My palms are sweating as she takes her mark, and when the beep sounds and she doesn’t move from her starting blocks, my heart breaks. It’s as if I’m on those blocks with her, scared and frozen, my dreams swimming away from me stroke by stroke. The water in her lane is calm while everyone else’s is complete chaos.
Oh no.
I lean forward.
“Dude, this isn’t good,” I say to Theo.
He shakes his head, but within seconds, he bolts into action, diving into the pool and willing her to do the same.
“Oh, my God!” Morgan shouts, and she’s on her feet in front of me, willing Lily to swim to Theo. In the moment, I grab her shoulders and bounce on my toes in sync with her while she claps and we both beg the universe to give her this breakthrough.
The entire fieldhouse chants her name, and when she finally jumps in the water and begins to swim, there’s a swell of hope that makes everyone practically high. Morgan turns into me and clasps my hands, her face lit up with pride for her friend while my chest cracks open with thanks for this moment. It’s about Lily, but I steal Morgan’s singular attention for myself. I covet it and pretend, for a blip. And then she leaves me to rush to her friend and celebrate something I have very little to do with.
* * *
The cold crept back in—literallyandfiguratively—the moment Morgan and I were outside the fieldhouse together waiting for our friends to join us.
I walked out here during the final relay, pretending to take a call from my dad. Really, though? I was suffocating. The longer I sat on that metal bench, now an entire swimming pool away from Morgan who opted to stay by the team and with Lily, the more I felt like a helpless fool. I kept comparing myself to her parents, finding parallels in the way we treat her. It didn’t help that Toby and his friends seemed to be constantly laughing within earshot. My paranoia kicked in and made their cackling about me . . . every time. I’m sure some of it was. I removed myself before I made life more complicated with my fist.
I leaned against a pillar, across from the main doors, and aimlessly scrolled through my phone until people began to stream out after the meet finished. Morgan came out after the crowd left, and we’ve been out here alone, wordless, for almost ten minutes.
There’s a hint of electricity happening between us, like a misfiring conductor. The spark flickers briefly every time our eyes meet. Each time she catches me, I promise myself I’m going to stop looking at her, but deep down, I have no intention at all of stopping. I like the spark. It makes me feel as if I still have a chance.
Morgan is leaning against the wall by the door, and she keeps recrossing her angles, swapping dominant feet. I stretch my legs out and do the same, following her lead every time. She finally catches on after the sixth or seventh time and sighs, instead placing the sole of one shoe against the wall. Her lip ticks up the tiniest fraction on one side, though, and I know I’ve wormed my way in.
She’s wearing her red canvas shoes with black tights, her school uniform, and an oversized Welles sweatshirt that covers half of her palm. I’m sure she stole it from some guy, and I hate him, whomever he is. I’ve been working on getting the courage to ask her about it and am about to when one of Toby’s mouthy friends runs to the door and slides to a stop, slapping his hands against his pockets.
“Fuck! I left my wallet upstairs,” he groans, glancing over his shoulder to me, I think expecting me to let him in. I shrug because no way I’m getting up for that asshole.
My focus drifts to Morgan next, her eyes suddenly on mine. Without peeling her focus away from me, she reaches into her purse and pulls out the badge I returned last night and presses it against the security pad. It beeps, drawing our stranded visitor’s attention and he tugs the door open fast, tossing out a dismissive, “Thanks, bro,” as he rushes through the door.
