The coach's words rang in Jerry's ears throughout the weekend. By Monday, he realized he had to learn to do everything—and he had to learn to do it well.
He worked out a schedule of private training in addition to team practice and showed it to the coach. It included an extra half hour of laps after regular practice. He knew the coach did paperwork in his office each day after the team had left, so he figured he could use the pool without any trouble. When Coach Fulton approved the plan, after making some changes, Jerry posted it on his bedroom door. It was the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing at night.
When he arrived at the pool after classes, he usually saw Tony or Tanya—or any number of others on the team he'd gotten to know better. Some of them were really helpful. But everybody had work to do, and Jerry was no different.
One day when he thought everyone else had left for the day, he found himself doing the breaststroke in the middle of lane three with Lars on one side and Wayne on the other. The two of them had started out after him and had crept up on him as he counted out his measured number of strokes.
Jerry made believe he didn't know they were there until they were right behind him, a stroke away. He stopped suddenly, dipped beneath the water, and backpedaled for a few seconds. Then he came up behind them, swooped forward, and started splashing them with an exaggerated butterfly-type stroke he made up on the spot.
“Watch it!” shouted Lars. “Whale alert!”
“Thar she blows!” cried Wayne, splashing water in Jerry's direction.
The three of them kicked and splashed at each other until, exhausted from laughing, they crawled out of the pool. Then they laid high fives all around and Jerry knew he had two more buddies on the team.
After a few days of practicing the basics, Jerry felt he had gained a lot on the two strokes that were newest to him, the breast and the butterfly. He didn't even feel foolish doing some of the land drills that helped to strengthen his kicking and breathing.
Once, after a really strenuous session practicing the butterfly, he said to Tanya, “You know, when I see little butterflies dipping in and out in our back-yard garden, they seem so light and feathery. But that is one tough stroke! I mean, I've watched you, and you know what? You can be real fierce out there!”
“You know what?” she said, smiling. “I've watched you, too—and so can you!”
“So when's your next meet?” David asked as they waited for the school bus one morning.
“A week from Saturday,” Jerry answered.
“And?” David asked.
“And what?”
“And what events are you going to be in?”
Jerry shook his head. “Too soon to tell.”
David wouldn't give up. “You going to swim in the five hundred again?”
“I told you, I don't know,” Jerry insisted. “Besides, what difference does it make? As long as I help out the team.”
“Yeah, sure,” said David. He didn't sound convinced.
“Listen, small fry,” said Jerry. “You'd better watch out I don't feed you to the sharks. I meant what I said. I just want to do okay in any event I'm in. Sure, I'd like to win. But I'm still a long way behind some of the others. I'm just going to do the best I can.”
Jerry saw his younger brother staring at him. This time it looked like he had gotten his message across.
Gradually, the coach let Jerry practice his crawl a little more each time.
“Your armwork is a little strange,” said the coach. “But it works for you. You have the kind of stroke that holds up for the long haul. I don't think I'm going to train you for the sprints. There's a whole bunch of kids who can do that well already. Just keep up the good work at practice. How do you feel about your other strokes?”
“Pretty good,” said Jerry. “The butterfly and the breaststroke seem a little easier now.”
“Good,” said Coach Fulton. “And the backstroke? Comfortable?”
“Sort of,” Jerry said, mumbling a little.
“It's an important stroke to have down,” said Coach Fulton. “Keep working on it.”
So Jerry stuck to his routine. He didn't skip one moment when he was supposed to be practicing the backstroke. He was determined to master it once and for all—and to be good enough to swim that stroke competitively.
At first, he kept this to himself. But after a while he decided, Hey, I know the kids on the team well enough by now. I can talk to them about it.
So he did.
“Maybe it's because of the pause,” suggested Lars. “You know, the way you have to just hold for a second at the end of a complete stroke of both arms. You don't really do that with any other stroke, so it seems funny.”
“You're not afraid of sinking, are you?” asked Wayne. “Some kids have a real fear of going under on their backs.”
Ace Willoughby offered this idea. “Just imagine that you're the leader of the pack and everyone wants to be able to see your ugly mug. Can't do that when you're facedown in the water.”
That broke everyone in the locker room up. No really good pointers followed.
Jerry decided that he could learn a lot by keeping an eye on the best backstrokers on the team. There was no doubt that Lars and Wayne were on top of that list. Number three, he discovered from checking out the season's record, was Tony Kendrix. There was no way he'd beat out those guys. But he had to go after a spot on the backstroke roster. He had to make his mark on the toughest part of swimming for him.
Tony never said anything about all the work Jerry was doing on the backstroke. He was willing to do laps with him or to check out his drills on every stroke. Mostly, it seemed to Jerry, he liked working out on the freestyle.
“I'm not interested in the five hundred,” Tony confessed. “I mean, I'd do it if the coach wanted me to. But I think I'm better on the shorter distances.”
“Like the fifty freestyle?” asked Jerry.
“Uh huh,” said Tony. “And one hundred and the two.”
“Right,” Tony nodded. “And the backstroke. I think that's where I can really do the team some good.”
Jerry didn't say anything about that. Deep down, he was glad Tony wasn't interested in the five hundred. But he hated the idea of competing with him in the backstroke. Tony had been a pal from the beginning. He might have quit swimming altogether if it hadn't been for Tanya and Tony. And now he might have to go directly up against one of them.