The six swimmers worked their way up and down the pool, arms drawing the water back as their legs flashed beneath the surface. Jerry had a little trouble seeing who was ahead. Wayne and Lars, swimming in lanes next to one another, were at least three feet ahead of the others.
At first, it looked as if Wayne had the lead. His muscular arms worked furiously, his shoulders knotted with exertion, dragging his body forward by their sheer power. But, then, Lars slipped ahead. His long arms parted the water in front of him in clean, regular strokes.
As they started the fourth and final lap, they were side by side, so close it was impossible for Jerry to see who was ahead. It really didn't matter. He just wanted one of them, clearly the two best swimmers in the pool, to be the winner.
“Come on, Lars! Come on, Wayne!”
He found himself shouting and cheering along with the other spectator swimmers.
People must think I'm nuts, he figured. I don't care. I just want to see the best one win!
And then it was over. In a final burst of speed, someone had touched the edge of the pool first. Coach Bob Fulton had been crouched right there in his white thongs, watching to see whose extended fingertip had made first contact with the tile.
Now, the coach stood up and blew his whistle for attention.
“The winner is — Lars Morrison!” he announced.
There was a scattering of applause from the stands. Lars and Wayne slapped high fives on each other. Then they splashed a little water in fun at the other guys and climbed out of the pool.
“So, what did you think?” asked Tanya.
Jerry had been so caught up in the race, he hadn't seen her come up beside him. She stood next to him carrying a jacket and an armful of books.
“It was okay,” he admitted. “Is that it? I mean, are there any more races?”
“No, we had a meet last Saturday, so Coach made it a light workout for the team today,” she said. “Some of the others will do some extra laps now, but I have a lot of homework. Are you ready to leave?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said.
As they left the pool area, he glanced back and saw Lars and Wayne. Both of them were thrashing their way through the water again. You couldn't even tell that they'd been in a race a few minutes ago. They really must love swimming, he thought. I don't get it.
Dr. Gold and Coach Fulton had agreed that Jerry should do his pool therapy only every other day. So he wasn't back in the pool until Wednesday after school.
As he got into his swimming trunks, he felt a little more at home than he had on Monday. He wondered whether there would be a regular team practice today. Who would be there? Both the guys and the girls? Would Tanya be swimming again? Would Lars? Wayne? And what was practice like, anyhow?
With those thoughts running through his head, he got into the water to begin his therapy. Therapy? Hah! It was a real workout. He was surprised to find his arms still hurt from Monday's laps. It sure was nothing like the warm-up exercises he'd done at baseball practice last year. Gee, they'd probably be getting set for spring training, and he'd be splashing around in a stinky old swimming pool.
“Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty! Done!”
He'd finished the last exercise. The pool was still empty. None of the members of the swim team had arrived for their practice yet. He was all alone in this big space, surrounded by the tiled walls, the wooden seats, the sunken lights, and the cool, green water. All he had left was his swimming laps.
As he swam up and down the pool in his usual lazy crawl, his arm muscles started to loosen up. His leg still hurt a bit, but it wasn't as bad as Monday. By the time he'd done four laps, he was feeling much better. And he was no longer alone. Several others were parting the waves in different lanes.
As Jerry pulled himself out of the water, he wondered if these swimmers felt like part of a team. Sure, they had uniforms and a great coach, but it wasn't the same thing as running out on the field with eight other guys at the start of the game. And warm-ups in baseball meant throwing the ball around with your teammates, not plowing through the water in your own lane. You won a game because your team worked like a well-oiled machine, each player doing his part. In swimming, the team members competed against one another!
Still, as Jerry toweled off, he could feel a kind of team spirit float over the water.
Yeah, but it's weird, Jerry thought. Why would anyone choose this sport over baseball or another team sport?
That got him thinking about baseball tryouts. They'd be starting any day now. He might not be able to join the team right away. But even Doc Gold had said he should be able to play later in the season. Maybe he could pinch-hit or fill in if someone got sick.
Jerry tried to push the image of himself sitting on the bench as far from his mind as possible. It was too painful to imagine waiting in vain for someone on the team to drop out.
“Hey, you're becoming a regular swimming fan!” The voice at his elbow startled him out of his gloomy thoughts.
“Well, I can't really play baseball yet,” he said. “It helps pass time.”
“You ought to think about swimming,” said Tanya. “I saw you doing your laps. You're not all that bad.”
“Laps? Oh, you mean my therapy.”
“Whatever you call it, I've seen worse,” she said.
“Yeah, well, I'll stick to my exercises,” he said. “That's what's going to get my leg back in shape so I can play baseball.”
But that Friday, after he had whipped through his routine exercises, he found himself looking forward to swimming his laps.
Coach Fulton came by and watched him do the first two runs back and forth. “Let's put a little more zip into it,” he called. “Get that blood circulating!”
Jerry tried to swim harder, but he didn't manage to go any faster.
When he climbed out of the pool, the coach was gone. He knew that there was another half hour before practice because he had checked the schedule outside the coach's office. As usual, a few early birds had arrived and started their warm-up on the other side of the pool. Tanya was one of them. She left a group of girls and came over to talk to him.
“Not bad,” she said. “Until the coach yelled at you and you choked.”
Despite the coolness of the water, Jerry's face burned.
“I didn't choke,” he protested.
“Yes, you did,” she said matter-of-factly. “You tried too hard and you got sloppy. I do it all the time. Everyone does. But I'm getting better.”
“I can see,” he said.
“You know what would really help me?”
“What?” he asked.
“If someone would swim with me when I do my extra practice,” she said. “I hate doing it alone. It feels strange being all by myself in the pool — not like competition. What do you think? Would you mind helping me out?”
“Me? Swim with you?”
“I'm not asking you to jump blindfolded off the high diving board,” she said. She took off her bathing cap and shook out her short blonde hair. “I'll just come by at the end of your therapy. We can do laps side by side, okay?”
“Well, okay, I guess so,” he said. “My exercises are getting real boring. Maybe doing the laps with someone will make my leg heal quicker.”
“Uh huh,” she said. “Just one more thing.”
“What's that?”
“Get a decent swimsuit,” she said, giggling.