The classroom phone rang midlecture and Mr. Kingston walked to the wall and picked it up. He met my eyes as he talked. He nodded at me like I should know what was being said on the other end. When he hung up, he said, “Hadley, please gather your things and meet your coach in his office.”
I had only one coach, but I still said, “Coach Phillips?”
“Yes.”
As I shut my binder and stuffed it into my backpack, my heart picked up speed. I’d missed the awards banquet. Was this the time where I learned the consequences of that? Was he going to tell me I couldn’t swim next year? Take away a race from me? Lecture me about my irresponsibility? I had a good relationship with Coach but he was a coach—he expected a lot from us. I pushed myself to standing and slowly walked to the door.
Maybe this wasn’t even about the banquet at all. Maybe this was about how awful I’d swum in the relay. He was finally going to talk to me about that. Tell me how disappointed he’d been. Or maybe he knew how much my shoulders had been bugging me. He was going to tell me I shouldn’t be swimming at all.
I quickly retrieved my earbuds out of my pocket and turned on my music. It helped drown out my thoughts but didn’t seem to calm my heart.
When I finally made it to his office, I was convinced I was going to die of a heart attack. I knocked on the glass. He looked up from his desk and waved me in. His face was stone, like always, giving away nothing.
He pointed to the chair in front of his desk.
I didn’t want to sit. If I sat, he would talk.
I sat. Coach was tall, really tall. And sitting in front of him like this made him seem even taller.
He gestured to his ears.
Oh. My music.
I yanked on the cord and the earbuds fell to my lap, leaving a ringing buzz in their place.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “I haven’t seen you out at the pool lately.”
“I’ve been busy. I’m starting club swim next week, though. I’m committed.”
He smiled. “I know.” He turned on his spinning chair to the cabinet behind him and picked up a padded orange envelope, bringing it back to the desk between us. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I know I can be annoying. I’ll work on that.”
“Hadley. Do you think you’re in trouble?”
“I don’t know.”
He laughed. “You’re not in trouble. Relax.”
He said it, but I couldn’t force myself to do it. He opened the envelope and pulled out a plaque. The outline of a swimmer was etched into the wood and below the swimmer was a gold square. Something was etched there as well but I couldn’t make it out. He slid the plaque across the desk until it rested in front of me.
“Congratulations.”
“What is it?”
“I know you couldn’t make it to the awards banquet because of the event for your brother, so you get it today.”
“I won an award? For what?”
“For being annoying,” he said.
“What?”
“A joke. It’s for being my most dedicated swimmer on the team. You ready to swim four races next year?”
“Really?”
“Really.”
My heart wasn’t going to survive the workout I was putting it through today. “Thank you!”
“Thank you. I mean it. Like I told the team at the ceremony the other night, you are what commitment looks like. I’m proud of you. I wish you could’ve been there to get recognized in front of everyone, but I understand.”
“Amelia didn’t tell me about this.”
“I asked the team not to tell you. I wanted to be the first.”
I gripped the plaque, staring at the words etched into the gold: Coach’s Award. Dedication and Commitment. Hadley Moore. “I wish my mom knew I was winning an award. Then we would’ve been there for sure.”
“I talked to your mom.”
“I know, but she just thought it was a team requirement and I told her that usually only seniors win the awards.”
He took off his baseball cap and ran his hand back and forth over his short hair, then replaced the cap. He seemed to decide against whatever he had been thinking about saying and handed me the now-empty envelope. “Congratulations.”
That’s when I realized what he wasn’t saying. “You told her.”
“Maybe she didn’t understand. I should’ve explained it better.”
“You told her about this award? That I was winning it?”
He nodded.
I started to make excuses for my mom. “It’s tradition . . . this thing for my brother. . . .” I trailed off when I saw the pity in his eyes. “Never mind.” I stood so fast that the chair fell over. I scrambled to pick it up, dropping the envelope. It slid beneath the chair I’d just righted. I grabbed it and made for the door. “Thanks for this.”
“Hadley—” he said, but I had already left. The shutting door cut off however he was going to finish that sentence.
My eyes stung. I just needed to get out of there, I thought as I walked as quickly as I could away from the office, trying to figure out where I could go. I made it out of the gym and around one corner before I slammed into Jackson. The award, the envelope, and I went flying backward. The clatter of metal bouncing along cement had me searching the ground where I had landed.
“Are you everywhere?” I growled.
“Moore. I’m sorry.” He held out his hand to help me up.
I picked up the plaque and saw the gold plate that spelled out the distinction was missing. It sat by Jackson’s foot. He bent over and picked it up.
“Nice,” he said, after reading it. “Congrats.”
I ripped it from his hand, scooped up the envelope where it had landed, and shoved the two now separate pieces of my award inside. Then I left. Of course he followed me.
“I’m trying to understand you, Moore.”
“Stop.”
“You hate me.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
He laughed. “Wow. I thought you’d deny it, but that was definitely not a denial. That was probably the furthest thing from a denial I’ve ever heard. Why don’t you like me?”
“Why do you care?” I asked quite suddenly.
He shrugged like he really didn’t.
My heart was pumping and my head was spinning and I just wanted Jackson out of my face. “You want to know why, Jackson? Why people like me don’t like people like you?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Because you’re a goof-off. You do nothing. Life is a joke to you. You just sail through it. All you think about is yourself and what you need to do to make people look at you. I work hard. Every day. And I try my best and I push myself in everything I do so they’ll notice me and do you know who still gets all the attention? Who everybody talks about? Who everyone is still more proud of and happier with and can’t forget about? Who everybody loves the most? You, Eric.” I stopped and swallowed hard. “I mean, Jackson. You . . .”
He had gone silent. I swiped at the tears that were trailing down my face, mad that I hadn’t been able to hold them back for a few more minutes. Then I turned and fled. I didn’t make it far before I couldn’t see through the blurriness. Worried I was going to run into a wall, I turned a corner and pressed my back against the building. If I had thought now was the time Jackson would grow up and leave me alone, I was mistaken.
He rounded the corner a few seconds after me.
“Please don’t,” I said.
For once he looked serious, somber. “I promise I’ll leave if you want me to, but is there anything I can do? Do you want me to go get Amelia? Or call your parents?”
I shook my head no.
“Could you use someone to cry on? I think I’m good at that. I wore an extra absorbent sweater today.” He opened his arms like he expected me to melt into them. When I didn’t, he said, “How about a different offer, then?” He pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “The bell is about to ring and these halls are going to fill with people. My car, you remember it, the classic, is a great place to cry. I know it doesn’t have music, but it does have doors that can close people out. Even me if you want. Or I can drive you to a completely new location. I won’t even talk.”
My tears started anew. Why was he choosing now to be thoughtful? I had just yelled mean, awful things at him, and he stood there offering me salvation. I nodded.
“Yes?”
“Please.”
He held out his hand like a question and I took it. I could still hardly see, so I was glad he was guiding me. Like he’d warned, the bell rang. He brought me closer and put his arm around me. I hid my face against his shoulder, hoping nobody would know it was me. We made it to the parking lot without anyone calling out to me. I hoped that was a good sign. He unlocked the door to his car with his weird two-lefts-and-one-right-turning method and opened it wide. I dropped all my stuff onto the passenger-side floor and practically dived inside. He shut the door behind me. I laid my head on the seat and let it all out.