Wednesdays, we had classes in the morning, sports in the afternoon. I’d had trouble sleeping the night before, so I dozed off after lunch and woke in time to rush to the pool. The other guys were already there, standing in a pack around Coach. I made my way to the back of the group. Water lapped at the sides of the pool and threw squiggly reflections up on the ceiling.
Coach made a mark on the sheet and winked at me. “Okay, boys, let’s see what you’ve got. Front crawl, ten lengths to warm up. Nice and steady. Go.”
Like always, the Sharks were first in the water. We lined up behind them, pacing ourselves a few body lengths apart. As recently graduated pond scum, and because I had been late to the pool, I was one of the last in line, just behind Red Cap. The tile floor was dry and gripped my bare feet. It only felt like that when the pool had been empty for a while.
My turn. My toes grabbed the rounded edge of the pool. I dove in, shallow and easy, then broke into a measured, even front crawl, pacing myself to the rest of the group.
The pace was too slow for me. I wanted to work harder, to push ahead. I forced myself to keep it steady and to focus on form. But thoughts kept creeping into my head.
Steven wasn’t likely to tell me anything. But what about the other Sharks? What if I asked one of them about the party Marcus was at three years ago? Nothing that would scare anyone off, just a little prodding. I could pretend I was nervous because of our own upcoming party.
Which Shark though? I ran through them in my head. Most of them did whatever Steven asked. And Nate hadn’t even made the team that year.
But maybe he had heard rumors. He had less at stake than the others.
At the wall, I dove under and turned.
I had my plan.
After practice, I waited around for Nate outside the athletics building. He had his hands in his pockets, and he raised one eyebrow when he saw me. “Don’t tell me you want backstroke pointers.”
I grinned and fell in beside him. “I wanted to ask you about the initiation party,” I said. “Someone said it was at your house.”
“Unlikely,” he said. “I’m not sure who’s hosting this year. Whoever’s parents go away first, right?”
“Ha.” I scuffed fallen leaves with my sneakers, trying to work out how to lead the conversation where I needed it to go.
“So who shows at these things? Do we bring dates?”
“Pond scum don’t,” he said. “Not unless you want your dates to see you…well, let’s just say you probably don’t want that.” His turn to grin.
“Ah. You fill me with confidence. So, will Coach be there? Is it best behavior until he leaves, or what?”
Nate shook his head. “Coach is cool. He’ll show, but he won’t stay long.”
“Is that what happened at the party three years ago?” I asked.
Nate stopped walking. I winced. Too blunt.
“Who told you about that?” he asked.
“The guys.” I shrugged. “I was just wondering if Coach was there.”
Nate straightened. I’m not exactly short, but he towered over me. He took his hands out of his pockets and didn’t look so easygoing anymore. “You don’t want to go asking questions about what happened that night.”
Something in my face must have worried him. He let out a phony-sounding laugh and clapped me on the back. “Relax. It’s just, no point digging up bad memories, right? Anyhow, Coach wasn’t there. Not by the time things got going.”
“Right,” I said. So Nate didn’t know. Maybe it was time he did. I studied him, deciding whether to trust him. “What if he was though? What if I have proof?”
Nate’s eyes lingered on my face. “Then, for the good of the team, I suggest you lose it.”