I will be late to school, but whatever Coach has to say is more important than whatever I'll learn in my Tennessee history class.
Coach leads me to his office, which is full of shiny trophies and pictures of athletes on the walls. His desk is covered by a massive swim calendar that covers the entire year. A large red circle is drawn around March 26th, the date of the Junior Nationals Club Championship in Huntsville, the first long course meet. That's when our season gets serious. The other two long course meets prior to the Olympic Trials, the Atlantic Classic in April and the Spring Spotlight in May, are also circled. Those three meets are my final chances to get an Olympic trial cut.
///
I take a seat in the cushy chair across from Coach's desk. "What's up?"
Coach clicks his pen on and clicks it off. "Levi told me you saw Roxy this weekend."
"Shit," I say under my breath.
"Were you going to tell me?"
"I handled it fine," I say, but I can tell he doesn't believe that, thanks to his quizzical look. He knows me probably as well as my parents and Levi.
Coach slips his pen behind his ear. "So you'll be going to college with her?"
"Looks like it. Ugh." I bury my face in my hands.
"It's not surprising," Coach says. "You're both good enough to get into the best swimming school in the country."
"I wish I'd known before I signed with them."
"Did Roxy bother you?" Coach asks.
"No, not really. She didn't seem to want to talk to me."
Coach sighs and adjusts his visor. "Just remember, you're a better swimmer than her. Your record's stronger. Don't let her get to you."
I always try to maintain a strong and steady pace, but when I see Roxy going faster than me out of the corner of my eye, I go too fast and burn myself out early in the race. Coach keeps telling me my times are better than hers. And he's right. When I'm not up against her, I swim faster. So I know it's all in my head.
I guess we'll find out for sure next month at the high school state championships.
• • •
I've been giving Levi the silent treatment all day.
Normally he and I are fine with quiet, but it's been hours since I've spoken to him, and he totally knows something's up. During study hall in our corner of the library, he side-eyes me as he reads his Harry Potter book.
"What gives?" he finally asks.
"Why'd you tell Coach about Roxy?" I complain.
"Because I knew you wouldn't."
"God!" I snap.
The librarian points a finger at me and goes, "Shhhhhhh!" like air leaking from a tire. Levi gives her a little wave, and she smiles because he's her best customer in the library.
"See, this is exactly why I told Coach," Levi says. "She spins you all out of shape. Last year you lost the damn high school championship to Roxy in 200 back, which is nothing compared to those long course races you won last summer."
I grumble. It's true. Roxy had a strained shoulder most of last summer and took some time off. Meanwhile I swam the best meets of my life. I set the Tennessee record for 200 back at the Summer Sizzler. Coach Josh and Levi are right to be worried, but their concern makes it feel like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Levi drops me off at my parents' business after weight lifting. I go inside King's Royal Engagements, the party planning business Mom started right out of college. The company is located in this fancy Victorian house down the street from where I live. Mom and Dad had massive kitchens built out back, so it's a full-fledged catering operation, and they do almost everything in-house. Their pastry chef even bakes wedding cakes.
When you first walk inside, there's a chic waiting room filled with books of fabric samples and suggested menus. A TV plays videos from weddings and anniversary parties. The flower arrangements are fake, but it mysteriously smells like roses in here.
I say hi to the receptionist and continue back to where Mom sits, passing by the offices of the junior event coordinators. Mom has a staff of six event designers, a director of marketing, an executive chef who we all call Chef, and a ton of kitchen staff. They cater two to three events every night of the week. Mom's the brains and the logistics behind the operation, while Dad is the creative arm.
He loves coming up with party themes and weird names for foods. For instance, he just planned a Broadway themed wedding. The programs looked like Playbills, and the wedding cake featured a red and gold marquee with the bride and groom's names. He even set up a photo area where guests could pretend they were walking the red carpet.