Coming Up for Air(5)

Then one day Coach Josh took me aside to say the Memphis Marines club swim team had recruited Roxy away from us. Her family, who by then understood Roxy was going places, agreed to move three hours away to Memphis. I cried when she left.

At first we kept in touch, texting every day, but the special treatment from the Marines made her snobby. My texts went unanswered. When I saw her at meets, she either laughed at my team or ignored me. 

Every time she'd beat one of my times, she'd brag about it online. Once, after I lost a race to her, she took a picture of me with a horrible look on my face and posted it with the caption: Second Place.

When I bowed out of the Speedo Grand Classic because I'd strained a hamstring, Roxy posted on "Maggie King knew she wouldn't be able to win. That's why she pulled out. She's scared!"

The next time I lost to her, she posted yet another unattractive picture with the tag: Runner Up.

Those pictures and their captions are on the Internet forever. She deleted them from her accounts so it doesn't look like she started them, but they're still out there. When I win races, I celebrate with my friends and hang my medals in my bedroom. I would never gloat.

Roxy's betrayal made me rage, and that's when Levi took my phone and unfriended and blocked her so I wouldn't see that crap anymore.

She did a number on me. I didn't have many friends because of my practice schedule, and after that I was pretty wary of new people, especially other girls in my swim club.

I didn't blame Roxy for moving on to a team she thought would be a better fit for her, but I felt betrayed. I'd put myself out there for her. If it weren't for me, she wouldn't have gotten the training to become one of the best swimmers in Tennessee. Not to mention, she has about ten thousand more Twitter followers than I do and people love her Instagram account. Some of her pictures get hundreds of likes.

And now? When we race against each other, she usually outswims me, even though I'm better at backstroke than she is. I know I am. My times kill hers. But it doesn't matter how fast you are if your mind isn't in the right place. Whenever I compete against Roxy, she gets in my head, and I can't get her out. Of all the strokes, 200 backstroke is my best chance of getting an Olympic trials cut. Unfortunately, it's her best event too.

It would've been nice to have had some warning Roxy would be here, but I haven't been friends with her on Facebook or Twitter in a while. I will admit I spy from time to time, but I haven't in a few months.

I text Levi to tell him what's up, that Roxy's here, that I don't want to go to college with her, that I'm terrified she'll spaz me out at our meets this spring and I won't qualify to compete at the Olympic trials. I really, really don't want to go to Cal with her.

He replies: Enough. You're better than her. When you get home, we'll figure this out. Got it?

I type, Got it.

Levi already has an Olympic trial cut in 200 breaststroke-he got it last summer at a meet in Jacksonville. In June, he will compete for a spot on the US Olympic team. Only about a hundred people in the entire country will qualify in each stroke, so it's amazing Levi's got a spot in 200 breast. He's hoping to qualify for the trials in 100 breast and freestyle too.

Me? I don't have cuts in any stroke yet.

Going to the Olympics has been a dream for a long time. When I was eight years old, an elite swimmer named Allison Schmitt spoke to my club team about her career. She was still in high school but had hopes of making the next Olympic team-and then she did. I remember watching her on TV that summer, thinking, wow, I met her. And wow, I want to do that too. To walk out onto the pool deck in front of cheering fans and the entire world, and swim my heart out to win. Because I love winning.


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Since I haven't qualified for the trials yet, I don't have any illusions I'll make this year's Olympic team, but Allison didn't win gold at her first Olympics. All her training built and built over the years, and it paid off when she won at her second Olympics. That's what my goal is: to train and train until I win the biggest race there is.

And Cal-Berkeley is the next step on the path to winning.

I slip my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, then make my way over to Roxy. "Hi," I tell her, and when she doesn't respond or make any effort to introduce me to the man she's talking to, I thrust a hand toward him. "I'm Maggie King."

His face lights up. "I'm Alan Watts, the athletic director. Maggie, I can't tell you how thrilled we are you chose Cal."

"Thank you, sir."

"Coach Pierson mentioned the swim team has a meet in Michigan this weekend, right?"