SoakedAileen could hear the constant hum of girls’ chatter even before she opened the door to the pool deck. Even though she was clad only in a swimsuit and her hair was still dripping from the showers, Aileen was pleasantly warm in the thick, steamy atmosphere. The gentle trickle of pool water sloshing in the gutters was familiar and soothing. She lifted her nose and sniffed, though she didn’t need to do so to be aware of the constant odor of chlorine. Aileen learned to appreciate the smell, as a pool without enough chlorine was usually disgusting to swim in, and the other chemical commonly used in pools (bromine) was itchy and salty tasting.
Nervously she took her first steps onto the warm tile of the deck. A large rectangle of aqua blue was the first thing to catch her attention. It was striped with lane lines sporting the purple and gray colors of Clarity High School. “Mustang Swimming and Diving” was painted in peeling violet letters across the far white wall. In a town famous for its large lake and clean beaches, it was a wonder more attention wasn’t paid to the high school swim teams. Through experience, Aileen knew that not many found watching people swim back and forth in a pool very exciting, but to her it was everything. She hoped that by joining the swim team she’d get to know some older people and other girls her age as she entered the high school as a freshman. Well, at least her father hoped she would. To Aileen, a pool was a pool and any excuse to swim and hone her skills was good enough for her.
But as she neared the group of fifty or so girls on the bleachers, chatting and laughing together, she wasn’t so sure. Everybody seemed to have somebody, or their own little group, to talk to. No one gave her a second look, and Aileen felt hopelessly lost until she heard a high pitched “Ail-lee! Over here over here!” Waving her arms (in a way that could be regarded as humorous but at the moment was socially crippling) was Kayla, from behind a group of girls. Some of the upperclassmen gave her annoyed looks, while others snickered and whispered to their friends. Aileen tried to ignore them and hurried over to her friend, only to find her path blocked by a tall, stocky woman in a white T-shirt and too-big sweatpants.
Stern brown eyes looked Aileen up and down before the figure barked, “Freshy, you’re late!” in a deep, barely feminine voice. Aileen froze for an instant, until the blonde-haired woman violently pointed to the bleachers, and Aileen then darted over to take a seat. “Perhaps you’re not familiar with my swim team dear,” the coach addressed Aileen, but her words were for the entire team, “But when I run the sport, I expect every one of you to arrive on time and be suited up on the bleachers at precisely four o’clock.” The woman pointed to the clock above their heads for emphasis, her ponytail bobbing so vigorously Aileen wondered how the navy blue scrunchy could hold it in place.
“Punctuality. Commitment. I expect that from all of you, especially the upperclassmen,” she nodded her head at the older girls, “It’s your job to show the freshmen how things are done around here.” The coach strode up and down the bleachers until she stood in front of Aileen and the rest of the younger girls. “For those of you who don’t know, I am Coach Connie. From this point forward you will refer to me as ‘Coach’ or ‘Ms. Erickson’ but under no circumstances may you call me Connie-until you earn the privilege,” she said with a wink towards the veteran swimmers, who grinned back. Oh, how they loved the hardships freshmen were always put through! Aileen, for her part, didn’t think much of “Coach’s” speech. She had received many of them like it throughout her years on and off different teams. The only thing that bothered her was the apparent fact that Ms. Erickson had no sense of humor. Even Coach Bill had cracked a joke once in a while. Aileen paid little attention to the rest of the speech until she heard Coach bark at them to get in the water.
“What do you think?” whispered Kayla as they moved with that mass of girls towards the pool.
Aileen shrugged. “Of Coach Connie? Nothing we haven’t dealt with before, I think she talks more than she needs to.”
Kayla giggled. “That’s for sure,” she said, rolling her eyes as Coach began yapping out a warm-up for the older girls.
“All right, kiddie-pops,” drawled Connie as she strolled over to the group of eight or so freshmen, huddled in a group. “You get these two lanes here in the shallow end. Well what are you waiting for? Get in!” There was a frantic scruffling as girls struggled to put on their swim caps and adjust their goggles. Others yelped as they slid into the cold water. Aileen smiled to herself as she watched some girls-completely new to swimming-stood there dumbfounded, wondering how in heck their little rubber caps were supposed to fit over their heads. Coach was oblivious to this though, as she patrolled the lanes in the deeper end of the pool, making sure no one was “slacking,” as she put it.
Kayla kindly offered to help some of the girls, as Aileen bent over to wet her own cap in the pool. Just as she was stretching it over her head, the cap snapped. Aileen held the two pieces of rubber in both hands, silently cursing. It was an old cap though, and she had extras in the locker room. Aileen hustled back and pulled one out of her swim bag, after much digging and searching. By the time she had the new cap on and was out on the pool deck, all the other girls were already in the water, and Coach was waiting for her.
“Where were you Freshy?” she snapped, hands on hips.
“My cap-“ began Aileen, stumbling for words.
“Difficulties with putting on your cap is no excuse for taking up so much time!” Coach practically shrieked into Aileen’s face. “There are plenty of competent girls out here you could have asked for help-but no, you decided to do it your own way! Well, here on the Mustang Swim Team, we are just that-a TEAM! If one individual can’t be successful in such a simple task, then the whole group suffers! An extra five hundred yards for the newbies today,” she added with a smirk of satisfaction.
Humiliated and beat red, Aileen jumped into the nearest lane and tried not to look at the other girls. She wasn’t really bothered by the extra five hundred yards, it was how Coach didn’t seem to think she was a competent swimmer at all. She thinks I’m just a beginner, Aileen thought, troubled. She’s not even giving me a chance.
None of the other girls spoke to or even looked at Aileen for the rest of practice that day. She was the screw-up, she realized. She will be the butt of all of Coach’s complaints for the rest of the year. What a way to start out high school, she thought to herself.
The practice was easy. Too easy, Aileen thought, annoyed. This was for beginners, and she was no beginner. Soon she began feeling antsy. She was the last person in her lane, and she had to deliberately slow down to avoid running into the girl in front of her during sets. Finally, during their two hundred cool-down at the end of practice, Aileen decided to just up and pass her. The girl wouldn’t move out of her way, however, and Aileen just barely squeezed by. Unfortunately, the other girl was kicked in the process.
“Ow!” she yelped, as she stood up in the chest deep water, clutching her cheek.
“FRESHY!” screeched Coach from the deck. “Back to the wall!” Before she even had a chance to apologize, Aileen glided back to the wall, where she lingered under Coach’s angry gaze.
“So…you think you can just pass up anybody during practice, do you? Want to show the girls up because you think you’re so fast? Well, you can show the whole team! Clear lane three, please!” she cried out to the girls in that lane. “Freshy here has a Discipline Swim!”
The girls laughed and cleared the pool. Discipline Swims, evidently, were a hit amongst the team. Nervously, Aileen pulled herself out of the pool and walked, still dripping, up to lane three. The air didn’t feel so warm anymore, and her stomach clenched with nerves.
Coach smirked at her, and gestured for Aileen to get up on the block. “You have a minute and twenty seconds to swim one hundred yards, if you don’t make it, you get to clean up the pool deck and locker room for a week, and also do your choice of one hundred sit ups or fifty push ups. Usually it’s a minute-ten, but I’ll go easy on you.” The veterans snickered, as it was well known few first time swimmers got under a minute-forty their first time swimming a hundred.
“On my signal,” stated Coach, a stopwatch in one hand, the other bringing her whistle to her mouth. Aileen crouched forward on the block, gripping the edge with her fingers. Some of the girls muttered in surprise, no one had taught the freshmen yet how to properly start a race.
“Ready….” TWEET! went the whistle, and Aileen was off.
She kicked as hard as she could, her skinny pale arms pulling the water around her, her cap nearly coming off in the progress. All the frustration and humiliation she endured that day she determined to burn off in that last swim.
On her last yard she thrust out her arm and ducked her head for a well-trained finish. Gasping for air and spitting highly chlorinated water from her nose and mouth, Aileen glanced up at the faces around her, and was surprised to see them staring down at her quietly, and with respect. No one made a sound. From the water, Aileen looked up at Coach. She wasn’t even looking at Aileen, but Ms. Erickson gazed thoughtfully at the stopwatch in her hand. “Fifty-three thirty-seven,” she mused aloud.
Not my best, thought Aileen as she hauled herself out of the pool. Water dripped everywhere as she pulled off her goggles with a sucking-sound. The rest of the team remained silent, and even appeared slightly awed as they backed away from Aileen with newfound respect.
“Everyone to the showers!” hollered Coach. “Practice is over!” As the girls filed off to the locker room, Aileen went back to her old lane to retrieve her water bottle Her face was flushed for the second time that afternoon, but for a different reason. Aileen’s arms flopped at her sides like noodles and her lungs ached with every breath. She didn’t want to see Coach while she was in this condition, but as she turned towards the locker room she glanced over her shoulder. Coach was watching her, and as they made eye contact she nodded with approval.
“You’ll do, Freshy,” was all she said. “You’ll do."
