Swim team

I don’t know what freestyle is. I take the name to heart and literally freestyle my way through the pool. So, while my teammates dutifully paddle back and forth, waving their hands in a monotonous motion, I jump, flip, and dive through the pool. Sometimes I dive to the bottom, then launch my feet like a springboard and explode into the air. Eventually, I catch my breath, by floating on my back and staring up into the cavernous ceiling. The whistles and yells of coaches and children echo faintly in my ear, until the water beckons me back into the deep. 

I run across the deck, the grooves leaving indentations on the soles of my feet. I eye one of the coaches fighting for their life against children desperate to push them in. I join the fray, all of us tugging and pushing and willing this coach to go falling down to the depths of the pool. I grab an arm and pull with all my strength, feeling the coach struggle against me. Next thing I know, the water is rushing toward me, and I plummet into the waves. My scream gets cut off as I am submerged, dull splashes following my descent. Everything is blurry and blue. My hands and legs move on their own accord, driving me to the surface. I emerge sputtering, looking around, only to see the coach has not succumbed. They are still holding off droves of gleeful children. I cut through the water, clamber back onto the deck, and join the frenzy once again. 

BEEP. I dive into the pool. My body is racing, racing against time and space and its own limitations. My arms cut through the water like knives. Similar to a shark, honing in on its prey, I zero in on the finish line. My lungs burn and my legs scream but still I go on. Nothing matters except that moment, that race, that victory. A tsunami appears behind my feet, conjuring white water. There, I can see it. The pearly white wall. I push even harder, grabbing handfuls of water then flinging it away. Closer, closer, closer, BAM. I slap my palm against the wall, and seize the lip of the concrete. A breeze whizzes over me as my teammate flies through the air and continues the relay. Panting, I lift myself out of the water, take a breath, and begin cheering. 

I slowly wade through the water. The sky is a black sheet, punctuated by the moon. The pool lights glow eerily underwater, and I turn away from the spidery trees, leering in the night. Stopping at the end of the lane, I attempt to delay the inevitable exit from the pool. The familiar chill haunts me, spurs my hesitation, my fear. But the sky only grows darker, and the air only colder. Begrudgingly, I heave my body out of the warm liquid and onto the pavement. Immediately, the chill attacks my body. Goosebumps break out on my flesh, and my limbs tremble. Icy air pricks my body. I scurry over to my bag, while my teeth rattle in my jaw. I yank my fuzzy clothes over my skin. Then, I wrap myself in a parka and head for the car.