Sink or Swim
“JAMIE EVANS.”
Oh no. Please no.
Please tell me that Coach Cafferty did NOT just say my name. Not for that event. Not the one-hundred-meter breaststroke. Except all eyes were turned to me when she announced it, and her eyes met mine over the clipboard that held the list of events and swimmers for the Plain Township Aquatic Center meet. The PTAC meet was the first of the season, and I was not ready.
Sweat broke out over my upper lip. Of course, that might have been from the humidity of the pool hall.
Whispers arose from the bleachers where Callie and her friends sat. I didn’t have to guess what they were laughing at.
Morgan pressed her elbow into my side, trying to offer me moral support. It didn’t help. My stomach sank to my knees like a brick in water, and no amount of treading was going to bring it back.
Coach Cafferty finished the list of names, but I barely heard them or the whispered celebrations of swimmers who got their choice event.
