One Cold Morning

The sun was just coming over the darkened tree line to the East, the first frigid rays of light setting the frost-glistened fields ablaze with countless prism-like rainbows. The campus was quiet and still, the day-schoolers having gone home for the weekend and the boarding students still asleep in their dorms.

A lone figure interrupted the placidity of the landscape, trudging silently along the walk that led to the Hawkins Building, which housed the pool. Fourteen year-old Danica Loumark shifted the small duffle bag from her shoulder to her hand as she climbed the front steps. Inside the bag was only a ratty old towel, two small travel-size vials of shampoo & body wash, and her swimsuit. She had learned of the open spot on the varsity swim team just yesterday, at lunch, and had no time to prepare. She had gotten no sleep during the night either, succeeding only in mussing her bed while she tossed & turned, wrestling with the idea of trying out. Surely she was not a strong enough swimmer to compete with the varsity girls; she was convinced that she would only end up embarrassing herself by trying out. She should just go home. Danica had always been a very good swimmer, but had not competed in nearly two years. She was terrified of making a fool of herself, and was all set to turn around and return to her dorm, but because they had found some Senior to be academically ineligible, she knew they were desperate to fill the void. Maybe they were as desperate as she was.

Danica crested the top of the steps and reached out for the door handle. Somewhere in her pessimistic mind, she was prepared to turn back because she was certain the door would be locked; she was already consoling herself with the comforting thought of returning to bed.

But the door did open, so Danica walked inside.

The lobby was just as deserted and silent as the rest of the campus. She had never been inside the Hawkins Building, and her first instinct was to bolt, to go back to her dorm and bury herself under a mountain of blankets, lest she get lost within the bowels of this building.

Danica grimaced at her own cowardice and tried urging herself on. She was well aware of the law of Inertia, where an object at rest tends to stay at rest, so to keep from being rooted to the lobby floor she moved down a hallway, even if she was unsure precisely where it led. Now was not the time to panic; how difficult would it be to find the pool when the entire building was a natatorium? The smell of chlorine was strong inside this building; she could just follow her nose, undoubtedly.

There were signs on the walls that clearly led her to the girls’ locker room. Danica paused outside the door and listened; there was the murmur of voices and the quiet hiss of the showers. Danica took a deep breath, held it, fought the increasing urge to run, and opened the door.

Inside the cold locker room the first rays of sun softly permeated the heavy steam from the showers. One lanky girl with a rat’s nest of blonde ringlets tied back in a bun sat alone on the wooden bench in front of the lockers. All the other girls were evidently in the showers already. The lone girl did nothing to indicate she was aware of Danica’s presence as she quickly undressed.

Danica hung back by the door and grimaced; she was late, damn it! She pressed her back against the door and might have actually left if it hadn’t closed behind her when she had walked in. More than anything she hated being late – despised it. The very thought of all eyes upon her as she entered a room made her want to crawl under a rock. And what if the room was full and there were no seats available? Oh, the horror!
She needn’t have worried; there was plenty of room on the bench.

The showers all shut off and six dripping girls walked out, gave Danica a look, and grabbed their towels on their way to the pool.

Danica clenched her teeth and colorfully swore inside her head; now the others had seen her, and she would feel like the biggest weenie if she left. But maybe that weenie feeling would be better than the tight sensation slowly gaining density in her gut. She wanted desperately to be anywhere else in the world; what the hell was she doing there, anyway?
She didn’t think about it; she plunked herself down on the bench and pulled off her boots.

It took less than ninety seconds for Danica to change into her swimsuit. She then followed the blonde girl into the showers and through the door that led to the pool itself.

Inside, there were only a handful of girls – eight, including Danica – vying for that one roster spot. The massive room was dark and foreboding, with the wet slapping of her bare feet the only sound that carried to the ceiling high above. If the sun had fully risen yet, Danica couldn’t tell, because every one of the enormous windows had dark shades pulled all the way down.

Danica dropped her ratty towel next to her on one of the old, wooden bleacher seats and began stretching. As she did, she evaluated the competition: every one of the other girls was taller, and most had the well-defined body of a chiseled athlete, with powerful upper bodies that could undoubtedly pull them through the water with the effortlessness of a porpoise. Two girls had linebacker shoulders.

There was no sound, other than the faint dripping that fell from each girl’s shivering body and the occasional chattering of teeth. The water in the pool was a sheet of glass that moved not the slightest bit. A lazy mist hung directly above it, not particularly caring to move either. It served only to chill those who looked at it. Danica was lost in it when one of the far doors opened and a tall blonde woman strode in.

Jessica Veripuzo had been coach of the girls’ swim team for nearly fifteen years, and she carried with her a powerful air of authority. She instructed the girls to each take a spot on one of the eight starting platforms.

Danica was in lane 5. She bent way over and put her head to her knees, to stretch her hamstrings, but quickly peeked to her right, at the girl in lane 4. She dejectedly wondered if the girl had more than 2% body fat; probably not.
Oh, God.

“All right girls,” Coach Veripuzo addressed them in the clear, crisp voice of one who never needed to talk over people, “first, I want to thank the eight of you for coming here so early on a Saturday morning. It’s more than I expected, really.”

She gave a wry smile, “And probably more than I deserve.”

She allowed a few nervous chuckles before her voice sharpened, “The rules are straightforward enough: four laps, freestyle. First to finish gets the job. On my whistle.”

And like that the girls all took their ready positions. Danica looked down at the water below her, through the mist. Mist probably meant the water was warmer than the air temperature, but it looked absolutely arctic to Danica. She envisioned herself cramping upon impact with the water, and then dying of Hypothermia as she sunk to the bottom of the pool.

She tried pushing all negative thoughts from her mind and focusing on her primed legs; she needed an impressive start if she was to compete against these Herculean girls (all descendants from the lost city of Atlantis, most likely).

Curb the negativity!

The pristine stillness of the water was broken by a single droplet of water that fell from the chin of the girl in lane 6. Time seemed to slow for a moment as Danica focused on the tiny ripple it made. A single thought in her head pushed all others aside. No doubts, no second-guessing herself, just one thought, “What the hell? I can’t back down now.”

Coach Veripuzo blew hard on the whistle, a sharp, high-pitched blast that echoed for just a moment as Danica’s coiled legs fired like dual pistons and propelled her body away from the platform and into the water a good two feet farther than any other girl.