Never Ever

22| Piece of meat

With a noticeable heaviness in his shoulders, Noah leads the three other swimmers to their places. I lean forward in my seat, watching intently as he lifts himself onto his starting block, legs and torso trembling with fatigue.

He seems off tonight, and not just because of the black eye. The last time Noah swam, he had this air of confidence that felt contagious, the kind that made it seem as if anything was possible, but tonight, he's like somebody else.

It's not unusual for swimmers to look nervous before a fight. I'd seen my fellow teammates puking on occasion and even grow lightheaded, but something about the way Noah's acting feels different to pre-meet nerves.

Maybe he's concussed. His eye looks painful, the swelling beneath it red and plump, which means whatever – whoever – caused that bruise only did so in the last few hours.

My anxiety kicks up a notch as, one by one, I take in the muscular, lithe bodies of the other three, searching their limbs for evidence of a fight. Like pre-meet nerves, getting into it with your teammates is also not unusual.

Every swimmer knows that tensions run high the hours before a meet, which means the slightest infractions, no matter how innocent, can lead to locker room arguments and bust-ups. But the rest of the team remains seemingly unscathed, which means if Noah fought with someone today, it wasn't another teammate. That's something, at least.

In my head, I'm thinking, you know what that means, but I refuse to listen to it, instead pretending the reason for Noah's eye is something completely innocent.

As though he hears me thinking, he looks over. It's as if seeing me still sitting here is enough to ease his shoulders a little, but it only lasts a moment. By the time he's turned to the pool again, his smile is nowhere to be found.

"Poor Noah," Addy says, leaning forward on her knees. "The optimist in me wants to believe he ran into a wall, but something tells me that's not the case. Who d'you think hit him?"

I shrug because the optimist in me wants to believe the same thing. The realist in me, however, knows the truth. And the truth? Not pretty. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

I close my eyes as the crowd closes in on me, imagining myself in Noah's place, overcome by those same pre-meet nerves. Not letting them get the best of you was always the hardest, but somehow, they'd dissipate the second the gun rang. Please be the case for Noah.

"I'm so nervous for them," Addy says, "Jesse told me this meet is super important for their future, so I can only imagine how they feel."

I can't imagine why. The Calbears, with their several wins these past few weeks, are top of the leaderboard, and while they'd lost their first meet of the season to the Tigers, it wasn't enough to impact their shiny reputation. All losing this meet would do is briefly dent their pride.

To avoid looking too invested, I run a hand through my hair and briefly check my watch. "What's important about it?"

Addy shrugs, lifting her hand to her hair in a move that causes her bracelets to jangle. Her curls this evening are a little unruly, which suggests she spent the afternoon rendezvousing with Jesse. When she struggles to tame them, she sighs and gives up. "He says Noah is slacking as captain. He thinks if they lose this meet, Coach might replace Noah altogether."

My heart sinks. Jumbled feelings for Noah aside, I can't help but feel sorry for him. I know how it feels to crumble under pressure, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Turning to the pool again, I find myself gripping the seat. I feel almost guilty for wanting the Calbears to win – I've known Peter longer, and he's the reason I'm even alive – but as I lean forward, it's Noah I'm rooting for.