Where We Stand

7 | Where We Stand

Chapter 7

There are two reasons why I love swimming competitions:

1. Aiden

2. Hot shirtless guys. YUM.

I knew there was something fishy going on when Mrs. Davis told us our next community service would be on a Friday, a school day. We couldn't work for six hours if we began after classes. The session would have to be completed on Saturday. Either that or there was something else going on. I was right.

On Monday, it was announced Winterside High would be holding a swimming competition on Friday mid-morning against St. Bernard Secondary and Technical School. Entertainment would be involved, including speeches, a parade and a short play from both schools. It was an impromptu announcement, a last-minute decision by our principals in an attempt to promote unity between our schools. Mrs. Davis figured it would be a perfect opportunity for us to clean toilets.

I spent five agonizing hours scrubbing tiles, flushing toilets, mopping floors, filling soap dispensers and cleaning sinks until Carlos barged into the girls' toilet and told me there was no way we were going to miss out on Aiden's race.

Seven minutes later, we're peering through the entrance of the pool court. My eyes skim through the crowd, searching for Aiden across the pool. There are too many people blocking my view and the most I can get is a strip of blue. I spot Charlotte Muller's head moving in my direction. I pull back in haste, a gasp at my mouth. Carlos sees the horror in my face and points back at the stairs, eyebrows raised in question. Should we call it quits? He seems to say. I shake my head, count to ten and peep again.

There is no way Charlotte would see me at such a distance and with so many people in the court, she probably spotted a friend or looked my way through mere coincidence. No need to panic, Naomi. It's not like Mom can get any angrier, I tell myself.

I haven't responded to a single text my mother has sent me this week nor have I picked any calls from her. I've been staying at Dad's apartment and while he hasn't questioned my odd behaviour, he knows something is up. I know my Dad is just giving me time to calm down and tell him what happened when I'm ready. I know a part of him is glad to have me at his house. But sooner or later, he's going to make me talk.

I find Charlotte still in the same place. Her back is turned to us. Just as I thought, she is clueless to our presence.

"Mrs. Davis is on patrol," Carlos says from the other side of the entrance. "She's standing near the hotdog stand."

I follow his directions and see our assistant head mistress. Her eyes are narrowed to slits as she glowers at the crowd, head jerked back and forth like a guard on the prowl for a thief. She must be looking for troublemakers. By some twisted luck, Tora Kobayashi's parents find her and stop to greet her. Her face makes a radical transformation: brow smoothening, mouth pulling into a gentle smile, eyes glimmering with kindness—the epitome of friendliness. That woman is scary.

The commentator announces the freestyle round is about to start in two minutes. This isn't working. With so many people blocking my view, I can't see anything and standing by the entrance is a guaranteed way to get caught.

"We can't stay here," I say, brushing a stray curl from my eye. "Too risky."

Carlos walks to my side and darts his gaze at the hallway behind us. "I know a place with a better view..." His brown eyes pause on me, a lop-sided grin playing at his lips. "...but not as great as what's in front of me."

My face twists into a frown. "Lead the way, you moron."

His hand shoots out, two fingers tapping my forehead in the briefest of seconds. I feel a jolt of warmth branching out from the point of contact, spreading over my face. I jerk away, force my face to become unreadable.