Jenna Guillaume - The Deep End: Australia Reads Special Edition

About The Deep End

It was a new level of loserdom, even for me

When Rosie humiliates herself in front of the whole school at the swimming carnival, she vows shell never step foot in the water again.

Well, until Jake Tran, the best swimmer (and hottest boy) in her year, says he will give her swimming lessons.

Against all the voices in her head screaming that its a bad idea, she takes him up on his offer.

As the pair bond over failed freestyles and parental pressures, they learn more from each other than they ever could have anticipated.

READING MAKES YOU HEALTHIER, SMARTER AND HAPPIER.*

READ MORE BOOKS, MORE OFTEN.

Reading offers an escape like no other. Immersing myself in different lives and worlds is one of my favourite things to do. When I was at uni, Id get long summer breaks and Id walk to the library every week, borrow a huge stack of books, lug them home and then make my way through the books as I lay in the sun. It was honestly a dream life. Books are essential. Theyre fun and beautiful and thought-provoking and life-changing. Reading makes you a better person.

JENNA GUILLAUME

This book is proudly published by Pan Macmillan Australia to celebrate Australian Reading Hour

Australian Reading Hour is your official excuse to stop whatever youre doing (school, homework, chores), pick up a book and read for an hour!

Get involved, join the fun and choose more books to read at australiareads.org.au

Australia Reads is on a mission to get more people reading more books more often. We are a not-for-profit reading initiative working in collaboration with members of the Australian Booksellers Association, Australian Library and Information Association, Australian Publishers Association, and Australian Society of Authors to champion reading.

*Seriously. Make reading for fun a healthy daily habit, like exercising for 30 mins, or drinking plenty of water, or cleaning your teeth twice each day. Put down your phone, pick up a book. Turn off the TV and turn over this page

This book was written on the unceded land of the Bidjigal people of the Eora nation, on which I live and work. I pay respect to Elders past and present and acknowledge the rich and ongoing culture of storytelling of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, which extends back over sixty thousand years.

For my mum

who always let me read whatever books I wanted to and only occasionally made me participate in sporting events

One good thing about being in the water is that no one can see my tears.

Although the glimpses of my face contorted with pain and suffering every time I come up for air might clue people in.

I need to stop. My arms are burning. My legs are burning. My lungs are burning. I am burning.

Panic shoots through me and I gasp. Water rushes into my windpipe and now I really need to stop. I do what Ive been longing to for what feels like at least 100 metres. I grab the wall beside me, sending up thanks to the universe that Im in a side lane as I desperately try to catch my breath through chokes and splutters and coughs.

I glance behind me and actually feel a little bit of vomit surge up in my throat. I cant have gone more than 15 metres. Not even halfway. Its even worse when I look ahead and realise everyone else has already finished the race.

This is the novelty race, for fun, which is just code for lumping all the terrible swimmers together and forcing them to compete even though its the opposite of fun because for some reason torturing minors is a crucial part of their education. The school Swimming Carnival has always been compulsory to attend, but in previous years, wed been able to come along just to cheer (read: eat hot chips and chat to friends). This year, in a particularly cruel twist, the school made it mandatory for everyone to participate in at least one event. They actually invented new activities, like this novelty race, to make space for us all. Im in the pool with the worst swimmers in Year 10, and I have still managed to fall so far behind Im not even racing anyone anymore.

Its a whole new level of loserdom, even for me.

I can feel the stares of the entire school. Well, not the entire school. The people who managed to convince their parents to let them skip the annual bloodbath that is the Swimming Carnival arent watching. Theyre probably at home bingeing YouTube and eating giant Freddos and not feeling their fingers shrivelling up and their souls withering like I am right now.

It was my fault for trying to use the period excuse this morning. I shouldve come up with something stronger, especially after weeks of begging Mum to let me skip the carnival. She hadnt even looked up from washing the breakfast dishes as shed said, Twice in a fortnight, wow, well have to take you to the doctor to get that checked out!

I cursed the day our periods had synched up.

Why cant I have a normal parent, who believes in normal things like giving up or, even better, not participating when youre not good at something? Why do I have to be lumped with a mother who thinks winning isnt everything its trying that matters!? Well, look at me now, Ma! Ive tried! And Ive failed. Abysmally.

Let her finish!

Speak of the she-devil. Shes at the end of the pool, and her words have broken through the eerie (yet somehow very loud) silence, halting Ms Agu, my PE teacher, who had been moving towards me. My saviour, thwarted by my nemesis. Mum had insisted on coming along to support me, adding an extra layer of embarrassment to the whole thing that really wasnt necessary.

I cant, I call out, and my voice is weaker than a soggy tissue. I dont know who I hate more: myself, or my mother.

You can do it, Rosie!

Its definitely my mother.

Ro-sie, I hear someone call. A tentative cheer. Ro-sie!

Oh no. Dont do this to me.

Ro-sie! Ro-sie! Ro-sie!

More and more people are joining in. They think theyre being encouraging. They think this is some kind of inspirational moment from a cheesy movie and Im going to swim to the end in triumph and theyre all going to cheer and go home feeling good about themselves because they helped fat, pathetic Rosie belly-flop her way to the finish line, and my mum will wet her pants over the never give up life lesson shell believe shes imparted.

RO-SIE! RO-SIE! RO-SIE! Theyre getting louder. Braver.

I cant, I say again. Im not louder. Not braver.

I look around. The nearest ladder to get out of the pool feels so far away it may as well be on the moon. I scan the sea of faces, wishing theyd all just disappear. A few people stand out because theyre the only ones not cheering. Ms Agu, whose eyes are full of pity. My best friend, Preeti, whose eyes are full of complete understanding. And Jake Tran, the best swimmer in our year possibly the whole school whose eyes are full of what can only be described as horror.

A word enters my head. Just one word. It speaks over the racket surrounding me.