Sarah Stevenson - Underneath (Sarah Jamila Stevenson)

Woodbury, Minnesota

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Underneath 2013 by Sarah Jamila Stevenson.

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First e-book edition 2013

E-book ISBN: 9780738737027

Book design by Bob Gaul

Cover design by Ellen Lawson

Cover photo compilation by John Blumen

Cover photo Titled Drop by Alex Stoddard

Cover images: Woman Glow Images/SuperStock

Space/cosmos image DigitalStock

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For my family

one

The whistle blasts three times and Coach Rydell yells, Take your marks! Fifteen seconds more. I step up onto the starting block. My feet are poised on the dark, sandpapery surface, toes hanging slightly over the edge, my body tense and ready to dive into the lane.

I take a deep, slow breath and expel it in a quick puff of air.

Looming in my peripheral vision are all of the other swimmers lined up on either side of me. I try not to look at them; instead I focus on the abstract pattern formed by everyones legs on the blocks, the different colors of swimsuits, the faint reflection of the cloudy sky in the surface of the water. I look at peoples toes. Cassie, as always, has a perfect, glossy pedicure. Not me. The light-purple nail polish I painted my toes with is starting to scrape off.

Glancing back up, I see my mother sitting on the lowest bench of the small bleachers on the south side of the pool. For some unknown reason shes on her cell phone. Why now, when my race is starting? I frown.

Five seconds. Almost time. I push everything out of my mindMom, cell phones, even Cassie, whos in the lane to my left, adjusting her goggles.

The whistle shrieks, and were off. Its my best event, the 100-meter freestyle. My arms and legs cut into the cool water with hardly a splash, and then I surface, sucking in air. Its only an off-season invitational, but I push my muscles that extra little bit because I know Ive got this one covered. I barely notice that Im gradually edging ahead of a girl from Lakewood in the lane to my right. Im focused on my rhythmic breathing, my legs churning up the water, the exhilaration surging through me.

This time, Im leaving Cassie behind, and for once that makes me glad. She can go ahead and look perfect all the time. But guess whos going to win todays race? Not Miss Fancy Feet. I file that one away for post-race teasing at Spikes house.

After a perfect flip-turn, I try to add an extra burst of energy for the last length, even though it doesnt matter because I know Im going to be the first one in by a long shot. Soon the familiar calm comes over me. Im in the zone, quiet, just me and the other end of the pool beckoning me, coming inexorably closer with every stroke. My happy place. One of the reasons I swim. Really, the only reason I

ohgod, ohgod

NO! no. no. no. no

dead.

I pop my head up, my legs floundering in the pool. My heart pounds. Whos dead? I hear screaming, and my hands go reflexively to my ears as I try to block out the sound threatening to drown me.

The wake of the person in the next lane washes over me, pushing chlorinated water into my nose and mouth. I cough and sputter, my sinuses burning, and take a quick glance around. But Ive realized by now that nobody was screaming. It was all in my head. Im in a race, at the school pool.

Was in a race. A race I am now losing as Cassie swims past me and tags the end of the pool, me belatedly pulling up a few seconds behind her, my head spinning.

Elisa is already there, her long dark hair tucked tightly into a swim cap, ready for the relay in a few minutes. She high-fives Cassie and shoots me a sympathetic smile.

I shake my head. This is not good. I heave myself out of the water and head over to the junior varsity bench, not wanting to meet my mothers eyes. I can see her out of the corner of my eye, sitting like a statue with her cell phone in her lap. She looks shocked. I am, too. Everyone else is looking at me as if Im mentally unstable. Did I scream?

Cassie squeezes my shoulder before sitting down on the bench next to me. Wow, she says, and pauses for a moment to catch her breath. That shouldve been you, not that Lakewood chick. I nod, then shake my head, still in a daze.

Coach Rydell is not happy. Not happy at all. She stalks right up to me, brandishing her whistle, as Im drying off by the benches.

Pryce-Shah, she says, with a measuring glare. The dreaded last name. What happened back there? That was your race. You had it.

I know, I say hoarsely. I clutch my towel around me, dripping, and shiver a little in the breezy October air. I I dont know what happened. Its a pathetic answer, but its true.

Well, I dont want to see it happen again. Were lucky this is the off-season. She sighs, straightening the Citrus Valley Vikings baseball hat thats mashed down over her sun-bleached hair. And your form was looking so good before you just freaked out and bailed. I hope this doesnt become a habit, Sunny. Id hate to see you drop in the team rankings before the season even starts. Coach peers at me over the top of her sunglasses. I swallow hard.

Im justmaybe Im getting sick, I say. Coach makes a frustrated noise and moves down the bench to where Cassie is celebrating with James, who won earlier for backstroke. I should be there, too, but I cant even manage to be happy for my friends.

Maybe its true. Maybe I am sick.

Sick in the head.

Because nobody just spaces out mid-race and dreams they hear voices.

But its not real, either. Nobodys screaming. Nobodys dead.

As Im heading to the locker room to change, I catch sight of Mom hurrying to her car to pick up Dad from work. Im kind of glad I dont have to talk to her about how I messed up my race. Shed say something well-meaning, but shes never been part of a school sport and she wouldnt understand how it really feels, how I didnt simply disappoint myself. I drive home in silence, still trying to figure out what happened, but all I can think is maybe I didnt get enough sleep last night.