Page 28 of Wicked Elites

The girls stepped aside to reveal a scowling Geraldine. “Absolutely not. Fat girls can’t swim.”

“I apologize for her rudeness,” said the teacher. “I’m Trudy Shields, and this rabble is the swim team.” She addressed the other girls and in a loud, authoritative voice said, “Miss Evergreen was the under-eleven county champion for Greater London, which is a lot more than I can say about many of you girls.”

“Was,” said Geraldine. “That’s before puberty set in, and before she piled on the weight. Look at her. I doubt she can float with such huge udders.”

Miss Shields turned to me. “Why don’t you swim against Miss Penfold?”

“I’m the fastest swimmer in the team.” Geraldine slapped her palm on her sternum. “If she wants a position, she can race me.”

“What stroke?” I cocked my head to the side.

Her gaze flickered down to my chest. “I’d say breaststroke, but you have all of us beaten on that.”

Everyone, including Miss Shields, giggled at that comment. I folded my arms under my breasts. Fuck those jealous hyenas. Some women paid a fortune for E cups. Like this so-called elite education, I got mine for free.

“Free-stroke, then?” I said.

Geraldine grinned. “Let’s do it.”

The girls raced through a door with a female logo, and I followed after them and took a space on a bench in the changing room. After shedding my uniform and slipping on my costume, I stepped out to find people crowding the stadium seats.

Camera flashes filled the space, and my insides cringed. Those photos would probably end up as memes. I pulled my shoulders back, held my head high, and repeated what Mom had told me every time I’d felt low about not looking like Ashley. Women came in all shapes and sizes, and I needed to be proud of my curves.

Geraldine stood at the edge of the pool, looking elegant and slender in her green one-piece. Her blonde hair was tucked into a black swimming hat, and her eyes bulged at the sight of me walking toward her.

She waved a long finger at my body and doubled over with laughter. “You’re going to sink like a stone!”

“We’ll see,” I replied.

Miss Shields strode in behind us, holding a whistle to her lips. After I’d positioned myself next to Geraldine at the edge of the pool, the instructor shouted, “On your marks, get—”

Geraldine dove in and swam for her life.

“Fuck.” I dove in, using the momentum of my dive to propel me through the water, and kept my gaze fixed on the other end of the pool. Any unnecessary movement might slow my speed and give Geraldine even more of an edge than her cheating.

When the streamlining slowed, and my lungs burned, I rose to the surface and sprinted the rest of the way. It was only when my hand hit the end of the pool that I turned around to find Geraldine still swimming toward me.

I twisted around to glare at the audience who Geraldine or her cronies had probably called to watch me fail. Not a single person cheered, and not a single person took a photo of my victory. I raised my chin and sneered. These so-called elites who looked down on me would have to reevaluate their ideas.

“What the hell?” Geraldine screeched. “Underwater swimming isn’t allowed!”

Ignoring her, Miss Shields crouched down at the edge of the pool and beamed. “Welcome to the team! You certainly have the right amount of speed to bring us victory in the Elite Register sports tournament. Now let’s test your endurance. Swim twenty laps and see if you can exceed a kilometer.”

Geraldine pulled herself out of the water. With her shoulders hunched, she stomped toward the changing room. I turned away from the sight and swam my first lap. Such a public loss would have to make her change her ways. But right now, I didn’t know if that would be for the better or for the worse.

After I had swum the required amount of laps, only a few stragglers remained in the stands, and none of them shouted insults as I got out of the pool and walked into the changing room. Most of the girls had already showered and changed into their uniforms, but Geraldine remained, and she’d brought Bianca.

“Who knew pigs could swim?” asked the dark-haired girl.

“Maybe it’s time to stop the name-calling.” I picked up a towel and dabbed my face. “After all, it means admitting having an athletic prowess lower than a pig.”

Geraldine patted my shoulder. “Looks like you won’t be a burden to the team, after all. Come on, Bianca, let’s go to dinner.”

The showers were gorgeous and warm, and they didn’t cut off after five minutes like the ones in the municipal swimming pool. I worked chlorine removal shampoo into my hair and rolled my aching shoulder muscles. Mom and I hadn’t wanted to swim since her breast cancer diagnosis, but I knew she was watching me from up high, cheering on my victory against the bullies. After conditioning my hair and giving it a final rinse, I turned around to the shower door and groped for my bath towel.

Only the small hand towel remained.

“Hello?”