Page 83 of The Last Five Yards

“You say that like it helps.”

Reese pulls her shoes on and straightens, taking Maren’s hand for a moment. “Hey. We will be fine.”

Maren sighs but squeezes her fingers before letting go.

Rowan calls from the front door. “We are going to be late.”

Reese grabs her travel mug and heads toward them. “I’m not going to be the reason we are late today.”

Maren gives her a look that carries five years of love and exactly zero faith in Reese’s punctuality. “We will see.”

Reese grins as she locks the door behind them, the three of them stepping out into the cool morning, all moving toward the same day, the same pool, the same future.

30

Swimmers, Take Your Mark - Rowan

Rowan shuts the bathroom door behind her and leans against the counter for a second, letting the warm light settle the last bit of sleepiness clinging to her eyes. Her reflection looks slightly rumpled but fixable. Her braids are a little crooked. Her cheeks are pink from the hot water she splashed on her face.

She takes a breath, slow and steady. Then another. She tells herself she is fine.

She is totally fine.

It is just a meet.

Her first high school meet.

Not a big deal.

Her heart beats faster anyway.

She pulls the braid apart and redoes it, keeping her hands steady, pretending she is not thinking about every possible thing that could happen on the block. A shaky start. A bad turn. Breathing too early. Breathing too late. Forgetting which heat she is in. Dropping her goggles. All of it flickers through her mind like a reel she did not ask to watch.

She shakes her head, trying to clear it.

Her suit feels right, at least. Tight, but not uncomfortable. Her warm-up jacket fits better than she expected when the season started. She looks… almost like the older girls. Sort of. From certain angles.

She checks her meet bag again, even though she has already checked it in her room. Goggles, cap, water bottle, towel, backup towel, protein bar, backup goggles, backup cap. She zips it shut before she can check a third time.

From the hallway, she can hear Reese’s voice, low and warm, and Maren’s voice answering. It is the kind of morning sound she grew up with, steady and familiar. It settles something inside her even as the nerves keep humming.

She glances at herself one last time.

“You can do this,” she whispers.

The words sound small, but they help.

She grabs her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and steps into the hall. The house smells like toast and coffee. The day is officially starting.

Rowan squares her shoulders and walks toward the kitchen.

It is meet day.

Her first high school meet.

And she is ready.

At least, she hopes she is.