Just a oneshot. Yes, it's Dasey (indicated in paragraph eight). Italicized paragraphs are flashbacks.
You take one look at her and think Sports? Quilting maybe, but sports? That is understandable, even predictable. But she did it anyway.
Why?
Because of the first second. When she stands there on the diving block, looking down upon the shimmering blue water a shiver of nervousness runs through her. She closes her eyes, and leaps with all of her strength. She hits the water, the freezing cold water, and all the feelings are released. All the rage and sadness that she's kept hidden break free and create an aura around her as she is suspended in the cold blue, her lungs burning, creating a huge, flaming ball of Casey.
And that's why she signed up for the swim team.
Casey can still remember the day when she told everyone at dinner that she was part of the swim team. She could predict what they'd say. Nora would congratulate her, George would wonder why, then Nora would tell him that Casey could do whatever she wanted. Derek would tease her, Edwin would join in, and Marti? Well, Marti was unpredicable.
All of those things happened, and she went to swim practice every Friday after dinner, as planned. Friday soon became her favorite day of the week.
Casey always felt different in the water. All the feelings she kept pent up Saturday through Thursday were all released as she hit the water. Casey tried her hardest, loving the challenge swimming presented for her. She quickly became the best swimmer in the class, helping the team win competitions and bring them to the top. Casey was the team's secret weapon, brining them to the finals. Casey barely noticed this. Ask her how many competitions they've won, and she can't tell you. When Casey's swimming, she just notices how she feels. When she makes it to the middle of the pool in the free style stroke and her muscles are aching, she uses the rage and sadness that builds up inside her all through the week to get her to the end.
She sits in her room, pen in hand, trying to think of some way to express her complex feelings to her journal. "It's impossible," she thinks. Her feelings do not belong in the journal anyway. They belong in the water.
How can she tell her journal she loves someone who'll never love her back? Who shouldn't love her anyway? How can she tell her journal that she's mad at herself for feeling this way? For thinking the impossible? So she waits until Friday, until she hits the water in that flying leap that sets her soul on fire.
She puts away the journal and desperately wishes she was swimming.
Until then.
OK, that's it. Hope you liked it! Well, if you did, review and tell me! Criticizm is welcome.