I don't know how to describe it. One moment I'm me, the next I'm someone else in my body.
My heart pounds. My pupils dialate. My lungs hurt. My head spins. I'm cold and hot at the same time. I get a rush like nothing else, and when it's over there's only one thing I can think of.
Doing it again.
A buzzer blares somewhere and I'm off instantly, leaning forward and pushing off the platform. My body hits cool, liquid glass and for a few moments I marvel at how weightless my body feels. Then my head breaks the surface of the water and I'm off again, one arm in while the other is out and breathing in cycles. I don't know where the other competitors are, I'm not focused on them. Instead I'm amazed at how the water feels supporting my body, at how smooth and cool it is.
All at once I'm at the other end of the pool and I take a deep breath and flip, humming to keep my nose from being filled with water. Once facing the other side of the pool I push off and continue swimming. Dip arm, raise arm, breathe, dip arm, raise arm, breathe. What a feeling!
All too soon, the counter in my head tells me I'm on my last lap and I coast to a stop at the end of the pool. Only now do I really feel how tired I am, how fast I must have been moving, but there is a fierce sort of joy here as well. The knowledge that I've given my all in the race, yes this is a small part of it, but really the joy comes from the act of swimming itself. There is nothing in this world that compares, save for the feeling that comes from a paticularly good church service with a paticularly good move of God.
I'm pulling myself from the water with shaky, adrenaline shot arms when my team mates come running up with congratulations and excited cries. At first I don't understand, then I understand. I've done well, maybe I've won, but in the very least I've scored high enough to be recognized. I search the crowds, wave to my family that I've just been able to remember again, and soak up the praise. It's a high, but a cheap high. I don't want the praise, or even to race really.
I want to swim.
"Amelia Brown, First Place!" My mother reads, yet again, from the name plate on my trophy. My hair is matted to my head, though by now dry, from the chlorine in the pool and my eyes smart. Still, I smile and entertain my mother's joy and my father's pride, which is evident everytime they've looked at me on the way back home. I smile at her, looking into grey eyes that mirror mine so well, and she smiles right back and turns away to chatter on. I look away and gaze out the window, seeing a girl in the reflection wearing the same smile.
She has red hair that is too long to swim with and is often tied up or put under a cap during races and practice, and pale freckled skin. I don't like the freckles very much, they're a cinnamon color that I think makes my face look like a pizza or something. Father says it makes me look like a 'very nice young girl' which doesn't really matter. Father's are suppose to say that sort of stuff to their daughters anyway, right?
To be honest, I'm about as pleased with the rest of me as I am my face. I'm strong, but my muscles are not really all that prominent. I look small, scrawny really, and I'm still waiting for the breast and hip fairies to pay a visit. Sixteen bosomless and shapeless, that has sort of a depressing sound to it. On the up side, none of my friends ever accuse me of flirting with their boyfriends and my clothes still look okay on me. There's no way I'd ever fill out a prom dress and look good, but my skirts don't fall down and I do get compliments every now and then. Maybe I'm so much faster in the water then my friends because I don't have all those curves creating drag...?
"Hey Honey, how about we stop and get you that bathing suit you wanted? You're old one is starting to look a little worn and ragged," Mother says, snapping me out of my depressing thoughts. I smiled and gave a shrug which Mother took as a yes and smiled cheerfully while chatting on about how lovely it would look on me, how it would bring out my eyes...
I turn back to the window, thinking there isn't really anything wrong with my old swimsuit, but perhaps a new one would be nice so long as it isn't that bikini thing my Mother was looking at. I can see far too many unpleasant things happening wearing that, especially if I decide to do the backstroke in the pool and it's loose. I'd die of embarassment if that happened, even if I don't have anything to show off! I'll have to remember to go with Mother when she gets the suit, just to be sure it's something safe to swim in.
"Is Grandma and Grandpa still home?" I ask, breaking my Mother's own string of thoughts as neatly as she had broken my own. Before she recovers, Father answers, smiling with a small amount of pride. "They'll be there for a little while longer, Sam. I'm sure they'll both be very happy with how you did at the competition."
The competition. The competition. Didn't they think of anything else? Then again, they probably assumed I'm proud of winning, which would be a normal reaction for this accomplishment. Truthfully though, I don't really care about winning at all. Sure, it's nice, but who cares? The trophy will tarnish, my name will be erased, the win is not forever. Next year there may be someone else better then me, in fact I hope there is so I don't have to deal with this really. It feels, undeserving somehow that I've won when I don't care about winning. I just want to swim, winning is just a little extra fun... and stress. Yes, winning was more stress then anything but for some reason racing was just too hard to give up. It was the only sport that kept her in the water...
'Once upon a moonlit night three children were out after dark, though their parents had warned them not to be, playing and talking with one another. They came upon a beautiful, pale horse which was as tame as any creature they had ever seen which bade them to climb upon its back.
The children did this, and were soon-'
"Stuck fast to the goblin horse, dragged all over the country side, and then the goblin horse took a dip in the lake. The next morning the kid's entrails were floating on the surface," I chirped, making Grandma give me a stern look. I giggled and she sighed, stroking my hair from my face.
"I suppose I've told that one too often then?" The old woman asked, her firey red hair gone to ashes in her age and her grey eyes more stormy then my own. I nodded smiling the smile of my Mother, cheerful and bright. "You children today, far too insensitive to things of the spiritual and supernatural," Grandma clucked, kissing my forehead as if I were a small girl still and tucking me into my light blue blankets.
"Grandma, none of that story is real. It's just made up as a warning for kids to listen to their parents," I said, settling into my blankets and smiling at the old woman who half smiled back. "Be careful, baby girl. Stories always have an ounce of truth to them," Grandma said, patting my leg and turning out the light. She always treats me as if I'm a very small child, but I don't mind. She's the only person in my family that treats me this way, and to be honest, I love being treated this way.
Youth is so brief, I like having someone here who doesn't scold me for being childish and who sees me as a child. I hear her blow me a kiss before closing the door completely and then I turn on my side, staring out my window. A kernal of truth in that tale? Yeah, right.
I'll believe it when I see it.
"Come on, Amelia! When are you gonna get rid of it?"
How on Earth had we gotten on ths topic?
"Yeah, seriously. Hey! I know a really cute boy that I could-"
"How many variations of 'heck no' do you want?" I asked, making an exasperated sound. My friends giggle at how flustered I was while I walk away, trying to keep calm. 'Get rid of it,' how could someone refer to their virginity that way?! And why talk about it in the middle of school halls?! A low groan escaped me before I darted into my next class, psychology.
"Not feeling well today, Amelia?" Mrs. Smith said, startling me so completely I nearly drop my books on my feet. Mrs. Smith, a woman with wide hips, a large stomach, and an oddly handsome face, seemed just as surprised as I was. "Did I frighten you, dear?"
'Heck yes, you frightened me,' I thought, trying to keep the thoughts to myself. I smile my mother's smile and shake my head. "No, I'm fine. Um, sorry for bothering you..." I say, dodging around the woman and heading for my seat. I steal a quick glance at the board to spy today's subject: Conditioning. At least it was easier then the rest of that crud we were learning, especially the stuff about Sigmund Freud. I swear he was on drugs when he made most of his theories.
I pull out my notebook and begin to doodle as class starts. Little wavy lines, like waves... I begin taking notes, embarrassed by my obsession. Maybe I do need a boyfriend, for the company if nothing else. At least then I wouldn't be thinking about swimming all the time, just most of the time. I doodle some more, letting the psychology sink in via osmosis rather then actual studying.
After school today I'll go to the river and go swimming. I'll have to be careful though, my parents have never liked the idea of me going swimming in that river. Something about the current, about the kids that play there, and occasionally something about the decade old disappearances that happened there.
It's all a little ridiculous really. I've been swimming there since I'd found the little river five years ago, and it was always the same. Clear all the way to the bottom, like glass, and just as smooth on top. It's the same after a strong rainfall, at the beginning and end of summer, and it's the same in the dead of night. There's no way I'll give up my favorite swimming spot just because my parents are a little spooked over a few things. No way, no how.
I gaze back up at the blackboard, and begin digesting a diagram with a dog being conditioned to drool when he hears a bell. Oh well, what Mom and Dad don't know won't hurt them...
Note: Ha! It's so short!