"Not to say anything about it! When you broke the school record!" My head whipped around as my grip on the edge of the pool slipped. I floundered for a second, surprised by the words I heard and the fact I slipped. As soon as I regained my hold on the wall, I looked around. There were only a few people at the pool, and most were in the water, not celebrating a new record.
I kicked off the wall again, satisfied by the fact the record breaker did not require a hearty pat on the back and congratulations, but pulled off another ungraceful move to identify the two I just spotted. To my amazement, neither was a pool regular. Gene stood there looking flabbergasted, and Phineas was right beside him. Dread crept into me when I realized Gene was the one I had heard talking about breaking a record. Was it possible for Phineas, the football star, to break a swimming record?
I frowned and examined at the records. Corin held the 50-yard record, which he had broken less than a month ago. Beneath the 200-yard was Joshua, who had set a new record for that particular length five times this year alone. No one had claimed the 100-yard as his territory for a few years, but I doubted Phineas could break a record like that without months of practice. Parker's 53-second-long 100 yards was a constant among swimmers. Phineas would disrupt the peace of the swimming community if he broke the long-standing 100-yard record. I knew, just like everyone else at Devon, that Phineas was good with any sport involving a ball and physical contact, but he simply was not a swimmer. He never visited the pool for anything other than recreation. No, Phineas could not have broken any records.
Pleased with my conclusion, I turned away from the records and pushed off the wall for another lap. Phineas was not worth my time, and Gene was forgettable. I had come to swim, not to fall for some football player's lie.
However, when I pulled myself over the edge of a pool an hour later, I could not stop myself from pondering about the event I had witnessed. Was it possible that Gene had spoken truthfully and that the ever-athletic Phineas was also a swimmer? I grabbed my towel and wiped clean the sweat and chlorine water from my face with a provocative question stirring in my mind. Phineas would weasel his way through any interrogation I could present him. Gene, on the other hand, was fair game, and I knew where to find Gene.
When I said I would find Gene, I meant I would find him and talk to him, not run into him and essentially knock him off his feet. Normally, I have the sense to stop before bowling into a person or the self-preservation to mutter an apology before hurrying off, but for once, my objective was more important than my pride. God must have a sick sense of humor if this is the way He intended for me to find Gene.
"Gene," I said, "Didn't see you there." I reached a hand out to help him up, but he ignored the proffered hand and slid up the wall on his own.
"Yah, uh, sorry," he replied lamely. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to figure out how Gene and Phineas became friends. Phineas was all smooth talk; in contrast, Gene was as smooth as I was, which was to say not at all.
"Listen," I started equally lamely, "I saw you at the pool today with Phineas."
He turned a suspicious eye toward me and edged away. It finally occurred to me that the reason he had not darted off after his stumbling apology was that I was in the way. This also meant I was too close for comfort for a normal conversation. A slightly apologetic grin lighted my face as I took a step back.
"What about it?" he finally said when I had stepped far enough back to give him some breathing space.
"I wanted to know whether or not Phineas actually, you know, broke the record."
Gene shook his head, but his eyes remained trained on the ground. "He didn't."
"I don't blame you if you want to protect his secret, but he did break it, didn't he?" Gene shook his head again, but he still refused to look up. "Come on, Gene. We all know you're not a good actor. Just tell me the truth."
"So what if he did break it?" I stepped back again having gathered the information I came for. For a moment, Gene did nothing, which was even more puzzling than his answer. Then he stuttered a good bye and walked off with an upset look plastered across his face. I knew now that Phineas was good at swimming even though he never bothered with the "lowly" sport, but knowing the truth distressed me even more than not knowing whether Phineas had broken the record.
"Hey Andrew," someone called. I fixed a grin on my face as I turned to greet my roommate.
"Did you hear? Phineas broke the 100-yard record." My face fell the minute the words left my mouth. I was never known for tact, and there was a reason for that. I never thought before I opened my mouth and rarely stopped to think my actions through. It caused more harm than it helped. This, however, was horrifying. I had just spilled the fact Phineas broke the long-standing record to my roommate, who had an even looser tongue than I did. Phineas' secret would spread even faster than he could sprint from one end of the school to the other. I could almost feel the air tense, getting ready for a new round of chaos.
As predicted, the following week was chaotic, followed by a tumultuous month. I had unintentionally unleashed a secret I knew would cause harm. Phineas glared at any swimmer he passed, and Gene avoided me as if I caused bad luck. Nearly all the swimmers turned a cold shoulder to Phineas, but the coaches wanted to coax the star athlete into the pool. I was lucky Gene did not tell anyone I started the rumor; otherwise, I would have it as bad as Phineas, who had half the world wanting him in the pool and the other half wanting to kill him.
Phineas never swam another timed 100 yards, so A. Hopkin Parker's name remained under the 100-yard. It was a lie, but it was better than the truth.