Author's Note:
I was tickled to death when someone informed me that if you Google "Lauren ruptured spleen," or "Mike Newton windshield," your browser will pull up a link to this story on the first page.
A huge thanks to blondie AKA Robin, leechlover, and saramomof5 for betaing. You ladies rock!
I'm so sorry that it's been ages since I updated! I started working full time five weeks ago and didn't have as much time to write any more. But this was a lot of fun to put together!
Now that the blizzards have started in Michigan and I'll be snowbound more often than not in the evenings, I hopefully will be able to finish this story before New Years Day. I just have Angela's chapter left, then an epilogue from Coach Clapp. It will be nice to finally be done with this and move on to other projects.
This chapter is from Tyler Crowley's perspective. Normal disclaimers apply.
Tyler Swims Breaststroke
The great thing about living in a small town is that everyone knows everyone. There's a feeling of intimacy here that fosters a sense of belonging. You walk down the street and everybody asks how your grandma is doing. You know who your neighbors are. If there's an event and you hear about it, you're invited. Your life is a thread in the interwoven fabric of the community.
The awful thing, however, about living in a small town, is that everyone knows everyone's business. There's a lack of privacy that fosters a sense of being watched. You walk down the street and everyone asks if what your grandma said about your love life is really true. Your neighbors spy on you. If you plan for a small get together with two or three friends, eighty people show up. Your secrets don't stay secret for very long, not if any of the town busybodies have anything to say about it.
In general, I try not to get involved with that kind of crap. It's disgusting really, that people have nothing better to do than to talk about each other. I try not to listen. But still…you hear.
Today's lunchroom conversation was no exception to the rule. I tried to tune out the sawing of the rumor mill, but without earplugs, it was hard to do.
According to reliable sources, Mrs. Cope had spent the last three months in a secret Internet relationship with a person whom she'd thought was a much younger, very handsome man. When her husband found out, he'd left her. Meanwhile, Mr. Banner had spent the last three months in a secret Internet relationship with a person whom he'd thought was a much younger, very beautiful woman. When his wife found out, she'd left him. When all was said and done, however, it turned out that Mr. Banner and Mrs. Cope had actually been in a secret Internet relationship with each other. They were more surprised than pleased.
In unrelated news, Lauren's reputation had—in one day—gone from appealing to appalling. The "Vote for Me" fliers of herself that she'd posted all over the school were now grafittied with every synonym of the word "slut" available in the languages of English, Spanish, and Swahili (thanks to an African sophomore exchange student who had taught his friends some of the more colorful phrases of his native tongue). Meanwhile, for the first time in Eric's life, girls who'd never before given him the time of day were batting their eyelashes at him, fascinated by his every joke. He was now known as a hidden gem whose kisses were simply "to die for," as well as an athlete whose hidden prowess had earned him the nickname "diamond in the rough." He'd managed to snag a date to the prom with Katie, who was hanging on his every dorky vampire speech and lame RPG story like they were the most fascinating things in the world. Rumor had it that their first date had been to the renaissance fair, where he'd convinced her that going to prom in medieval gear was a great idea. How bizarre.
Speaking of prom, the votes were in. By an overwhelming majority vote, "Bengela," the shyest and most mismatched-looking couple ever to grace Forks with their odd presence, had been elected prom queen and king. To the surprise of many, some collaboration of anonymous donors known as the Pacific Northwest Trust had contributed a special prize for the winners: A $130.00 gift card to Sassy Kat Salon, for Angela's manicure, pedicure and updo; a $150.00 gift card to Western Tuxedo Rentals, for Ben to get dressed to the nines; a $140.00 gift card for Reggie's Limousine Services; and a $50.00 gift card to Bella Italia. The student body was stunned. Our school was so small and unheard of that it was rare for us to receive grant money for even normal things like textbooks and curriculum planning. To receive money for a prom court prize was just plain strange.
Ben and Angela weren't the only lovebirds nesting in the tree, though. "Messica" was apparently back on. Mike Newton's lovesick heart had done the quickest one-eighty I'd ever observed in my life. In less than a week, he'd gone from mooning over Bella Swan to being crazy in love with Jessica Stanley. Everywhere she went, he valiantly and nobly opened doors for her as she hobbled through on her crutches, and every day she smiled radiantly at him, looking like she was going to swoon. It seemed that the sprained ankle Alice caused was a blessing in disguise.
Alice. Another person caught up in the strange turn of events. In the past week, she'd somehow gone from being on the fringe of the social scene to at the very heart of it. The party she and Bella were throwing looked like it was going to be the event of the century. I just couldn't understand it. I mean…everyone knew that Alice was an absolute dunce when it came to technology, she carried around a tattered copy of Windows 98 for Dummies wherever she went, for crying out loud! Suddenly, she was asking for everyone's play lists and talking about mixing music. The fact that she was—for the first time in her life—able to plan parties was only slightly less weird than the fact that Bella, who was so reserved that she made Angela look outgoing, was helping to plan it.
Bella. Sigh. For the second year in a row, I would not be going to prom with Bella Swan. I'd asked her this morning, thinking that maybe…just maybe…she'd feel bad about the fiasco that was last year. Maybe…just maybe…she was still mad at Edward for whatever it was that she was mad at him about last week. So I'd worked up the courage and asked.
Her response?
"Prom. As in dance. I uh—have to go somewhere. To Jacksonville. Yeah."
I'd stared at her in disbelief. It was Seattle all over again.
"Can't you go another weekend?" I'd asked.
"Non-refundable tickets!" she'd blurted out. "Sorry. Edward said that we have to use up the vouchers before they expire, so it's this weekend or nothing."
Double-sigh. The most desirable catch in school was not going to prom with me, but on a romantic beach trip with Edward Cullen. I grimaced, remembering his rude words from last year as I showed up at her house with a corsage the night of the prom. She'd promised, after all, and I'd expected to end our special evening with a kiss, and possibly a whole lot more.
"Hello, Tyler. This is Edward Cullen. I'm sorry if there's been some kind of miscommunication but Bella is unavailable tonight. To be perfectly honest, she'll be unavailable every night, as far as anyone besides myself is concerned. No offense. And I'm sorry about your evening."
The words had shocked the living daylights out of me. When she couldn't go to the Sadie Hawkins dance junior year, she'd promised to go to prom with me. Hadn't she? Or did I we have some sort of a miscommunication there? She must have forgotten, with Cullen dripping all over her. Didn't she realize that I'd been dreaming of ways to make the night special for her for months? Ever since the incident with the van, when I'd first taken notice of her, when I'd first realized how beautiful she was, I'd dreamed of holding her in my arms and never letting her go.
So much for that idea, I thought grimly. I picked gingerly at my sandwich, watching the object of my infatuation, whom I'd never really gotten over, chat animatedly with Alice; two seats down from me. They looked so similar to one another, with their slight frames, pale skin, and bright eyes. The way their eyes held each other's secrets…it seemed more like they were sisters than best friends.
I sourly recalled the fact that not only Bella, but Alice had turned me down for prom this year. After Bella's no-thank-you, I'd asked Alice, figuring that if I got close to Bella's best friend, it might help me get close to the brunette herself. The plan backfired something fierce. That evening, I got eight phone calls from various aunts who'd wanted to know if it was really true that Alice Cullen had told me that she'd rather go to prom with "an incontinent, rabid, one-eyed possum named Larry."
At least I get to see both of them in swimsuits today, I reminded myself, trying to cheer myself up. I grinned to myself. After a week of gym being replaced by study halls, due to Coach Clapp's pelvic fracture, PE was back on. The principle hadn't been able to find a substitute teacher…apparently the rumor was making its way around the subbing community that the class was cursed. The overweight gym teacher was having a difficult time walking, and an even more difficult time sitting, so he'd decided to forget about the track and field curriculum, which kept getting canceled for rain anyways, and teach class in the pool, where the buoyancy of the water would make it easier for him to get by.
I wonder what kind of swimsuit Bella brought… I let my eyes wander over her t-shirt and comfy-jean clad body and tried to imagine her in a bikini. The fantasy grew hotter as I imagined myself with her on some Florida beach, the sun streaming down on warm skin as we sunned ourselves. I imagined her curling up next to me...smiling…reaching for me. What a babe, I thought. I should keep trying. Maybe the concept of Tyella is not a lost cause. Tyella. Mmmm. I like the sound of it. Tyella, Tyella, Tyella. We could name one of our kids that someday.
Suddenly, without warning, I heard a huge crashing sound as something hit my chair. I felt a sharp splash of burning pain, as something hot and wet spread across the front of my shirt and the top of my pants.
"YEOWWWWWW!!!!" I screeched.
"Oh Tyler! I'm so terribly sorry!" Edward gasped. I looked down to see him sprawled on the floor, on his butt, looking stunned and slightly embarrassed. In his hands, he clutched a light green plastic lunch tray, on which there was, or rather, had been, a large bowl of steaming chili. The chili was now totally and completely covering most of my shirt and a good portion of my pants. Strangely enough, not one drop of the soup had gotten on him. There was a moment of silence, before the lunch table erupted in laughter. No one laughed louder than Alice, whose bell-like peals rang so loud that I was surprised that she didn't shatter one of my contact lenses with her vibrato. For some reason though, Bella just rolled her eyes, giving Alice a look that said give me a break.
Edward ducked his head and scrambled to his feet in a move so smooth that it would've made Patrick Swayze jealous. He handed me a napkin that was way too small to clean up the mess. "I can't believe that I did that!" he gushed. "My foot totally just slipped. How clumsy of me. Are you all right?"
"Yeah," I lied, ignoring the throbbing pain of the bruise that was forming on my shin, and wiping the ground beef and kidney beans from my thighs. "I'm okay. Just wet and smelly."
"Maybe you should go get changed into your gym clothes," he suggested in an overly concerned, velvety voice.
"I didn't bring anything other than my swimsuit and towel," I muttered. Like I was going to parade around in swim trunks for the rest of the day.
"Wow…that's rough," Edward said with a frown, rubbing the back of his head. Though his tone was polite, I could have sworn that he was mocking me with his eyes. I looked close at his eyes and shuddered. They'd always given me the creeps.
From across the table, Bella gave him a withering look.
"Hey Ty," Connor called, from four seats away, "Don't worry about it. I have an extra change of clothes in my gym bag. They're a little sweaty from the jog I did with Mike this morning, but it's probably better than smelling like the lunch lady." I gave him a wry grin. He grinned back, before shooting me a sympathetic look. We'd been commiserating together all morning over the fact that we'd been played like fools. Though neither of us had really been all that interested in more than the physical with Lauren, the fact that she'd cheated on both of us not only with each other but with Eric left us each feeling used and wronged.
"Thanks Connor," I said lamely. "But lunch is half over anyways. No point in changing for just fifteen minutes. I suppose I'll just have to deal with it till PE."
"I really can't express how sorry I am," Edward reiterated, wiping at the chili on my shirt with a napkin he swiped from Ben Cheney, which only really succeeded in smearing the orangish-brown goo around. Though his expression was concerned, his eyes appeared to be somewhat amused. "I'm such a klutz sometimes!"
"Riiiiiiiiiiiight…and Eric and I are Olympic level athletes," Bella muttered under her breath.
"What was that?" I asked her, not understanding.
"Nothing."
For the rest of the lunch hour I listened miserably as Edward and Bella planned their trip to Florida, getting the distinct impression that Edward was trying to give off a subliminal back off…she's mine message to any male within earshot. Surprisingly, Bella, who usually listened raptly to whatever Edward had to say, was extremely distracted. She barely seemed to hear a word he was saying. Instead, she kept glancing at Alice with curious eyes, as though waiting for Alice to reveal some important information to her.
Alice, however, kept talking to Jessica, asking for her input on whether a fog machine and laser projector were a good idea for the party or if they would seem over the top, since they had already ordered black lights. Jessica (who seemed stunned that Alice was actually talking to her) was enthusiastically in favor of the lasers.
The soup crept into my underwear, little by little, and with a start, I realized that the chili was hot in more ways than one.
"Did you add Tabasco sauce to your chili?" I whispered to Edward.
"Um…yeah. I like things hot." He frowned. "Why? Are you okay?"
"I…er…gotta go…now," I said abruptly, as the burn intensified. Jumping up, no longer able to tolerate the discomfort, I made a dash for the locker room, much to the astonishment of my peers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could swear that I saw Edward Cullen shaking with laughter.
Once alone, I stripped out of my clothing as quickly as I could and jumped in the shower. The cold water provided instant relief from the burning sting. I rinsed out my clothes under the stream of water and scrubbed them with soap, hoping to get most of the chili out. With a sigh, I realized that the orange would never actually come out of my white t-shirt or khaki pants. There would forever be a blotch on my crotch. Irritated, I threw the entire outfit away. I liked those pants too, I thought. Had to go all the way to Seattle to buy them at The Gap. Oh well. At least Mike has something for me to change into.
By the time I got myself cleaned up and had donned my trunks and grabbed my goggles, the rest of the boys were getting changed for gym. I followed them out into the pool area. Once in the steamy, brown-tiled room, I smiled. All of my troubles disappeared and I remember exactly why I loved this part of the year.
Jessica Stanley was dressed in string bikini so skimpy that I wasn't exactly sure how it stayed on. Her boobs were practically falling out of the hot-pink contraption. Mike smacked the back of my head has he passed, and I turned my eyes to some of the other eye-candy in the room. Man…these girls have sure grown up since freshman year…
Katie was also in a two-piece, with a halter top that left very little to the imagination. Alice Cullen was in some kind of a black triangle-top get up, and Morgan's was a one-piece with the sides cut out and a tie in the back. A few had jumped in the water and discovered that it was too cold, so now they were standing on the deck shivering, suffering, to my delight, from severe cases of hard nipplitis.
Stop looking. Can't get caught looking. I chided myself. I afforded myself one more peek before reluctantly averting my , I was a red-blooded, hormone-filled, eighteen-year-old guy. Sure I was visually oriented. And sure, as a popular jock, I'd dated my fair share of the girls in the room. But that didn't mean that I was a leering fool. I'd always been known as a respectable sort of guy…a gentleman. No point in ruining that reputation three weeks before graduation. There were far too many people whose reputations were doing bizarre things lately and I didn't want to join their ranks.
"Ahhh…welcome to paradise," Connor said, elbowing me in the ribs. "This is as good as Christmas morning."
I sighed. He was—without apology and without trying to hide his interest—wolf-whistling at every other girl who walked into the pool area. I ignored him, trying to remember the core values the Noble Valiant Boys. Honor. Chivalry. Respect. Bravery. Honor. Chivalry. Respect. Bravery.
"Check out those knockers!" Connor said, pointing at Whitney, who was walking self-consciously out of the women's locker room. All the honorable thoughts disappeared as my eyes involuntarily peeked, and I gritted my teeth angrily. "It must be dark in here – the only place you'll find more headlights is at the drive-in." He resembled a dog hanging his head out a car window as he checked out every one of the shivering women.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you that staring is rude?" I asked Connor, exasperated.
"I'm just admiring the beauty of God's creation," he said with a shrug. "They're easy on the eyes. Except that Bella's suit is a disappointment. Man! It shows nothing." I glanced up at the pretty brunette. Sure enough, she was dressed modestly, in a solid, royal blue tank. However, despite its modest design, it was the most of her skin I'd ever seen, and it made my blood run warmer.
"It's no string bikini," I admitted. "But it is nice to see her legs." I tilted my head to the side, allowing my gaze to linger on her soft curves. Damn. That girl would look hot in just about anything. I wonder if she's taking a real swimsuit to Florida with her.
Connor's brow furrowed, as he analyzed her figure. "It may cover up too much of her body, but at least it's v-cut."
"True that," I said, guiltily taking a closer look. The suit did provide a slight glimpse at some cleavage. I admired her body for the briefest second longer before glancing away. Out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn that Edward was glowering at me. Did he see me checking his girlfriend out? I wondered. How could he have? I only glanced at her for a second.
"Attention class!" Coach Clapp called loudly, from his spot in the shallow end, where he had his arms draped over a red life-saving buoy. "Everyone in the pool!"
"But it's so cold!" Jessica complained. I coughed to cover up a laugh. Anyone who looked could see that she was cold.
"That's why we're going to warm up!" Coach Clapp said. "Everyone jump in. Five laps to warm up. Any stroke of your choice. When you're finished, exit the pool and stand at the shallow end. If you get done early, cheer the rest of your classmates to the finish. Begin!" He blew his whistle, and with a splash, body after body entered the pool. The icy water hit my skin and immediately chilled me to the core. Why was it that cold water affected the girls so…alertly…but did the opposite to guys? I hiked up my suddenly roomy suit and began swimming as quickly as possible, trying to get myself warm. I was relieved to be in the water, away from Connor's lewd comments. I'd much rather think my dirty thoughts to myself than to voice them and risk sounding like a prick. The lap time also allowed me a chance to check out the beauties in motion, through my goggles. Nice.
Connor, Mike, and I finished our laps first (it wasn't our fault, being the biggest and the strongest) so we each stood at the edge together in a small huddle. Edward and Alice finished next, and came up behind us.
"Hi!" I said, giving a friendly at the tiny girl. "I like your swimsuit. It's really pretty. We're planning a La Push trip next weekend. You should come." Get close to the friend…get close to the girl. To my dismay, she ignored me. She was staring off into space with a blank look on her face, acting like she hadn't heard me at all. Well that's rude. I was just trying to be nice. I sat on the edge of the pool so that I wouldn't have to look at her, and dangled my feet over the edge, bored.
When the slowest swimmers, Bella Swan and Eric Yorkie—apparently his "Diamond in the Rough" skills didn't sparkle in the pool—had exited the frigid waters, Coach Clapp blew his whistle, from his place in the shallow end, draped over his red buoy.
"Now that you're all warmed up and ready for action, we can get started. Can anyone tell me the four main strokes used in swimming competitions?"
Angela raised her hand. I noticed that she was wearing a red one piece. Baywatch…nice. I'd seen the old reruns in syndication on TNT. Except that she's too tall. Oh well. Still nice.
"Yes? Ms. Weber?"
"Freestyle, Backstroke, Breaststroke, and Butterfly," she said confidently.
"That is correct!" Coach Clapp said with a smile. "Out of those four strokes, which one consumes the most energy?"
"Butterfly, sir," Angela said confidently. Her usually soft voice carried as it bounced off of the ceramic tile that covered every square inch of the room. Of course she knew. Angela spent every summer teaching swim classes and life guarding at a camp for disabled children.
"That's correct as well. Now, Ms. Weber, can you tell the class which stroke consumes the least energy? In other words, which stroke can be used as a lifesaving stroke?"
"The breaststroke," Angela replied a little too loudly. At the words breast and stroke, Connor broke out into quiet laughter beside me. His immature chuckles set of a chain reaction, and before I knew what was happening, the entire class was cracking up. Angela looked mortified.
"I see a few breasts I'd like to stroke," Connor whispered. He glanced to the where Bella Swan stood with her arms crossed, which, unfortunately for her and fortunately for Connor, pushed a certain part of her anatomy slightly up and slightly together. My eyes widened at how nice they looked, and I was tempted to let my eyes stay where they were, but I glanced away quickly, berating myself for not being able to control my thoughts. I glared at Connor, annoyed by his social inappropriateness. This was just plain immature. If his eyes were wandering that much, God only knew where his thoughts were going.
"Quit being a pervert," I whispered to him.
"My God. The things I'd do with Bella if I could get her alone," he whispered back, chuckling.
BANG! SPLOOSH!
Without warning, there was the sound of skin squeaking against wet tile, followed by a crashing sound. I looked down and saw that Connor was no longer standing next to me, but had somehow ended up in the middle of the pool. He surfaced, sputtering. Surprised, I saw that Edward was, for the second time today, next to me on his bottom, with a stunned and slightly embarrassed expression on his face. The females in the class were giggling uncontrollably.
"Man! I'm so uncoordinated today! My foot hit a wet patch and I slipped," he explained...not quite apologetically...before jumping gracefully back to his feet. He didn't look uncoordinated in the least. "Gosh. I'm sorry Connor. I didn't mean to knock you in." The class sniggered. From directly behind me, Alice's laughter was so musical that it was almost inhuman. Bella on the other hand sighed, burying her face in her hands. I'd be embarrassed too, if I was dating someone that clumsy, I thought. Man. Cullen is a klutz!
"Are you okay?" I asked Edward. As he stood up, I was shocked to see that some of the tile had cracked, where he landed. He must have some major bruising going on, I thought. He won't be able to sit down for a week!
"Um…I'm fine!" he glanced at the floor mildly. "That tile must be really cheap. Weird."
Conner moaned as he climbed out of the pool. There was a gigantic bruise forming on the back of his thigh. He must have banged himself up as he fell in.
"Ow…" he complained. He glared at Edward. "Watch where you're slipping next time!" He rubbed his leg, but didn't complain about it. A lesser man would probably have asked if he could leave class, but he kept his mouth shut. Connor had always been the "suffer in silence" type.
"Sorry," Edward muttered sheepishly, but shifted so he was blocking Connor and my view of Bella. Alice's grin was so wide that I wondered if her cheeks hurt.
Coach Clapp cleared his throat. "No more interruptions! We are not here to slip, trip, or knock each other around. We are here to swim. Is that understood?"
"Yes Coach Clapp," the class mumbled.
"Now, because I am unable to do this stroke properly, due to my recent injury, I have recruited Emmett Cullen to help me teach this class. Emmett? Where are you?"
"Right here," Emmett's booming voice said. He strode out of the equipment closet, carrying a stack of kickboards. Several of the girls in the class gasped, while several of the guys stifled laughs.
Emmett was wearing a yellow Speedo.
Of course, laughing at a two-hundred and sixty pound mass of muscle covering a six-foot-five frame is probably not the world's best idea. However, I had to admit that if anyone could pull off that fashion faux pas, it was probably Emmett.
"Why is it that Speedo makes the world's most modest girl's suits but the world's most immodest guy's suits?" Connor asked me in a low voice. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"They make suits that are practical for swimming in," I retorted. "Shut your yap."
"Hey Angela! I think you're finally going to get to do that school newspaper story on Speedo padding on the swim team," Jessica giggled. The tall girl ducked her head and winced in embarrassment when Emmett shook his head, as if denying Jessica's accusation. How'd he hear that?
"Did you pack Emmett's gym bag this morning?" Bella asked Alice suspiciously.
"Um…yeah. I thought it might be funny. And it is." The petite girl giggled. "How did you know?"
"Lucky guess." Bella surpressed a smile as her eyes wandering over her boyfriend for a moment. "You could have packed Edward's too you know," she said, blushing furiously.
"Never would have gotten away with it. He sees everything I see…remember?"
"And it's a good thing too. Otherwise, I would have been the butt of far more pranks over the years," Edward said, patting his sister on top of the head. "How can someone so tiny be so annoying?" Despite his sarcasm, and despite what sounded like a compliment from Beautiful Bella, he did look very relieved at the fact that he was not clad like his brother.
Emmett, not looking the least bit ashamed of his revealing swimsuit, jumped up onto the diving board and did a perfect double-somersault-pike-twist dive in to the water.
"Swoon," Jessica breathed, in awe, her brown eyes growing wide. "Oh swoon!"
"I want one," Ashley Beckman sighed.
"Show-off," Mike muttered, glaring in Emmett's direction.
"Brilliant game-master," Eric sighed wistfully.
"Now, watch closely," Coach Clapp said, as Emmett began to swim. "Many people do the breaststroke entirely wrong, and as a result, there isn't enough force to propel the swimmers to the finish line."
"I never had trouble finishing," Connor snickered.
There was a good deal of inappropriate giggling at that comment, but Coach Clapp ignored it. "The biggest problem with the breaststroke is that people have a tendency to bring their hands all the way down to their sides. Emmett will demonstrate the wrong way to move your arms." At that cue, Emmett's arms moved fluidly and gracefully through the water, from above his head to down by his sides. The motion looked powerful. I didn't see what was wrong with it.
"Looks fine to me," Bella said, perplexed. "I don't see what's wrong with it." Great minds think alike.
"Very fine," Morgan said. She sounded like she was hyperventilating.
"Very fine indeed," Jessica breathed in agreement. "Oh my wow. Can you say…whoa?"
"How about 'glutes'?" Ashley sighed.
"Show-off," Mike mumbled again.
"What Emmett is doing right now wastes a good deal of energy," Coach Clapp explained. "Because this is a lifesaving stroke, you want to conserve as much energy as possible so that you can keep swimming for as long as it takes to make it to safety or to endure in a longer race. What you actually want to do is to keep your hands out in front of you, sculling the water with small, circular movements, like this," he pulled his hands overhead and took them through the looping motions. "Watch Emmett do it." The enormous, dark-haired alumnus began to move his hands swiftly through the water, and his pace quickly increased.. He was obviously well practiced.
"See? Much faster!" Coach Clapp said. "Do the motion with me!" He brought his hands together and up overhead, before bringing them down to the level of his chin, then bringing them back up again. It reminded me of the wax-on, wax-off from the old Karate Kid movies.
"Niiiiiiice…" Connor whispered to me, glancing towards Jessica, nudging me. The arm motions were causing a certain part of her anatomy to bounce. Mike shot him a dark look.
"The second mistake that people often do wrong when doing the breaststroke is that they spread their legs too far apart." Coach Clapp said. I couldn't help myself. I had to laugh at that one. The laughter was contagious. One by one, every student in the class began to crack up. Even Connor couldn't top that line.
Again, Coach Clapp ignored us. "The correct technique is to bring your heels up to your butt, before kicking down and around. You'll want to keep your knees as close together as possible."
"I thought this was gym, not abstinence-based sex-ed," Connor whispered to me. "Next he'll have us putting condoms on bananas." I shook my head, unable to stop myself from sniggering.
"Emmett, first demonstrate the right way to do this kick," Coach Clapp said. Emmett did so. I frowned, unable to figure out exactly how he got his hips to rotate that much. Heels to the butt, heels-out, down and around. "Now Emmett, show them the wrong way to do it." The second technique actually looked more comfortable to do, as his legs opened and closed like a pair of scissors. He looked mildly like a frog. "Kicking this way causes excess drag in the water. Don't make the same mistake! Remember, you don't want to exhaust your energy all at once. You'll go faster if you do it wrong…at first, but it will make you too tired, and ultimately, you won't last. You want to shoot through the water, straight and long, like a torpedo."
The word straight and long caused another burst of immature laughter from the class.
"Come on Emmett! Show them! Straight and long!" Coach Clapp called.
"Please! Do show us!" Jessica whispered. Mike looked annoyed.
Emmett corrected his stroke, and began swimming properly, taking one deep breath with every stroke. Strangely enough, even through he kept bobbing his head up each time his arms sculled, he didn't seem to be taking much of a breath. Huh. I wondered how he'd gotten so good at swimming. He hadn't been on Forks swim team, and at Dartmouth, according to what Coach Clapp had said during the last gym class, when we did the discus throw, he was in track and field. I wondered how he avoided sinking like a rock, since he was solid muscle, with no fat to help him stay buoyant.
"All right everyone! Into the pool! Let's get started! Now that you know how to do it properly, we're going to practice. Faster swimmers, get into the far right hand lane. Slower swimmers, get into the far left hand. Medium swimmers in the middle. If you're somewhere between fast and medium or slow and medium, get in one of the other two lanes, slow on the right, fast on the left." The class sorted themselves. Eric, strangely enough, after all his displays of strength the previous week, put himself in the far right and smiled at Bella. Looking as though she was one of the few girls in the class who was not infatuated with Eric Yorkie, she chose the middle lane. Edward stayed with her. Not wanting to look overconfident by choosing the land on the far left, I chose the lane between the middle and the left. Connor and Mike, on the other hand, went to the far left.
"Begin!" Coach Clapp called. I pulled my goggles down over my eyes and jumped into the water.
Swimming was easy for me. Just another form of cardio. Forks Middle School used to have open swim every summer, and since it essentially equaled free baby-sitting, Mike, Eric, Connor, and I used to swim every afternoon. All summer long, while our moms got together to drink tea or crochet or do whatever it is that moms do when they get together, we were at the pool. I liked being in the water. It felt natural. Like I was a fish.
I glanced through my goggles, and under the water, saw Bella Swan swimming in the neighboring lane. Knowing that no one would see me do it, I checked her out as she passed me. Nice. Her body was so slender and willowy that it captured my attention in an instant. I appreciated the fact that didn't have that overdeveloped athletic look that so many girls worked so hard to achieve. Instead, there was something natural about her soft curves and slim lines.
I wouldn't mind seeing this again, I thought to myself. I wonder if I can convince her to go to La Push with us next week. I'll let her know that it will be sunny, so she should bring something she could tan in. Maybe she has a "sunning" swimsuit that shows more than this darn thing. The "beach with Bella" fantasy returned and I found myself swimming on autopilot, lost in the idea that one of these days, she'd just have to come to her senses and dump Edward Cullen.
She's so beautiful…she could be mine.
WHACK
Suddenly, something hard hit my head with such intensity that it felt like I'd swum full speed, head first, into a brick wall. I felt the impact first, then a rush of pain. What's happening to me? I wondered. I felt my body sinking…sinking…and then everything went black.
The next thing I knew, I felt a pair of soft lips pressed against mine. I felt someone blowing air into my lungs. It was the oddest sensation.
"He's still not breathing on his own!" Angela said, in a panicked voice above me. I felt a pair of icy cold hands on my chest, and then a crushing pressure against my ribs.
"One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen-sixteen-seventeen-eighteen-nineteen-twenty-twenty-one-twenty-two-twenty-three-twenty-four-twenty-five-twenty-six-twenty-seven-twenty-eight-twenty-nine-thirty!" A deep voice counted, and I felt the compressions as something squashed my ribs, flattening my spine against the cold, hard tile over and over.
Angela's lips met mine once again, and I felt the air from her lungs entering mine. The sensation of air going down my throat made me choke, and I quickly sat up, coughing violently.
"He's okay!" Angela said, relieved. I sputtered, drawing in deep, choking breaths, which expelled a mouthful of water from my lungs. The coughing hurt my ribs.
"Ow," I said, rubbing my sternum. It felt like it'd been run over by a cement truck. "What the heck?" I looked up to see Emmett and Angela staring down at me with concern in their eyes. The rest of the class was gathered around, murmuring, except for Edward, who was sitting up on the bleachers, holding an ice pack to his head. He was surrounded by a group of girls who all looked very concerned about him, much to Bella's dislike.
"Ungh…what happened?" I asked blearily.
"You and Edward collided," Angela explained softly. You were each swimming too close to the center of your lane…so when you should have passed each other, you banged skulls instead. He complained of nothing but a bruise on his head when he came out, but you lost consciousness. Emmett pulled you out. You weren't breathing."
"I started rescue breathing," Emmett explained, staring at my neck with an odd expression on his face, as if trying to see if my pulse was still going. I realized his eyes were as weird as Edward's and shivered. "But…uh…was having a hard time with it. Cause…well…you know…well…"
"Wait…you…did mouth-to-mouth on me?" I said, horrified. Several girls giggled. Great. Just great. Before noon tomorrow, all eight of my aunts are going to be talking about how I kissed Emmett Cullen. Ugh.
"Well, I started to, but then it was weird, cause…" Emmett swallowed hard. Edward was smirking from his place on the bleachers as he moved the ice pack to a different part of his head.
"Mouth-to-mouth can be really weird if you've never had to do it before," Angela offered in a sympathetic tone. "Especially on someone of the same gender. It was uncomfortable for me the first few times I did it, but I got over it, knowing that it was to save lives."
"Oh! Yes! That's it! That's totally it!" Emmett said, nodding vigorously. "I mean…not to sound homophobic or anything…but you know." He shrugged.
"No offense taken," I said, grateful that I'd been unconscious for whatever contact had occurred between me and the ginormous swimmer/track and field star/whatever. Swapping spit with a dude. Sick. I wiped my mouth as if it were covered in poison.
"Emmett Cullen can do mouth-to-mouth on me any time," some girl said in a low voice behind me, which was followed by some muted giggles and murmurs of assent.
"Anyways, I saw that Emmett looked uncomfortable with the rescue breathing, so I told him to do the chest compressions while I did the mouth-to-mouth," Angela said, checking me over, frowning at the bruises that were starting to form on my chest. "Research shows that two-man CPR has a better survival rate than one-man."
"You look like you're going to be fine now," Coach Clapp said to me in a relieved voice. "For a second, I thought we might lose you."
"I think you need to go to the ER though," Angela said in a worried voice. "You may have a concussion."
"Shouldn't Edward go to the ER too?" Bella asked pointedly, in a cross voice. "He could just as easily have a concussion."
"Naw. I'm fine," Edward said, standing quickly and tossing the ice pack aside. "No concussion here. Just a little bump."
"I think I'm fine too, my ribs hurt more than my head," I said, jumping to my feet as well. What a weird day. But as I straightened up, I felt my vision speckle and tunnel in, and for the second time that day, blackness took over.
The next thing I knew, I found myself in a strange, semi-conscious state, unable to tell what was reality and what were dreams. I heard the faint sounds of voices speaking around me, but it sounded like I was underwater. Was I back in the pool? There was a pricking on the back of my hand. My head was swimming, and I found myself unwilling to open my eyelids.
Where am I? I wondered. I tried very hard, through the fuzziness, to identify the voices around me. With difficulty, I was able to make one out.
"—Should have known better than to attempt mouth-to-mouth on a human! What were you thinking Emmett? How could that possibly have been a responsible idea?" I recognized the voice: Dr. Cullen. He'd spoken at our school before on various occasions, and his musical, harmonious voice was hard to forget. Am I in the hospital? I wondered.
"I'm sorry! I totally thought I'd be able to do it," Emmett's voice said helplessly. "I wanted to be strong enough to do it! But then, when I saw that he had no pulse…it got me thinking about blood. And then I couldn't stop thinking about blood. And the thought of blood was driving me crazy!" Huh. Emmett is afraid of blood. I thought to myself. He didn't want to do mouth to mouth, and maybe it was because he was afraid that I'd cough up blood. That would have been gross. But why would he have tried to make up the fact that he was homophobic before if it was really because he as an aversion to blood? Nothing wrong with being squeamish around injured people...but why would you lie about something like that? I imagined Emmett fainting at the sight of blood. Man...he's huge. If anyone could crack the tile by falling on it, it would be him.Suddenly I wondered if Emmett was gay. Okay…that's just really creepy.
"You could have killed him! In front of everyone!" Dr. Cullen said in an anxious voice. "Do you know what that would have done to our family?" This is strange. Emmett was only trying to save my life. Just because he's not as accomplished lifeguard as Angela is no reason to treat him like a murderer…
"Why are you yelling at me?" Emmett said defensively. "At least I was trying to preserve human life. Edward was the one who kept slipping, tripping, and having klutzy accidents all day long!"
"Edward!" Dr. Cullen said, shocked. Well that's just rude, I thought. Yelling at your kid because he's not graceful. Bella took a spill now and then – it was actually kind of cute.
"It's not my fault that I kept getting distracted," Edward growled. "Those boorish, brainless, human dolts kept thinking inappropriate things about my future wife!"
Huh? My thoughts suddenly grew clearer and I listened with keen interest.
"But I thought Bella turned down your marriage proposal…" Emmett countered.
Huh???
"Yeah, but Alice is positive that she'll change her mind. In fact, she was so sure of it that she already booked Pastor Weber to do the wedding in August."
HUH?!?!?! None of this made any sense. What in the world?
"Alice is almost as presumptuous as you're overprotective and ridiculous!" Emmett said through gritted teeth. "You could have killed him with that collision of yours!"
Okay…this really doesn't make sense.
"Guys shouldn't be oogling at Bella like she's something to eat," Edward said emphatically.
"I find the fact that you are saying that statement very ironic," Emmett said, amused.
"She's an eternal being who deserves love and respect."
"Eternal? Eh? So you've given in then?" Emmett sounded triumphant.
"Well…no. But we're trying to work out a compromise…"
Could there be trouble between them? My mind drifted to a sunny beach, but every time I tried to imagine Bella in a bikini, my head ached.
"Enough you two! Emmett…you're going to tell Coach Clapp that you've gotten all the volunteer hours you need for your college program. Edward, I am writing a note to the principle excusing you and Alice from gym for the rest of the year due to medical problems!" Dr. Cullen said. "Her 'asthma' and your 'concussion' are going to be perfect excuses to get both of you out of the semester early. I can't have any more sprained ankles or broken windshields or ruptured spleens or concussions! This is beyond ridiculous!"
"But Dad! I have to stay in gym! What if something happens to Bella and I'm not there to protect her? Don't you get how anxious I get when I'm away from her? Humans are so fragile! Just look at how many of them have been injured this week!"
The music in Dr. Cullen's voice turned dark. "Every incident in gym has been caused by you and Alice! You're the ones she needs protection from!"
This conversation is so weird, I thought to myself. Am I still dreaming? Did I just hear that Edward proposed to Bella and she said no but Alice already is planning the wedding? They're not even out of high school yet! And Emmett's afraid of something? I have to be dreaming.
"I'm not dropping out, Dad. Something terrible must be about to happen tomorrow. Alice said that the entire gym hour was blacked out of her vision! She couldn't see a thing about tomorrow's class! She—oh crud. I wasn't paying attention. He's coming to….we've got damage control to do unless we want to end up as ash."
Ashes? I wondered, spinning into consciousness.
"Tyler? Are you awake?" A soft voice said, as a cold hand shook my shoulder. I felt my eyes open and looked around, disoriented. I blinked twice. Dr. Cullen was standing over me. Edward and Emmett were nowhere to be seen.
"Were Emmett and Edward just here?" I asked stupidly.
"Um…no." Dr. Cullen gave me a worried look with his eyes that were just as creepy as Emmett's. "They haven't been up to see you at all today. Why do you ask?"
"I just heard their voices!" I insisted, but the details of their conversation had already started to fade. "They were talking about the weirdest things…"
Dr. Cullen gave me a look like I was crazy, and shook his head. "No Tyler. You've been alone and unconscious here for the last two hours. You hit your head really hard in gym. You have a concussion, and you were in a lot of pain, so we had to give you some Vicodin. You're probably feeling pretty loopy."
"I didn't know Vicodin was a hallucinogenic," I said, letting my head sink back into the lumpy hospital pillow.
"Everyone responds differently," Dr. Cullen said with a nonchalant shrug. "Your x-rays showed that your skull is still intact, though Emmett cracked your ribs when he was doing CPR. We've had you on a few different pain killers. You could be reacting strongly to one or more of them."
"I have broken ribs?" I asked weakly.
"Just three. That happens all the time with CPR," he said quickly.
"Oh. When will I get to go home?"
"I'm going to keep you here overnight for observation," Dr. Cullen said, and a rush of déjà vu swept through me, and flashbacks to the day I almost killed Bella Swan rushed through my mind. "The CT scan showed no sign of bleeding on the brain, but he fact that you blacked out for so long was concerning. How do you feel now?"
"Weird," I admitted, with a laugh. "I can't believe that I was dreaming about Edward proposing to Bella. How far out is that?"
Dr. Cullen reached for my arm and gave me a shot of something. "Sleep now," he said softly. "In the morning you won't be able to remember anything."
"Um…okay," I mumbled, feeling my consciousness slip away as the drug began to take effect. My head felt very heavy, and it became very hard to think. I stared at the pale doctor and blurted out the first thing I could think of.
"Dr. Cullen, you shouldn't wear that much Max Factor Pancake foundation makeup with pink lipstick. It looks pretty bad on you. And you're using way too much hair gel. It's just not flattering. I thought you ought to know."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said in a slightly amused voice.
"All right doc. Good bye. Thanks for all the fish." I was starting to feel very sleepy. Very very sleepy.
"Rest well, Tyler. Rest well," Dr. Cullen said.
