Page 22 of What Did I Miss?

Makayla frowns. What has one got to do with the other, and why is Cece choosing this particular moment to spiral? With seven years of friendship under their belt, Makayla knows Cece doesn’t respond well to tough love. Instead, she holds her tongue, hoping Cece will talk herself out of here.

‘Everyone looks their best on their wedding day and I’m going to look my worst. I can’t get married looking like a cupcake.

When I told Jimmy, he said we’ll get in shape together.

You saw him. He’s lost ten kilos, and they seem to have found their way to me.

The man has a two-pack, for crying out loud.

Please don’t make me stand in front of all those kids half-naked. ’ Cece sobs into her hands.

This is worse than Makayla thought, and it explains a lot about Cece’s lack of interest in wedding planning. What’s the right thing to say in this situation?

‘If Tilly was worried about wearing swimmers at school sports, what would you say to her?’ Reverse psychology should do the trick.

‘I’d remind her she’s perfect, and all that other body positivity hoopla. I know this must sound superficial to you, but I don’t feel like myself anymore.’

Makayla notices she said feel instead of look . Maybe there’s more going on here than just wedding day size pressure – which means the problem isn’t her stomach, it’s inside her head. If that’s true, it’s going to take a lot longer than the few minutes they have left to sort it out.

‘There you two are.’ Imogen swings the door open. ‘Jeffrey’s called your names five times. Are you coming or what?’

‘Just me. Cece can’t swim today. It’s that time of the month.’ If the year nines can use that excuse, so can she.

Imogen wrinkles her nose.

‘We’ll talk later, I promise.’ Makayla squeezes Cece’s hand, not wanting to let go.

Imogen pries them apart and frog-marches Makayla to where Rongo’s waiting.

‘Geez, cutting it close. Where’s Cece? Did she flake?’ he asks.

‘She’s sick. What? She is. I’ll swim first and last.’

‘You sure?’

No. ‘I’ll have plenty of time to recover.’

Makayla climbs onto the starting block, distracted by the students, who’ve finally given their phones a rest to stomp their feet on the bleachers in support.

Ebony leads a ‘Mak! Mak! Mak!’ chant – probably a passive-aggressive dig at Beau, but if it makes him lose his nerve, so be it.

That’s the price he has to pay for going over to the dark side.

The cohort sits on the sidelines divided into house teams of blue, green, red and yellow. Not that you’d know, because the majority aren’t wearing their assigned colours, opting for brand-name threads instead. It looks more like a fashion show than a school event.

Glancing to the right, looking for one last chance to rattle Agnes, Makayla’s surprised to see Beau there. Agnes and Makayla always battle it out first. Why the change?

‘Good luck,’ Beau says, with boy scout charm.

He flashes a smile warmer than freshly baked cookies that transports Makayla back to the night they met, when he made her insides gooey. She tried to – and continues to – stop him getting through her hard outer shell, but he nibbles away as though he knows the middle is soft.

‘Makayla! What are you waiting for? Go!’ Rongo’s scream pierces her thoughts.

Beau ploughs through the water, leaving behind a trail of foam. Did she miss the siren? How?

Makayla launches forward, belly whacking the surface instead of performing the technical dive she’s been perfecting for months.

Her goggles fill up, and without thinking, she flicks them off.

Eyes burn like hell as she zigzags down the lane, bumping into the ropes.

With each breath, she chokes on a sour liquid that brings about a coughing fit. Has she forgotten how to swim?

While she’s tiptoeing along the bottom of the pool to regroup, Beau tags his next team member. Makayla charges ahead, freestyling at turbo speed until she reaches the wall. Imogen swan dives over the top of her.

The edge is slimy and Makayla’s body feels like dead weight as she tries to pull herself up. She slips, and sinks into the deep end in despair. A strong hand attaches to her wrist, lifting her to safety, where oxygen is limitless. She wolfs it down between bark-like coughs.

‘Are you okay?’ Beau asks.

Makayla attempts to answer, but can’t get her brain to connect with her mouth. How much water did she swallow? The roar of the crowd turns into white noise and their faces blur. The only person in focus is Agnes, zipped up in a full body suit that was banned at the Olympics.

‘She put him first. She knew .’ Makayla’s unaware she’s verbalising her thoughts. ‘He smiled. I tingled. Clever, clever witch.’

‘Makayla? Makayla!’ Beau snaps his fingers in front of her. ‘Why don’t you take a seat?’ He hovers with his arms out wide, like he’s rounding up a sheep.

‘Can’t. Cece won’t swim.’ She swats him away to get to the edge of the pool.

Rongo and the third member of The Sharks are neck and neck when they hit the halfway mark. Imogen must’ve thrashed her opponent to make up the distance. Makayla loses balance twice climbing onto the block to prepare for the final leg. She fights the wobbles, curling into a diving position.

‘Let me go!’ she screams when an arm wraps around her waist and lifts her onto the ground.

‘I’m switching teams,’ Beau announces.

He plunges into the water before she can protest, let alone understand what’s happening.

In the blink of an eye, Beau and Agnes zoom towards the finish line. Their arms chop like blades, making it hard to tell who gets there first.

‘We won!’ Rongo beats his chest to celebrate, spurring on the spectators.

‘Are you sure?’ Makayla asks repeatedly, dragged to where the teams are congregating around Jeffrey.

‘He can’t swap teams. That’s against the rules,’ Agnes cries. ‘Disqualify them.’

‘It’s just a silly race. Better luck next year.’ Jeffrey shoos them out of the way, returning to the microphone to call the names of the next contestants.

Agnes shoots Beau a lethal stare and storms off, muttering about yard duty.

‘Why did you do that?’ Makayla asks Beau.

‘Winning meant a lot to you. At least now you don’t have to go out with me. As much as I want to, I can’t imagine it’d be fun hanging out with someone against their will.’ Even though he laughs, she sees disappointment in his eyes.

‘Technically, you won, and it’d be unsportswomanlike if I backed out of our deal. I’d like to go, if you still want to?’ He saved her from drowning; it’s the least she can do.

‘Whoa, are you feeling all right? We better get you to a hospital.’ He chuckles. ‘I suppose we could go out tomorrow night to celebrate our victory. Leave it with me.’

He flashes a smile as knee-weakening as the one before the race. Dizziness returns. Is this date a good idea, or is she out of her depth?