Page 29

With my arms firmly crossed over my chest, I watch the mayhem of teenagers performing drills in the pool.

My gaze flicks from swimmer to swimmer, taking quick mental notes about what needs to be adjusted and worked on.

When I glance at the clock on the wall, I notice Bryce walking toward me. I try not to let myself tense.

Where the hell is she?

“Looking good,” he comments when he reaches me. He stands beside me in a position that mirrors my own, watching silently for a minute or so. “Aren’t you missing someone, though?”

“Yup,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

From the beginning, I’ve made it clear to Emmie that if she wants to do this, she needs to commit.

She’d promised she would and has been following through on that promise, until recently.

In the last ten days, she’s been late to over half the practices with little to no explanation.

Whenever I try to ask her about it, she gets out of the water or runs off to the locker room to change and go home.

“How many times has she been late?”

“Enough,” I bite out. “The last two weeks have been the worst. I’m going to talk to her. ”

“The season is coming up, dude. You don’t want a swimmer who doesn’t show up for her team. I thought she wanted to swim relays?”

I’d already put several swimmers through mock relay races, trying to figure out our strengths and what areas we need to strengthen.

What athletes swim it well together, and which ones don’t.

Swimming may seem like an individual sport, but it’s not.

And when you commit to a team, you’re expected to show up when you’re supposed to.

I turn to Bryce. “She’s usually about ten to fifteen minutes late. If she comes in, tell her not to change but to come talk to me. Get Carter to bring me the kickboards his group used, and she’ll clean them.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Are we about to see hard-ass Coach O’Brien?”

Rolling my eyes, I bite back a smile. “Don’t pretend like the hard-ass coaches weren’t the ones who made all the difference.”

“Hell yeah they did.” He raises a fist, and I bump mine against it. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

As requested, Carter brings out a couple of large bags full of the used kickboards with the disinfectant she’ll need to use. He doesn’t say anything, but he knows exactly why I’d ask for something like this.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Emmie is heading down the length of the pool, still dressed, a bashful smile in place.

The rest of the team is taking a water break. I turn my focus to them and blow my whistle. Their gazes snapped toward me, listening as I give them a set I know will keep them occupied while I talk to Emmie. Once they are all back to what they were doing, I turn to Emmie.

“Coach Bryce told me not to change?” She gnaws on her lip in uncertainty. “I’m sorry I was late—”

“Again,” I add. “You were late again. I told you there would be consequences if you weren’t taking this seriously.”

Panic washes over her. “Are you kicking me off the team?”

“No.” I frown, a little surprised that’s the conclusion she jumped to.

“But you will not be participating in tonight’s practice.

Instead, you’ll sit on the bleachers and clean the kickboards Coach Abrams used.

They’re used for the ten and under team, and then during open swim.

They need to be disinfected thoroughly.”

“But, Coach—”

I cut her protests off with a raised hand. “You will also pay attention to your teammates while they’re practicing. Since we’re still working on your form and technique, I want you to spot a minimum of ten things that need to be improved.”

As I hand her a spare sheet of paper and pen from my clipboard, she opens her mouth to protest again, but shuts it when my brow arches. “Yes, Coach.”

Throughout the rest of practice, I look over to check in on Emmie.

I don’t like punishing swimmers, but I know the value of committed teammates and how those teammates who aren’t can drag a team down.

Every single kid on this team has their own goals, whether to continue in this sport professionally or to use it as an avenue to other paths, and it would make me a bad coach if I prioritized one swimmer over the rest. Especially when that swimmer isn’t showing up.

To my relief, every time I look at her, she’s doing what I asked.

She diligently cleans the kickboards, making sure to go over them at least twice before placing them in the clean bin.

Her attention is still completely on her teammates, though, eyes tracking their movements the same way mine do.

When she finishes the kickboards, she moves off the bleacher and comes to sit at the edge of the pool.

She stays there until I blow the whistle, dismiss practice, and all her teammates head toward the locker room.

She only offers small waves as they pass her.

“We need to talk, Emmie,” I tell her once the rest of the kids are out of earshot.

I move to sit on the bleacher she’d vacated, and she turns to face me.

If my leg wasn’t killing me, I’d consider getting down to her level, but the likelihood of me getting up is too slim. “And I need real answers this time.”

“I don’t mean to be late, Coach,” she begins, without any prompting. “Things have been a little…hectic at home.”

I notice her hesitation. “Hectic how?”

“I’m a little overwhelmed.” She frowns, taking a moment to think through what she’s going to say. “My mom has been working crazy hours, and I’m trying to keep things organized at home, but things are slipping through.”

“If you’re too overwhelmed, you can take a step—”

“No!” She looks at me with wide, pleading eyes. “Swimming is the best thing I have going right now. It’s my only thing. Everything else is for my family, and I don’t mind that, but I can’t lose the one thing I love.”

I see a lot of my younger self in her. I clung to swimming for a long time.

It was the only lifeline I had to a life that was mine and not the life my parents wanted me to have.

It wasn’t until they started noticing just how good I was at the sport that things started to shift.

Slowly, it changed from the thing I loved more than anything to the thing that let me feel like myself while not being mine.

I got lost in the expectations of my parents within the sport.

Emmie’s family isn’t using her talent for their own gain, but they are keeping her from her passions by having her pick up their slack. It’s not the first time I’ve seen this, and it’s not the first time I’ve worked around it. I’m happy to do it again, but I need to know she still wants it .

“I understand where you’re coming from, but you also have to consider your team and the promises you made them,” I remind her.

I won’t hold the scholarship over her head, never wanting to be that coach who puts a monetary value on a kid’s place on their team.

I’ve met too many of those, too. “Clearly, if you want to continue on this team, we need to figure out how to help you balance your responsibilities. Tell me what I can do.”

There’s a flash of something in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can even begin to decipher it.

“There’s nothing to do,” she tells me. “My mother’s schedule is going to go back to normal by next practice; I’ll be able to get to practice on time like I’ve been doing. I promise, this won’t happen again.”

“That’s not a promise a fifteen-year-old can make, Emmie.

” Real life will always come before swimming, no matter how much the kids might wish it otherwise.

“Being late to practice every once in a while is going to happen, Emmie. I need you to communicate with me—call the front desk, send me an email, text me. Just let me know you’ll be late, and we can work around it.

If I wanted to do relay drills with you tonight, I could restructure the order of practice, but I can’t do that if I don’t know you’ll be late. ”

She nods with a chastised look. “I didn’t mean to let you or the team down, Coach.”

“It’s okay.” The last thing I want is for her to beat herself up over this. “Commitment can look different from what you initially expect. Learning to adjust when things don’t go according to plan is part of what I’m hoping to teach you guys.”

“You can plan and practice all you want,” she parrots, making me smile, “but you never know how a race will go until you swim it.”

I grin back at her. “Glad to know someone is paying attention.” She laughs. “Get out of here. I don’t want to keep you too late. ”

She’s still laughing as she stands, but then it fades, and she smiles shyly. “Thanks, Coach.”

My brow arches. “For?”

“Believing in me?” she replies with a shy shrug. “Not giving up on me? Maybe both? I don’t know. I’m not used to either one.”

“First of all, you’re worth believing in and I don’t give up on anyone. You’re here because you’re talented, and there are a lot of people backing you up.”

Cheeks flushed, she nods, and ducks her head, heading toward the locker room. I can’t ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut that something else is going on, that there’s something she’s not sharing.

“Emmie!” She turns to face me. “If you ever need help, no matter what it is, we’re all here for you. Do you understand?”

Her mouth opens slowly, but then promptly snaps shut.

She nods quickly before turning back to hustle to the locker room.

I realize in that moment, the look I couldn’t read was fear.

Which confirms there’s something more going on, but I can’t burst in and demand answers.

I have no proof, nothing to base those concerns on.

There’s no physical evidence, and she’s never asked for help, but I’ll make sure every adult in this building knows to keep an eye out for her.

I’ve done this enough times to know when a kid needs help.

“Oh, my god, Lezak! Get back here!”