Swimming Read Online Free

tan face, the wind grabbing and tearing at the trees, thunder growling somewhere beyond the horizon, and my ringlets disappear instantly back into straight hair. Leonard winks a tired wink as a million Cocoplats swoon over Lilly in unison and Mom holds me so tight the seams in the Cassandra begin to strain.
    The Longbranch Family Diner, as usual, is packed. I open my gifts: a coupon for Dilly Bars, a gold pendant—chalice shining, a thin envelope containing fresh green dollars. I order sweet ribs, eat them fervently. Leonard and Mother discuss their old tired things. Bron fixes the clasp of my necklace, whispering into my ear: Just tell me what happened to Baby Lenny and I give you my solemn oath I won’t mention it ever again . She lowers her voice into creepy: If not, it’s war .
    The Cocoplats must be dancing under the tent by now, helium balloons rising from their trees like majestic pink and silver grapes. Lilly’s dumped the veil, is wearing her favorite tiara. Leonard’s explaining things to Roxanne as Dot listens intently. I look at my sweet ribs, no longer hungry. I don’t know that death can waltz into life with a sharp pair of scissors, cutting someone out so neatly that all that’s left is an empty space that should have been full. I think Bron will be with me forever, part of my landscape, and although I know war isn’t good, any-thing’s better than that look she gets on her face when she wins. I pull myself from her grip, giving her one of my mean looks with a sick feeling in my gut as the mangy bear jumps in front of our table, grabs its fake banjo, and begins to play

I-da-ho Po-ta-toes
Arizona Cac——tus
The Dolphins Gonna Swim You
Just for Prac——tice
    A northern wind is blowing across the plains, down into the Shawnee valley, whipping up snow against the side of our rented school bus, pushing it aside in gusts as we speed along Highway 5. We’re eating candy on our way home from an out-of-town meet, muscles relaxing into box seats, hair drying under wool caps. We’ve drawn motivational images on the humidity of the windows. When we were younger, we drew happy fast dolphins, number 1! the best! winner! Now it’s our competition riddled in fat with tufts of body hair sticking out of their suits, slumped on the starting blocks like sick snails covered in inflammatory acne with Shawnee arrows running through their flabby asses. We can wipe it out if Coach Stan decides to walk back, but he sticks to the front, checking stats. We sing and stomp with both feet for maximum auditory impact: Oommm chagga chagga chagga oommm chagga cha as the bus coughs through tunnels of snow and the sky darkens around the edges before slipping completely into black.
    There’s a sword above my head just waiting to fall. Leonard let it be known that as soon as I reached junior high, education would take priority and my Dipping Dolphin Aquatic Club days would be reduced to summer hobby. This is my last full year of exciting Dolphin weekends and I’m pretending to know it.
    Coach Stan clicks his penlight on and calls us up one by one for our evaluations.
    He looks at me, sighs: Sit down. Inconsistent. Apt to have an amazing set on Friday, then a perfectly lousy race. I was expecting something different from you today, thought maybe for once you’d break away … use some of that energy—
    I interrupt: We won .
    Did we? he says.
    My heart sinks; this is going to take a while.
    Did you lower your time?
    No .
    Improve your technique?
    I look out the window as the car passing below gets illuminated in a flash by a yellow highway light before disappearing back into empty road.
    And how about the breathing …
    I sigh. I was breathing .
    He looks at me. I can’t be trusted. Not until I face the truth.
    I look back. We won, Coach Stan. They went down .
    He clicks his pen on and off with his thumb, thinking. You can see the reddish tinge of his blood through the warmth of the light.
    You’re not hungry .
    I am hungry ,