Swim the Fly Read Online Free Page B

it’s a long shot, but I’m hoping that ifI practice hard enough over the next few weeks, maybe I won’t make a total ass of myself by the time championships roll around.”
    “Okay, well . . .” Coop bites his lower lip to stop himself from cracking up. “You give us a call when you’ve rejoined us here on planet Earth.”
    This causes Sean to choke on his shake mid-sip.
    I don’t bother responding. I just turn and go.

I CATCH THE THICK SMELL of meat loaf as soon as I enter the house. It’s only four o’clock. We never eat before six. Something’s up.
    I head into the kitchen, where Grandpa’s in his usual position, hunched over the table, playing solitaire.
    “Hi, Grandpa,” I say.
    “Don’t talk to me. I’m on a roll.” He counts out three cards and flips them over. “Goddamn it. You jinxed me.”
    “Ignore him. He’s just grouchy,” Mom says. She’s in her peach-patterned apron, at the stove, adding milk to a pot of boiled potatoes. “Mrs. Hoogenboom decided she didn’t feel like going for coffee today after all. Go figure.”
    “Sorry, Grandpa.”
    Grandpa Arlo waves this off. “Please. You think I’m discouraged? Nothing worth getting is easy.” He shuffles the cards and starts dealing them out again.
    “I’m glad you’re home,” Mom says, adding a few shakes of salt to the pot. “I forgot to tell you. I’ve got aNutraWorld meeting tonight. They’re introducing a new product. An organic laxative. Everyone’s very excited.”
    “You don’t want to get too excited where laxatives are concerned,” Grandpa says, moving a red jack onto a black queen. “Trust me.”
    Mom ignores this. “We’re having an early dinner.”
    “I just had a burrito at the mall,” I say.
    “That’s fine.” Mom grabs the masher and starts in on the potatoes. “You’ll sit with us and you can have leftovers later.”
    “But I was gonna go to the pool.”
    Mom stops mid-mash and looks at me. “We eat dinner as a family. You know how I feel about that.”
    The thing about having a father who leaves your mother for a younger woman is that it’s not only a cliché; it’s also a pain in the ass. It makes you feel so bad for your mom that you can’t argue any of her rules anymore. Especially the ones from after the divorce. Like this “we eat as a family” rule. What are you supposed to say to that?
    Still, I have to get to the pool before it closes. I need to get in some practice before anyone on the swim team sees that I can’t actually do the butterfly. Especially Kelly. I figure if I can work on my fly every afternoon for the next month or so, I’ll eventually be able to do it well enough to try it at swim practice. And, hopefully, championships.
    “When will it be ready?” I say, glancing at the rooster clock on the wall.
    “Fifteen minutes.”
    I do the math. Eat at four fifteen. An hour for dinner and cleanup. Five fifteen. Ten minutes to the pool. Pool closes at six. That’ll give me thirty-five minutes to practice if I get right to it.
    “Would you tell your brother and Melissa dinner’s almost ready?” Mom asks. “They’re up in his room.”
    “Goddamn two of diamonds,” Grandpa says, smacking his pile of discards.
    I leave the kitchen and cross through the dining room. Climb the stairs and turn left down the hall. Pete’s bedroom door is shut, so I lean in and listen to make sure I’m not interrupting anything. There are whispers coming from inside, and then Melissa laughs and there’s the creak of the bed. I lean in a little closer and listen a little harder. Melissa laughs again and I’m imagining all kinds of things going on in there.
    I hold my breath and get down on the floor, careful not to make any noise. I move my ear close to the open space between the door and the carpet. I feel a cool breeze on my cheek. They must have the window open. There’s more movement in the bedroom, the squeak of the mattress, more whispers. I shift a little to try and hear better.
    And