A Matter of Heart (25 page)

W
hen I open my eyes Monday morning, it's as if my brain is already up and anxious to get moving. The next half hour is going to be huge.

I rub sleep from my eyes and swallow. There's still a tiny aftertaste of Tabasco and it makes me smile. I think maybe I dreamt of Tabasco and sunsets and Alec.

Oh, Alec. He makes me feel…alive. I am alive. I laugh out loud—I can't help it. I'm going to stay that way too. I'm going to have everything. Why not? I've worked for it, haven't I?

I take a quick shower and brush my teeth. I pull my wet hair into a pony and tug on my favorite jeans and a white long-sleeve tee. I swipe on a layer of mascara and worry that my eyes are a little bright this morning. Well, nothing I can do about that. I flip off the bathroom light, grab my backpack from the bedroom, and head down the stairs.

Showtime.

With one last calming breath, I stride into the kitchen and dump my pack by the counter, like always. Mom is making a lunch for the office, and Dad is rinsing his coffee mug and making a mess at the sink, spraying water over the counters. I open the cupboard for my usual coffee mug, shuffle to the refrigerator, and pour my milk.

The water shuts off and I can hear the tiny whoosh of sound as Mom seals up a sandwich bag.

“Don't we get a good morning?” Mom asks.

I swallow a mouthful of milk. “Good morning.”

My voice is calm, but my skin prickles and I hope I'm not flushing red under my tan. I reach for the bottle of pills. Tiny, white, round. I shake one into my palm and I know she's watching. I swallow it.

Beta-blockers and baby aspirin taste exactly the same.

“P
ass me the black marker,” Jen says.

School ended an hour ago and the swim team has gathered at the picnic tables set up in the hallway in front of the gym. Jen and I are at opposite ends of a white poster board and filling in block letters that read
TAKE STATE, HORIZON
.

I'm not sure when this tradition started but it's pretty lame, if you ask me, making posters for ourselves. The guys are here too, but they're hanging out in the gym shooting hoops. They'll show up in a few minutes when the work is done and the snacks come out. Bree has brought whole-grain brownies and a cooler of juice boxes. The guys will hang the posters along the main walkway at school and then we'll munch.

I glance around, wrinkling my nose at the sharp smell of the markers. The three other posters are about done. They'll hang at Horizon this week, but then on Friday, Coach will make sure
they end up at Rivera Aquatic Center—the site for the state championship swim meet.

State is only four days away. I'm suddenly wound so tight I feel like the slightest misstep and I'll split apart in a million pieces. My heart races, but it's only nerves. In fact, it feels good. It feels normal to have a heart that works at all speeds again, and know that
I
can work at all speeds. In just a little while, I'll prove it too. But first I need to talk to Coach.

There he is, crossing from the office. As if the team has radar, the guys come out of the gym, Connor holding the ball and talking to Logan. Alec and Tanner are laughing about something, the other guys following behind. I need to talk to Coach before they distract him, but he's stopped to talk with a guy the size of a locker. Since Coach took over the Advanced PE classes, he's become buds with the football team too.

I cap my marker and stand up. Already my breath is coming faster, but I've got to keep calm. Can't let him think I'm nervous. Can't give him any reason to say no.

He's in a good mood, at least. He ribs Tanner about his new haircut, nods to Alec, and jokes with Bree about protein powder in her brownies. Then he's nearly to our table.

“Nice poster,” he says. “You just want to color those medals gold.”

Jen holds up a gold Sharpie. “Ahead of you, Coach. Always ahead of you.”

“Just as long as you're ahead of the competition,” he says.

They knock knuckles. It's a stupid gesture that's overused by everyone, including Coach. Still, I can't help feeling a stab of jealousy that it's for Jen and not me.

Then Coach turns to me and his eyes cloud. The smile fades.
I feel my shoulders lift because I'm going to give him a reason to smile in a few short days.

“You got a sec?” I ask.

“Absolutely.” He gestures to an empty table behind us. We walk together, me with my hands tucked in the back pockets of my jeans so they don't shake.

“How you feeling?” he asks.

“Good. Great, actually.”

He doesn't sit, so I don't either. Instead, he plants his legs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Your dad told me about the second opinion, but you already know that.”

I nod.

“I'm sorry, Abby. More than I can say. You've worked so hard for this and given up so much to be here. You don't deserve it.”

I blink hard, fighting the prickle at the corners of my eyes. “I'm not giving up, Coach.”

He nods. “Your dad says it's okay for you to swim in the fifty with your meds?”

I weave a stray hair behind my ear. “Right.”

“You know I want to see you out there, Abby.” He shifts his weight as if he's wrestling with his thoughts. “I have other kids who'd like that spot, but you earned it this year, and I'll give it to you if that's really what you want. But I hate to see you disappointed.”

Translation: He hates to see me lose
.

“I can swim, Coach. You won't be disappointed.”

It's obvious that he's not convinced, but he gives me another nod. “Okay. And when this season is over, I want to sit down and talk about the future.”

“Sure, Coach.”

He squeezes my arm. “You have more heart than anyone I know.”

A lump rises to my throat. I'm glad he turns away, because I don't think I could talk. But more than ever, after this, I know I'm right. I've seen pride in Coach's eyes. I've seen frustration, anger, worry, joy. But this is the first time I've seen pity.
Pity
. I'm Abby Lipman. The best swimmer on this team, one of the best swimmers in the world. I'm supposed to be happy with his
pity
? No thank you.

I take a long breath and get control again. I'm on the roster. It doesn't matter that Coach is doing it as a favor. He doesn't really know what to expect from me, but he should.

I'm going to remind him on Friday.

I look back at the tables. Everyone is gathered around. Jen is still putting the finishing touches on the poster. She'll be mad if I sneak out, but she won't know until I'm gone. I've pulled away from her the past couple of days and she's been careful to give me space. In a way, everyone is being careful. Connor and I passed in the halls today. We made eye contact—I even smiled a little—which is an improvement for us, because our official breakup happened by text. Thing is, I don't want his pity either. He needs someone perfect by his side so he can believe he's perfect too. I get that. But he misjudged me, like everyone else.

I'm Abby Lipman, and I'm a fighter. It's time I get in the pool and remember who I am and what I can do.

Today, the only thing floating through my bloodstream is baby aspirin.

F
ive minutes later, I'm in the parking lot. I've got Dad's car parked in the far aisle—perfect for a clean getaway. When I get past the other cars, there it is.

And there is Alec.

He's standing next to my car, his thumbs hooked in his jean pockets, his maroon tee bunched up at his waist. His posture says relaxed, but his face is saying I'm in for trouble.

Oh no
. My insides knot and my muscles tense. Right now, he's the last person I want to see but at the same time my blood is thrumming in my veins. He's also the person I most want to see.

“What are you doing here?” I move around him, sliding against the truck parked next to me. I click open the doors.

“Thought I'd get a ride to the pool.”

“I'm not going to the pool.”

“Then why do you have your swim bag?”

I throw it in the backseat. “No reason.”

He slides in front of my door before I can open it. I step back, but there's not much room.

“No reason why you snuck out of there?”

“I didn't sneak.”

“Sorry. No reason why you backed up softly on the balls of your feet and then started running when you thought you were in the clear?”

“I didn't—” I stop. No way did he see me running, did he? My face feels hot. “I don't have time for this.”

“Abby—”

“You promised.”

“You promised too,” he says. “That you wouldn't do anything stupid. But I got this feeling.” He shakes his head. “I got this feeling you're doing something very, very stupid.”

“You're paranoid.”

“Am I?”

“Come on, Alec. We've been through this.”

“So let me come with.”

“I'm not going to Lifeline.”

“Then where?”

Fear has blossomed inside my chest, forcing my lungs to work hard for air. “Would you just get out of the way? Please?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” I lift my gaze to his, and I'm held by the change in his eyes. The fierceness melts away and the brown depths warm me like hot chocolate. “What's it worth to you?” he says in a low murmur.

“Alec.” I mean it to sound like a warning, but the tremor firing up my spine reaches my voice and makes it shake.

He lifts a hand and I feel just the brush of his fingers against my temple. My stomach tightens. “I've been thinking about you all day. Thinking about last night.” His voice is a whisper, but it reaches somewhere deep inside of me.

My lips part on a sigh.

“One kiss?”

“Alec—” But even as I say his name, I'm lifting my mouth to his. My arms tighten around his neck and my insides loosen and turn liquid. My breath is gone; my heart races. He tilts my head and deepens the kiss and I feel like the sun has come out and is beaming down on me, sparking heat inside and out.

When he finally pulls away, I'm breathless and foggy. He kisses my neck and trails his fingers down my arm, stopping at my wrists.

The sharp pressure against the inside of my wrist is what startles my head clear.

I blink up at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “What are you doing?”

His pupils are flared wide, his jaw suddenly hard and his lips set in a determined line. He's got his fingers pressed to where my heart taps out a beat against my skin.

I yank my arm away. “You're taking my pulse?”

“Your heart is beating as fast as mine,” he bites out. “Too fast for someone taking beta-blockers.”

“You can't know that.”

Anger rises to my rescue. He kissed me like that to prove a point? I shove him back using my fists against his chest.

He barely budges. “I've seen you swim on beta-blockers and I know you can't compete. Not really. So why were you telling Coach you're ready to go? I heard you.”

“This is not about you.”

“I'm not going to let you kill yourself.”

“I know what I'm doing, Alec.”

“The hell you do!”

Fury pounds at my temples. I should have known not to let him in. “You're not going to take this away from me.”

“I'm not doing anything,” he says, leaning in. “It's your heart that isn't following along with the plan.”

“My heart is just fine.”

His jaw tightens. “I'm going to tell Coach.”

He turns back toward the gym and I reach out, my traitorous heart thudding. I get a fistful of his shirt, but it's enough. He stops.

“Alec, no!”

He turns back, and I can tell he's twisted up over this. “I can't stand by and watch you risk your life.”

“I'm going to be fine. It's twenty-six seconds, and I can handle it.”

“Then you tell Coach.”

“I'll tell him Saturday, after I swim. And if you tell him before that, I swear I won't forgive you. Not ever.”

“I'll take that risk.”

Why is he doing this to me? Why is he making me do this to him?

“If you do, I'll tell Coach about the albuterol. I'll tell him you cheated during a sanctioned swim meet. You think he'll still let you swim?”

He kicks at the tire, an explosion of anger. “This is your
life
!”

“Exactly.” A car rolls by puffing black fumes, but it feels there's already a cloud around us. “You think Stanford will give you a second look if they know you cheated? It won't matter what times you post. You'll be over.”

It's a low blow and the words taste like metal in my mouth. But I mean this. By the icy glare in his eyes, Alec knows it. He's looking at me like I'm a stranger. Something in his eyes is ugly. I have to look away.

“You've been lying to me all along, haven't you? Last night, what was that? More lies?”

“No. We were hanging out. Having a good time.”

“Because I thought it meant something,” he snaps. “I thought it was something real.” He shakes his head. “Were you just keeping me in line? Figure a few kisses and I'll go along with whatever?”

“It wasn't like that. Last night wasn't about swimming.”

His eyes widen suddenly. “Is that why you gave Miley your necklace? Because you're going to die?”

“What? No!”

“That's what she's going to think when you kill yourself on Friday.”

“I'm not going to kill myself! Will you just wait and give me a chance? Why can't you believe in me? Be there for me? You of all people should understand.”

He backs away and the look on his face makes my stomach cramp. “You think you're so special. The sad thing is that so did I. But you don't care about anything, not even yourself.” He shakes his head. “You and me, we're over. And if you show up to swim at State, I'll stop you.”

He walks away, not bothering to turn around. I fumble with the car door, finally getting it open, and climb in. I punch the wheel with one fist and squeeze back even the idea of tears. He's wrong. I do care—too much. Maybe he wants to act all noble, but what drew him to me in the first place? It was my spirit. My fight. My heart!

I start the engine and back up. As I pull out onto the street, I'm churning with emotions and a pain I know will set in when I realize what I've just done to Alec. But I also feel a sense of relief. My head is pounding, tears are burning behind my eyes, and my gut is a mass of twisted knots. But my heart is steady and rock solid.

Bmm bmm bmm bmm

I can do this.