Goldfish (23 page)

Their routine comes to a triumphant end. I hear loud applause and then it quiets down, but I can't hear the judges' feedback, just the rumble of voices. I push my ear to the curtain and try to make out words, but I'm almost knocked off my feet by the team striding confidently backstage and waving over their shoulders at the audience.

Their jubilant mood doesn't last as Debs looms out of the darkness like a shark.

“
What
was that dive, Melia?”

Ugh, I think to myself, I do
not
miss that.

I look back and catch Hannah's eye, and she's clearly thinking the same thing. Debs doesn't even notice her one-time star swimmer standing in the shadows; she's too busy bullying her team all the way back to their dressing room. Like she used to do to me, back when she cared.

“OK,” breathes Pete, interrupting my happy thoughts. “Show-time.”

We snap our goggles into place. Gabriel holds out his arm and we give him our towels. I realize I'm still wearing the whistle, and after a moment's hesitation I take it off and place it around his neck.

“Good luck, Goldfish,” he says, and kisses me on the cheek (but sort of near the mouth). I think that might technically count as my first kiss.

That is one impressively hot blush I have here. You could cook an egg on my head. Come on, Team, focus! (And yes, I've decided to start calling myself Team.)

The stagehands finish mopping up the water, the music starts again, and I hear the booming tones of the voice-over.

“Bwuuuur bwurrr BWWUUUURRRRR!” he shouts.

That's us, we're BWWUUUURRRR!

Roman strides out first, and I follow, Pete behind me. I feel calm all of a sudden. There's no point being scared; it is just going to happen now.

All my swimming training asserts itself and I start regulating my breathing.

You'd think it would feel weird being nearly naked in front of so many people, but it doesn't. I ping my swimsuit straps for luck, once right, twice left.

We climb the stairs up to the tank, and my knees shake with every step. My body feels unresponsive, as if I've borrowed it from someone for an hour. How do you
work
this thing? Where are the gears?

The three of us line up along the edge of the pool. I look down, then up, panicked—it's just a pool like last time—the sides are filled in! Please tell me this isn't going to happen to us again!

Six big men appear from the side of the stage and, in one dramatic move, pull away the plastic boards surrounding the pool. There's a
whoomph!
and lights shine through the water, dappling the faces of the judges and the audience with blue glimmerings. The lights move slowly, drifting past the tank—it's like they're recreating the acquarium video. Hope they didn't add an eel.

For the first time I catch a glimpse of the judges. I recognize them from the TV. There are two men and two women and they're all staring fixedly at us with slight frowns on their faces. What's this? they're thinking.

This
is Lou Brown and the Aquarium Boys.

 

chapter 35

The music swells and fills the auditorium. We've spent weeks swimming to the music coming out of Lav's crappy little speaker dock, but this music is like a fireball hurling out from the stage. I can feel the bass vibrating in my ribs!

We raise our hands above our heads. There's a hushed silence as we wait for our cue. I can't begin to think about how many people are staring at us from the silent darkness behind the stage lights, so I fix my eyes on the water and visualize my dive.

Which is perfect. I feel the boys hit the water cleanly either side of me, and we corkscrew to the bottom, where everything is silent and calm.

We somersault backward in unison and I speed up as the others slow down. I watch the boys carefully out of the corner of my eye, then I rise up and they dive beneath me, push off from the bottom, hold a foot and a calf each and raise me into the air. I break the surface of the water and almost fall because I'm deafened by the roaring sound in the studio. Everyone is cheering!

The boys throw me up into the air and I somersault, knees tucked hard to my chest. I catch a quick glimpse of the judges' table before I dive down to the bottom and I'm back into the routine.

We swim around each other in a circle, then Pete peels off to lie on the floor of the pool, followed by me, then Roman. It sounds unspectacular, but it takes such control. You have to let all of the air out of your body, and we each exhale at a precise moment so that bubbles rush up from Pete, then me, then Roman. We slap our feet and upper arms on the bottom of the pool, push up hard, and kick with mermaid legs to reach the surface. By now we have no air left in our lungs and it takes a superhuman effort.

I always thought this would be the part that drowned Gabe. I'd watch him do this with my heart in my throat, poised to grab him and pull him out of the pool, but he always struggled through. It makes my head spin and my ears ring—that's why we put it at the end.

We lie on our backs on the surface of the pool like starfish, with our arms and legs interlocking. We need this bit to get our breath back for the final push, so as the music builds, we're panting and waiting for our cue. This is the moment where the bass swells, we thrust our arms above our heads, and dive backward underwater.

The routine ends with the three of us motionless.

Arms crossed over our chests.

Underwater.

Heads down.

Boom.

It gave
me
shivers watching the boys do that, through misted-up goggles in our school swimming pool with wart remover strips drifting past. It must look incredible now!

We surface and splash toward each other for a painfully hard group hug, which is a lot of slippery naked skin on skin.

We break apart prit-ty quick.

Gabe falls up the metal stairs to hug Roman, who pulls him into the water, and we're all hugging each other again. And then sinking, because that's how water works. And hugging and sinking again, because we're too excited to think straight. I can't believe we've actually done it! I don't even care what the judges thought!

Well … I do a little. So we swim to the edge of the pool, panting and pulling off our goggles. The judges are laughing and applauding, and the comedian is even wiping at his eyes.

“Well,” says the mean one, spreading his hands wide as if he has no words, which makes the audience burst into roars and cheers again. It's deafening, actually painful to hear, but we're wincing and laughing.

“What even
is
that?” The pop star judge laughs and I shrug modestly like, “Just some new shizzle.” We look at each other—we never really gave it a name, and I think if I said the words
synchronized
and
swimming
in front of everyone, Pete might push me out of the tank.

My hand slips off the edge of the pool and I put it back on again. But it slips off again and so does Gabe's. We glance at our hands, then each other, but the judges are still talking, so we try to focus on them. There's a ripple in the water, a strange
Jurassic Park
—style vibration that Roman and Pete don't seem to feel but Gabe and I do.

The surface of the water looks strange, and other people are beginning to notice it too. A couple of the stagehands walk briskly toward us, and the audience falls silent, confused.

Whenever I remember this bit later, it's always in slow motion. Maybe it was so unexpected that that's the only speed I could process it at.

One side of this
massive
tank detaches and falls backward, off the stage.

I watch it fall with a dreamy indifference, and I'm vaguely aware of shouting, and someone grabs at my arms, but they can't hang on to me. My legs are cold and everything feels suddenly hazy.

The four of us lurch downward as the rest of the pool collapses and the water races toward the judges. Nothing feels like slow motion anymore. Gabe and I clutch hold of each other as the water throws us toward the judges' table and my head is submerged. Burning water shoots up my nose. I need to cough. I wrench my head upward, but there's just more water. Where
is
up? I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, then people screaming, then heartbeat again as my head is ducked in and out of water.

There's a sharp pain in my lower back as I hit something—the table, a camera, a person…? Gabe's hand slips from mine. I grab fruitlessly at nothing but can't find him again, and for the second time that month, I lose consciousness.

 

chapter 36

I wake up to bright lights, the rustle of crisp sheets, and a strangely familiar pressure on my chest. You only get tucked in this hard at the hospital.

It's a sign of an “interesting” life when you wake up in hospital so regularly that you can guess where you are with your eyes closed.

When I open them, Mom and Lav are sitting by the bed. Dad's in a chair in the corner—just like our last visit. But no one's crying this time.

They look delighted to see I'm awake and grin at me. The mood is definitely less serious. A nurse comes in to adjust my drip and check my charts. I think I recognize her from the last time.

Ugh, except this time it feels like I'm wearing a polo shirt made of cement. I'm in a neck brace and it's giving me an unfortunate double chin. I prop my jaw on the side, hoping that helps.

Lav gets to the point with characteristic gentleness. “Now that you're not dead, do you want the good news or the bad news?”

My throat hurts, so I hold up one finger, choosing option one.

“You nearly killed the judges of
BHT
.”

I raise my eyebrows high.

She shrugs. “Well, I think they're annoying. I think it's a fine achievement.”

“The boys are OK,” says Dad. “You got the worst of it.”

I roll my eyes. 'Course I did.

“Now get some rest,” says Mom, putting a cool hand on my forehead. I turn my head to one side, trying to get comfortable, basking in the glow of our amazing performance. All that hard work, the nerves and the disasters, it was all worth it! We're TV stars.

I smile to myself, closing my eyes. I don't think I've ever been this happy. I'm a winner again—the Goldfish returns from the dead!

I have the unmistakable feeling I'm being watched. I open my eyes, and Mom, Dad, and Lav are all gathered tightly around my bed, looking at me. Dad brushes my hair back from my face. Aaah, love my family.

I close my eyes again.

I open them again. Family still clustered around my bed.

OK, gang. It's been emotional, but give a girl some
space.
How am I meant to have a nap while you're all gazing at me like I've just been born? Although I suppose I should get used to this; famous people have to put up with it all the time.

Imagine how everyone at school is going to act around me now? Cammie's gonna be gutted! Maybe Melia will finally get the guts to talk to me? Can't promise I'll be too excited. After all, I've got friends now, real friends.

Mom interrupts the little victory parade in my head.

“Lou. You were wonderful out there. It was a beautiful routine, wasn't it?” She turns to Dad and Lav.

“Amazing.” Lav nods. “You're a choreographer!”

“Weirdest thing I've ever seen,” says Dad honestly. “Don't know what goes on in that head of yours.”

“We're all so proud of you.” Mom smooths my hair behind my ear. “But you didn't get through to the next round.”

I blink at her.

I think I must've gone temporarily insane. Because, and you'll laugh when I tell you, it's so ridiculous, but it
sounded
like she just said—

“You didn't go through. Debs's team did,” says Lav, clearly going for the “rip the Band-Aid off quickly” approach.

“WHAT?” I croak. My jaw slips off the side of the neck brace.

“Darling,” says Mom, “they couldn't use the footage.”

“They think the damage to the stage, crew, and audience might run to six figures,” Dad chips in.

“They might have to delay the next series because so many of the crew and judges are injured.” Lav brings up the rear of the Bad News conga.

“I see. Anything else?”

“I got a parking ticket,” Dad complains. “Which I'm appealing, because the sign said…” He subsides at a look from Lav. “Nothing else, that's all.”

“Try to get some sleep,” says Mom, and they all tiptoe out of the room to leave me “in peace.” Aka to stew in my rage.

I spend the next few days in the hospital, having X-rays to check that I haven't chipped my spine or anything fun like that. Thankfully, I'm not the unluckiest person in the world, and I just have bruises.

After a day or so, Gabe hobbles in to see me with a sprained ankle and a bandage on his throat. He has a proud smile on his face and presents me with the sign from our dressing room:
Lou Brown and the Aquarium Boys
.

“Did they give you that?” I ask, delighted.

“Not exactly.”

I turn the sign over and see large chips of paint on the back where he wrestled it off the door.

I examine the sign extremely carefully, suddenly a little shy. Gabe sits on my bed, but my bedsheets are tucked in so tightly that I'm pulled toward him until I'm lying on my side. We're very close now, and when I look up, his face is very near mine. And all I can think is, Beau Michaels tongue worms, Beau Michaels tongue worms.

Lav! She's psychologically scarred me before I got a chance to do any kissing of my own! I think angrily, but only for a second, because Gabe moves his face closer to mine and suddenly I
am
kissing. Gabe's lips are soft, and there is no darting tongue action at all. I feel smug. I'm clearly having better kissing than Lav was. I smell the sweet hair product from the aquarium and realize that was Gabe, not Roman.