Page 3 of The Beta Test

“No! But like… when did he get so big? He’s massive. I remember when he was a head shorter than you not that long ago.”

“I know. It’s so annoying. Whatever. Let’s go watch a movie and eat the rest of his stupidly good cookies.”

We towel off and migrate to the living room, claiming opposite ends of the oversized couch with a bowl of cookies between us. Jenna picks a romcom, and for two hours I don't think about my schedule or my planner or MIT. It's nice. For a while. Then the thought of tomorrow pulls me off the couch earlier than Jenna would like.

The house is dim when I walk in. Mom’s asleep on the sofa next to Hunter, both snoring softly under a blanket. The TV is still on and casts a bluish hint over their peaceful faces. I gently wake my mom so she can put Hunter to bed.

Back in my room, the planner is right where I left it, open and waiting. Finishing the last few pages takes twenty minutes, and when it's done, every class of the first semester has a plan. Days for calls with Braden are marked with heart stickers. Perfect. I set out my clothes and bag for tomorrow, then sit on the edge of my bed and look at my vision board.

The crumpled edge of the MIT logo is still there—this time I try bending it backward to flatten it, but it still looks off. The sound of the printer will bother everyone else, so reprinting it isn’t an option now. Oh well. My fingers trail over to the edge, where Braden's face beams from a photo booth strip we took at the boardwalk last summer. I kiss my fingertips and press them to the picture, then I turn off the light and go to bed. Senior year begins tomorrow, and I have a plan.

Chapter Two

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. Flip turn. Repeat.

I’ve always loved swimming. It’s not the burn in my muscles or the challenge of it, although those are great. It’s that I’m in my own little world. No sights other than the bottom of the pool, no sounds other than the muffled splashes of water. It feels like being cocooned in watery peace, free to let my thoughts wander with no chance of interruption.

Three AP classes, two honors classes, and one elective. Enough to keep my GPA at the top—assuming A’s in every class. I’ve never gotten less than an A before, so it’s reasonable not to worry too much.

After the next flip turn, I switch from freestyle to breaststroke, relaxing into the rhythmic gliding motion of the stroke. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a handful of other kids. Swim season isn’t until spring, but the school allowed a swim class to slip into the fall schedule this year.

Kim, our school’s swim coach, blows a whistle to signal the end of class. The students, a mix of swim team regulars and some kids looking for physical education credits, pull themselves out of the pool, puddles of water forming on the deck. I strip off my goggles and cap, grab my water bottle, and head towards the basement level locker rooms with the small crowd.

Why does Valley Prep have its pool in the basement? No one seems to know. It’s nice, though. There’s hardly anyone down here, especially when it’s not swim season. Most students don’t even seem to realize this level exists.

The hot steam of the shower soothes my muscles as I carefully wash my long hair. Removing the chlorine and applying gobs of conditioner are essential to combating the drying effect of pool water. It’s a constant struggle. Voices of the other students singing and laughing fill the steamy air, and I join in with a smile. They’ve picked another oldie that’s from my dad’s mix CD, and I know it by heart—Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations.

After storing everything in my locker, I stare at my reflection in the little mirror on the locker door, right beside my miniaturized list of life goals. My skin looks flushed and bright from the exercise; my hazel eyes alight with determination. The reflection shows a girl who’s ready to conquer the world.

Because I am.

But is there anyone on this earth who couldn’t benefit from a little pep talk? While most people might find it embarrassing to talk aloud to themselves, I don’t. For one thing, there’s almost no one around. Secondly, I’m excellent at pep talks. And lastly, I’m a firm believer in manifesting dreams into reality.

“You’ve got this, Avery. You’re fierce and independent. Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Next year you’ll be at MIT with Braden.”

Yep, I’ve got this. Invigorated, I swing the locker closed a little harder than necessary, making the sound echo through the tiled room. I sling my backpack over my shoulder, then nearly run into Coach Kim.

“Whoa. Sorry, Coach! I didn’t see you there.”

Kim smiles. “No worries. I heard you mention Braden. How is he? I’m going to miss having him on the swim team this year.”

An embarrassed flush almost creeps up my neck, but I force it down. There’s no need to feel awkward about being caught talking to myself—last week I read an article about how Michael Phelps gave himself pep talks. So I’m in good company.

Then it sinks in—Braden. This will be my first swim season without him, which honestly… is sad. But it’s one step in the plan to get me closer to being in college with him. As much as I would have wished for it to happen, I wasn’t able to skip a grade like Braden to keep pace with him. His mom encouraged him to take online classes during the summers, which allowed him to earn all his high school credits early. I’m a little behind him, but there’s a plan in place. It will be fine.

“He’s doing great! All moved into his dorm and getting settled into college life. We text and talk all the time.”

Well, not as much as I want, but talking all day every day isn’t exactly realistic. We are busy people, after all.

“I’m so glad to hear that. Anyway, I was going to ask you to help with something. I assume you’re still interested in being team captain this year?”

“Absolutely.” I stand confidently. It’s on the vision board, of course I want to do it!

“Great. The athletic director asked if we’d support athletes who get temporarily sidelined by injuries but still need to maintain their cardiovascular fitness. Swimming is often a good option during rehab, so a couple students will be joining this class. I thought it could be a great leadership opportunity for you to help take point on them. They’ll need a little extra support, and I’ll be busy with the regular swimmers.”

That doesn’t sound too time-intensive. Anything that adds a star to my student resume is an automatic ‘yes’ for me.

“Absolutely. Let me know what you need, Coach.”