Page 85 of The Last Five Yards

Rowan swallows. Her throat feels tight.

“I know,” she says.

And she wants to believe it.

Reese twists in her seat just enough to catch Rowan’s eye. “Hey. You love this. That is the important part.”

Rowan pretends she is looking at something out the window, so they cannot see the small smile that tries to form.

She sits up a little straighter.

She is still nervous.

But she is also ready.

Or almost ready.

Close enough.

The pool is coming into view.

And everything inside her shifts.

The second Rowan walks through the natatorium doors, the air hits her in a way that nearly knocks her over.

Warm. Chlorinated. Loud.

The kind of loud that comes from sneakers squeaking on tile and timers clicking and coaches shouting across lanes. The kind of warm that always feels a little too thick but also a little like home.

Her heart jumps. Her legs feel buzzy. This is nothing like the age-group meets she grew up on. This place feels bigger. Older. More serious. The blocks look taller. The swimmers look faster. The ceiling feels miles away.

Maren steps beside her, scanning the deck like she owns the place, which she practically does. Reese is already peeling off toward the stands, blowing Rowan a kiss on the way like she is not being embarrassing at all.

Rowan adjusts her bag on her shoulder and follows her teammates toward the section marked with their school banner. Her warm-up jacket suddenly feels too warm, but she keeps it on.

She tries to look calm. She tries to breathe the way Maren taught her. She tries not to stare.

Which is impossible, because everything is new.

Girls stretch along the far wall, legs extended in perfect lines. A group of seniors laughs near lane eight, their hair in tight braids that looked like they took an hour. Someone cannonballs into the diving well. A coach blows a whistle. A swimmer shakes water out of her ears like a dog.

Rowan drinks all of it in at once.

Her teammate Jess bumps her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Rowan says. “Totally fine.”

Jess gives her a look that says she does not believe her but does not push.

They reach their team’s bench area. Rowan drops her bag and sinks onto the edge. She takes everything in again from a seated angle, which somehow makes the pool look even bigger.

Across the way, another team is warming up. Rowan’s eyes catch on someone near lane three. A girl she has never seen before. Tall. Lean. Her cap is half-on as she adjusts her goggles. She moves like she has been doing this her whole life. Smooth. Confident. Not showing nerves at all.

Rowan looks away quickly, pretending she is tying her shoes.

Jess notices anyway. “Checking out the competition?”

“Just looking,” Rowan mutters.