Surviving High School

the bones down on the table before continuing her rant. “So take your little sidekick and get back to that sinkhole you call a table before someone sees me sitting with you.”
    “Sidekick?!” asked Kimi, her face flushed. “I’ll show you a ‘sidekick.’ ” She swung her foot through the space beneath the table and just missed Dominique’s knee.
    “Hey!” interrupted a male voice. “You’re that girl from the article, right?”
    A boy with slicked-back brown hair and a polo shirt with an upturned collar settled in beside Kimi. He reeked of Axe Bodyspray.
    “I’m Phil Ramirez,” he said, holding out a hand. Emily took it and gave it a soft squeeze.
    No way! she thought. Phil! The guy from Kimi’s spreadsheet! Not really my type, but to each her own.
    Kimi went silent. She stared at Phil and inhaled deeply. Emily almost laughed. Never once had she seen Kimi so tongue-tied.
    “Nice to meet you,” said Emily. “Uh, this is—”
    “Kimi Single,” said Kimi. “Er—I mean, Kimi Chen. But I am single. Not that it matters. Just letting you know. It’s my first time sitting at the center table, and I saw a cloud shaped like a—okay, um, I’m going to shut up now.”
    Phil smiled and looked her in the eye.
    “Nice to meet you, Kimi Single. It’s good to see a couple of new faces around here. And not bad-looking ones, either,” he said, half joking, half flirting.
    “Unfortunately, Emily and Kimi were just leaving. Isn’t that right?” asked Dominique, staring daggers at Emily.
    Emily looked back at the empty table in the corner of the cafeteria where she and Kimi usually sat. From here, it looked as dark and abandoned as a city street corner at night. Next to her, she noticed Kimi stealing quick glances at Phil and trying not to stare as he waved to a few friends across the cafeteria. If she and Kimi left now, would they ever have the guts to sit here again?
    “Actually,” said Emily, “I kind of agree with Kimi. I do like it here. We’ll go ahead and eat with you guys, as long as that’s cool with you, Phil.”
    “Sure thing,” he said, smiling. “It’s not every day I get to eat with a future Olympian. And her cute friend.”
    Dominique grimaced and whispered to Emily, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Swimbot. Enjoy sitting here while you can. Trust me—it won’t last long.” Then she leaned away, smiled, and told Phil, “I’m so glad Emily’s finally sitting with us. I keep saying we need more swimmers around here!”
    “I’ve actually been meaning to say hi,” said Phil. “I knew your sister.”
    “Oh, huh,” said Emily. “She, uh, never mentioned you.”
    Phil laughed. “Yeah, I bet she didn’t. I was sort of a geek back then. Plus I was in my reggae phase. Not that Sara was a music snob or anything.…”
    As Phil spoke, Emily felt her shoulders clenching involuntarily. She hated how anything to do with Sara—even a kind word from a relative stranger—seemed to trigger an immediate flood of stress and involuntary muscle spasms.
    “I only talked to her a handful of times,” Phil continued, “but she seemed like a genuinely nice person. Honestly, I wish I’d known her better. Only a few people really got to. Samantha and Cam—”
    “Knew who?” asked Cameron Clark as he sat between his sister and Emily. She had never seen him so up close. Like most swimmers, he smelled deeply of chlorine, and the roots of his blond hair looked wet, as if he’d recently gotten out of the pool. He seemed oddly out of place at the table; his layers of ropey muscles gave him the look of an older guy, a college student, maybe, a man among boys. Kimi couldn’t stop looking at him, and even Emily had to make a conscious effort not to stare.
    “Sara,” said Phil. “You guys hung out all the time, right?”
    “We trained together,” said Cameron. “But knowing someone? That’s entirely different.”
    “Sure,” said Phil. He seemed almost scared of Cameron. “That’s all I meant.”
    Cameron turned to Emily. “Sara was—exceptional. I hope you know that.” He stared at her intensely for a moment, as if he could read her every thought with his eyes. Then he looked away.
    All Emily could respond with was a muffled “Yeah.”
    Luckily for her, Phil seemed more socially aware than most. Reading the discomfort on Emily’s face, he quickly segued to a new topic. “Uh, so has anyone heard that new mashup of Lady Gaga and Mozart? Totally sick.” Maybe he was smarter