Surviving High School

her. A month ago, the entire team had cheered against her as Emily lost a race to Dominique. Now the tables were turned.
    Emily looked over to see Dominique listening to the crowd’s chant and shaking with anger. Good. Now it was her turn to be distracted.
    Emily focused back on the race just in time. The starting bell chimed, and she leaped forward into the water. Short freestyle races like this were all about power—going full-out for a single minute and knowing just how far you could push your body before it broke down.
    Emily thrashed through the water, touched the far wall, and kick-flipped to head back in the opposite direction. The crowd continued to cheer, and the sound of her own name filled Emily’s ears, urging her forward. She flew down the lane and kicked off the wall again. The crowd’s chanting infused her with a new kind of energy, one she hadn’t felt before, as if each voice were a hand pushing her forward.
    As she reached the final lap of the race, the one where her muscles usually burned with exhaustion, she felt a surge ofadrenaline. She wouldn’t lose this time. Not in front of people who were cheering her name. Not in front of Ben.
    She kicked her legs and pulled at the water with her arms. And then suddenly, she reached forward and felt the grain of the pool wall against her fingertips. A cheer rose through the gym, and the announcer called out, “With a time of one minute, four-point-three seconds, Kessler is the winner!”
    The freestyle win was the first of many. Not only did Emily beat Dominique in breaststroke and butterfly like usual, she even beat her in backstroke. Emily won every heat of every race. She dominated, and with each win, the crowd chanted her name even louder.
    When the event was finally over, the crowd surrounded Emily, congratulating her and requesting her presence at post-meet meals. In the distance, she saw Dominique, her shoulders pulled back tight, refusing to look defeated as she escaped the crowd and retreated into the locker room. Emily almost felt bad for her. Almost.
    The crowd parted as Ben approached.
    “Em!” he said. “You were unbelievable!”
    He reached in and tried to give her a hug, but she pulled away and glanced meaningfully over at her dad, who was watching everything.
    “Not right now,” she said, and Ben frowned. “Sorry,” she added, remembering she’d never told him about her dad’s no-dating policy. “I’ll explain later.”
    “Yeah, Em, sure,” he said. “I’m just gonna, you know, takeoff, then. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” He backed away. She wished she could explain it all—that the reason she wasn’t throwing her arms around him was because she liked him so much and wanted to keep seeing him, but there was just no way, not with all of these people around.
    He took another step back, and the crowd closed around Emily, sealing her away from him.
    On the drive home, Emily’s dad was quieter than usual. Normally, he’d spend this time picking apart her performances—her millisecond-late start on the breaststroke or her overly conservative pace on the 200-meter butterfly. Today, though, he said nothing. Could it really be that he had nothing to criticize? Finally, he broke the silence.
    “Seems like you had quite a few fans out there,” he said.
    Panic gripped Emily. Did he know she’d sneaked out to go to the party? Did he know about Ben?
    “The, uh, article really won some people over,” she said.
    He nodded, seemingly accepting her explanation.
    “You must be feeling pretty proud of yourself for winning like that,” he said. “But I wonder if you happened to notice your race times?”
    Though Emily had beaten Dominique in each race and felt good while she was swimming, her times had indeed been unexceptional. If anything, she was a few tenths of a second off her usual pace in most of the races.
    “You won because Dominique had an off day,” her dad continued. “Not because of anything you did.”
    “I won. She lost,” said Emily. “If you need to yell at someone, yell at her.”
    “I’m not yelling,” he said. “I’m trying to warn you. This was just an exhibition swim. It didn’t count for anything. For all you know, she didn’t swim her hardest. Two weeks from now, though, are Quals for Junior Nationals. Those are the races that do count. Those are the races you want to win.”
    “Why can’t you just let me have this?” she asked. “Why can’t you just let me feel good about