Elegy - Chapter 2

“Wait up!” Sydney huffed, as she scrambled to keep up with me, breathing in short, ragged bursts, her cheeks flushed from exertion.

“What happened to all those swimming muscles, huh?” I grinned, teasing her as I slowed my pace up the steep incline.

“Ugh, hiking and swimming use totally different muscles, genius,” she said, stopping next to me to catch her breath. Bent over, hands on her knees, she looked up at me and asked, “How are you not exhausted?”

I laughed and dropped into a horse stance, legs shoulder-width apart, knees at a forty-five-degree angle as if I was sitting up straight on an invisible chair.

“Ever held one of these bad boys for twenty minutes?” I asked, my stance rock solid. “This is Chef’s punishment when he thinks I’m slacking off. Makes lunges and squats feel like a breeze. Also, wasn’t this your idea?”

“I just thought it’d be nice to be out in nature, y’know?” she said defensively. “There are easier trails, for the record.”

“True, but they wouldn’t have this view,” I replied, sitting on a large rock and pulling her down next to me.

We gazed through a gap in the trees at the layer of clouds shrouding the rolling mountains. Though the view would be more breathtaking in the summer, when the trees were lush with leaves, the dramatic vista was still mesmerizing. A dusting of snow and delicate icicles clung to the bare skeletal branches, creating the illusion of a sparkling glow. The early morning sun had yet to burn off the cloudy mist that gave the Smoky Mountains their name, making the entire thing seem almost cinematic.

We sat there in almost eerie silence, punctuated occasionally by the call of some winter bird or the rustling of branches caught in a gust of wind, just taking in the moment.

“Okay, this is pretty damn nice,” Sydney admitted, snuggling up close to me and resting her head on my shoulder.

She sighed as I wrapped my arm around her waist. It felt good to escape the chaos of life for a while, leaving behind rehearsals, gigs, school, and whatever bullshit anyone else wanted to throw at me. For this moment, at least, there was just Sydney and me.

“So, what are your plans for Spring Break?” I asked, breaking the silence.

Sydney shrugged. “Dunno. We were thinking about Disney World, but one of Dad’s deputies needs surgery, so he can’t take time off. Guess I’ll be stuck at home.”

“That’s funny because we’re actually going to Florida. We’re playing at this huge music festival in Miami,” I said, a grin spreading across my face. “Since you’ve got nothing going on, you should tag along!”

She shook her head. “You know my dad would never let me travel with you on my own, especially to a festival where there will be partying and underage drinking. He doesn’t even approve of us dating.”

“It won’t be just on our own. You could room with Lyla, and Warren’s coming too, so there’ll be at least one adult around,” I countered, hoping to sway her.

She sighed. “I know, but your tour manager isn’t going to be Dad’s idea of a quality chaperone.”

“What if your mom came along? She had a blast in Nashville, and she could make sure I’m not, y’know, defiling you or anything,” I suggested, only half-joking.

Sydney rolled her eyes. “See, I’m on board with the defiling part, but no. She’s picking up extra shifts at work since her coworkers will be on vacation, and she hatesbailing on commitments.”

“Damn,” I muttered, disappointed.

It’s fine. You’ll have other tour shows, and I’ll find a time to go when Mom can join us,” she reassured me. “Besides, I prefer your smaller gigs. I can actually hear the music and flirt with you from the front row. I’ll come to most of your Blue Ridge shows.”

“But we won’t see each other over Spring Break,” I complained, trying not to sound too whiny.

“We’ll survive,” she said, standing and pulling me up with her. “Now let’s head back down this damn mountain. Maybe we can find a secluded spot for some ‘defiling’ before your practice.”

I shook my head, chuckling. Sydney always kept me on my toes, but that was part of her appeal. Just when I thought I had her figured out, she’d zig instead of zag.

When I got home, after dropping Sydney off, I almost tripped over Hanna’s bag which was sitting just inside the front door.

“Leaving?” I asked her as she came down the stairs.

“Yeah,” she said. “I want to get back into the groove of things before classes start on Monday. Plus, Tommy’s been texting, wanting to see me.”

We all hated Tommy. The one time he’d come for a visit, he’d treated her like a servant and made a pass at Kat. For whatever reason though, Hanna was blind to what a loser he was, and got angry when we brought it up.

“Thanks for taking me with you to New York,” she said, wrapping me up in a big hug. “It was amazing.”

“We wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for you,” I said, hugging her back. “Nothing would have happened if you hadn’t gotten me that job at the Blue Ridge.”

“Bullshit. We both know you would have made it no matter what.”

“I guess, I just …”

I was interrupted by the door flying open and Kat almost barreling into the two of us. She must have just finished with swim practice because her hair was still wet, curling around her shoulders the way it does when she gets out of the pool.

“Oh my God, you guys will never guess what happened,” she said, grabbing both of our hands and jumping up and down.

Hanna and I exchanged an amused glance. Kat was usually fairly quiet and reserved, but she could be almost childlike when she got excited.

“What happened?” Hanna asked.

“I have a shot at the national team. I didn’t know if I could make it, since it’s the adult team, but trails are in July and my birthday is in June, so I’ll be just under the wire.”

“That’s great,” I said, probably less enthusiastically than she wanted, since she stopped bouncing and gave me an exasperated look.

“Don’t you know what this means? If I make the national team I’ll be able to go to the twenty-four Olympics next year.”

“Really?” Hanna asked.

“Yeah, really. I mean, it’s going to be tough, because there are only six slots for each event, but I’ll get a shot. The juniors were great, but we didn’t really get to compete for anything big. The Olympics. Can you believe it?” she said, starting to bounce again.

“That’s so cool,” I said.

“I know. It’s going to take a lot of work, though. First, I have to qualify for trials, so I’m going to have to find a bunch of ranked events that meet USA Swimming and United States Aquatic Sports standards. That probably means a lot of travel, since only national, international, and sponsored events count toward the point totals to qualify for trials. It also means I’m not going to have time to compete for the school team this year, which sucks. I haven’t told coach yet, and he’s going to be crushed.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it when one of his students wins a gold medal,” Hanna said.

“Probably, although there’s a lot of stuff I have to win between here and there.”

“Just getting on the team would be amazing,” I said.

Kat had a way of setting huge expectations for herself and getting crushed when they didn’t work out. Considering this was the thing she’d wanted since she was a little girl, I didn’t want her to start putting a ton of pressure on herself. She was still really young and this wasn’t going to be her last chance at it, not that she’d see that if she didn’t make the team this time. She was doing so well at therapy I didn’t want her to set herself up for a major backslide.

“No kidding,” she said.

“So, I guess you won’t be able to go to Florida with us over Spring Break?” I asked.

“Actually, I can. We went over the schedule of events today, and there’s a big competition in Florida at the end of March, two weeks before Spring Break, but nothing the week of Spring Break. It means two separate trips to Florida, but I’ll be able to go with you guys.”

“What about school?” Hanna asked. “Are they going to let you go to all of those competitions and miss classes?”

“I have to talk to your mom and have her talk to the principal, but probably. I’m doing well in all of my classes, so I won’t be that far behind. I just have to study while I’m traveling and be able to send in my assignments. The only hard part will be convincing them to work out different times for me to take tests and quizzes.”

“They’ll figure it out,” I said. “Your teachers all love you.”

She just gave a half-shrug and said, “I guess.”

“What about the Pan American games?” Hanna asked. “You killed it at that and medaled last year. That has to be an internationally ranked meet. Doesn’t that count for qualifying?”

“Yes, but I didn’t meet the qualified selection time in two of the events I want to compete in. To compete at the national team trials, it’s all about hitting the QST for each event, so just winning a meet isn’t enough to get me in. Also, placement can be a big deal, so the better my times in each event, the better my placement will be, so I need to put up as many times in ranked events as possible to try and get a good spot.”

“Does which lane you swim in really matter that much?” Hanna asked.

Apparently, that was a dumb question, because Kat rolled her eyes and said, “It isn’t about what lane you swim in. The prelims and semi-finals are broken into heats, since there are more swimmers than lanes for everyone to go at once. The heats are selected by the fastest to the slowest for each race, I guess to give the slightly slower people who are still best in their group a chance at the semi-finals or something, I don’t know. If I have low QSTs, I might end up in one of the slower heats. A lot of swimming has to do with who you’re swimming against, since to get the really good times you need someone to really push you.”

“But, if they only take the top swimmers from the prelim and the semi-final heats, wouldn’t it be better to be in the slower group to have a better chance of getting to the finals, instead of the fastest group?” I asked.

“No. Even the slow groups aren’t that slow. Everyone has to meet the QST set by USA Swimming, so they’re still fast. If I’m not on top of my game, I could get surged near the end and bumped out of a slot for the semis or finals. No. The best bet is to be in the fastest group, so I really need to push it. That also ensures I hit the Olympic QST, which I also need. I could win a final, but if my time is below the Olympic QST, I won’t get to swim.”

“Ohh,” I said.

I never realized how complicated swimming was, or that there was a strategy involved beyond just ‘go as fast as you can.’

“But you’re going to team trials anyway, since you already have the qualifying time or whatever in a couple of events, right?” Hanna asked.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be going to Indianapolis in July. The only thing left to see is how many events I’ll get to compete in. You guys can come with me in July, right?”

“I can,” Hanna said.

“Warren hasn’t started booking us for the summer yet. I’ll call him and make sure he keeps those dates open. Marco will probably bitch, but I’ll be there.”

“Great,” she said, squishing the three of us together in a giant hug. “I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” I said, happy to see her so giddy.

***

Monday afternoon I was back at baseball practice. Even though it wasn’t that late the sun was already casting long shadows across the field. In the winter, evening came earlier for most people, but living in Appalachia it happened even sooner, the sun dipping below the mountains, giving us a twilight that lasted three or four hours.

I was dragging myself back to the dugout when Coach Dean hollered, “Nelson. Run back to the field house, empty one of the equipment bags and bring it here.”

He was holding one of the canvas bags, and I could see a few bats sticking out of the bottom, which wasn’t supposed to happen and explained his request. I’d never tell Sydney, but my legs were still a little sore from the weekend hike and now practically screamed after the long practice which I’d spent mostly shagging balls in the outfield. I knew Coach Dean wasn’t going to listen to any complaints about being tired or needing to send someone else, so I gave a wave and started jogging back to the athletics storage room attached to one side of the school with two big, metal doors that lead directly out to the fields.

Unfortunately, those metal doors were locked, which meant I had to take the long way around the side of the school and go in through the door that led into the athletics hallway. Once around the building, where Coach couldn’t see me, I stopped jogging. I knew he liked me, so it wasn’t likely he’d chew me out too bad if I took a little extra time.

The school was already empty and my footsteps echoed off the dimly lit hallway walls. I wouldn’t have thought it a year and a half ago when I first started school here, but this part of the school had started to feel a little like home. It had this smell of cleaning supplies and sweaty gym clothes which was both unpleasant but also kind of comforting, in its own way.

I’d just turned the corner into the weight room, which had a door that led into the supply closet, when I heard two voices. Being nosy, I peeked back around the corner to see who it was, since most kids would have gone home already. Two seniors from the football team, Bryce Young and Austin Hooper, had just stopped at a set of lockers, about fifteen feet down the hallway, acting all kinds of weird. Even though no one was around, they huddled together facing the locker, their voices, which had been loud enough to hear a moment ago, dropping to whispers.

I couldn’t see what they were doing, but it seemed like Bryce was handing Austin something small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. I was so focused on the two of them, trying to see what they were doing, I didn’t even notice Mr. Packer coming down the hall towards them until he spoke.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Packer demanded, his gaze fixed on the two boys.

They must not have noticed him either, because both practically jumped in the air at the sound of his voice, shoving their hands inside their pockets and backpacks as they turned to face him.

“Nothing,” Austin replied, trying to act nonchalant.

Mr. Packer narrowed his eyes, not buying it. “Empty your pockets. Now.”

The boys hesitated but after a moment complied, Bryce revealing a small bag of what looked like weed as he pulled his pocket inside out. Packer snatched it from Bryce’s hand, his face contorted in anger.

“Hand me the bag,” he said, pointing at Austin’s backpack.

Not having much of a choice, Austin handed it over, grimacing as Mr. Packer pulled out several more of the little bags.

“I expected better from you two. This is unacceptable!” He spat the words like venom, although I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t threaten them with expulsion or suspension.

Had it been me, I would have been instantly expelled and he’d have probably called the cops to boot.

Instead, he told them, “Get out of here, and if I catch you doing this again you’ll both be off the team. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they mumbled, Austin grabbing the backpack Mr. Packer offered back and hurrying towards the front part of the school.

Mr. Packer stood there for a second, looking at the little bags in his hand, before looking up and glancing around the hallway, causing me to jump back out of site. I didn’t want to go back into the weight room, since the doors might make noise and give me away. I might not have been involved, but I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Packer to somehow accuse me of being involved anyway, so instead I just leaned against the cold brick wall and held my breath until I heard his footsteps receding away from me. When I thought he was far enough away, I peeked back around just in time to see him disappear around a corner, into the cafeteria.

As interesting as that whole situation was, none of that had anything to do with me. I was about to go back to retrieving the equipment bag I’d been sent for when I noticed something sitting right at the edge of the lockers where Bryce and Austin had been standing. I almost ignored it, but curiosity got the better of me. Listening hard, just in case anyone was coming back, I darted out from my cover to where the thing was sitting and knelt down.

I hadn’t gotten a good look at what they’d been passing each other, but this was definitely part of it. The bag was empty now, but there were still some little brown pieces of stem inside and, when I lifted it up to my nose, it had that pungent stink I’d smelled at a lot of bars and clubs over the years.

The thing that really caught my eye was this little sticker on it which was some kind of hand-drawn symbol, like a leaf that was twisted, as if viewed through bubbled glass, or while high on something. Although I’d been around a lot of drugs all my life, what with being backstage around musicians and rock bands, I’d never done any myself, so didn’t know if guys selling weed actually branded their stuff or not, but it was interesting.

The last thing I was going to do, however, was get caught holding something like this, just in case someone thought it was mine. Dropping it back where I found it, I headed into the weight room.

It had been a weird little moment, that was for sure.