Abigail Apple joined the swim team on her 12th birthday. Her parents bought her goggles and a fashionable plastic swim cap. She even got a new swimming suit with bright and snazzy colors. On the first day of practice, the team gathered poolside on a rainy morning.
As Abigail put her big toe in the water, chills ran though her body. Possibly, practice should be postponed until the sun came out, she thought. Swim Captain Stacey Smoothers had a different idea altogether.
“Everybody in the water!” Captain Smoothers ordered like a drill sergeant. Abigail kept a positive attitude and jumped in lane two anyhow.
“What are those flags for?” Abigail asked, as her teeth chattered. Abby pointed to the orange and blue flags hanging over both ends of the pool.
“The Backstroke!” the Captain said. “To count your strokes when coming into the wall for a turn! Abigail, since you happened to ask, you will teach the team how to perfect The Backstroke flip turn.”
“Actually, I prefer The Butterfly, even Freestyle or The Breaststroke,” Abigail said. “I could really win ribbons and prizes if you put me in some of those events!”
Abigail jumped on one leg and pulled her right ear, unclogging stopped up water.
“How do you turn at the wall in The Backstroke? It seems tricky for a beginner!” she said. Ignoring Abigail’s question, the Captain blew her whistle and yelled: “500-meter Freestyle warm up! Go!”
Then she looked at Abby and said: “All but you! Swim 500 meters of The Backstroke or get out of the pool.” Abigail bit her blue lips, pushing off from the wall on her back.
Trying her hardest, Abigail accidentally smacked the person in front of her in the lane. Then she kicked the person in the head, swimming behind her.
“Ouch!” one teammate said. “Give me some space!”
“Watch it,” the other teammate said. “My goggles just filled with water.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Abigail said to her teammates. “Why can’t I do Freestyle, too?” Captain Smoothers loomed over Abigail, taking notes on the discussion.
“Up on deck, Abigail! One-hundred push-ups!” Captain Smoothers ordered.
“Right now? I’m trying to do The Backstroke,” Abigail said. “I didn’t even turn yet!” Abigail climbed from the pool and started her pushups with her nose on the slimy deck. “Fine, I will do The Backstroke, even if everyone else gets to swim Freestyle!” she said.
For weeks Abigail practiced nothing but The Backstroke: left, right, left, right. While swimming on her back, she watched for the flags into the wall and counted her strokes.
“One, two, three, four, five,” she said to herself, counting her strokes into the wall. Then she would flip on her stomach and try to push off the wall. Every time she flipped, she hit her head on the cement pool, and her toes barely touched the wall. She stalled for seconds, gaining momentum, finally pushing off streamline from the wall.
What Captain Smoothers didn’t know was that Abigail had been practicing The Butterfly in secret. In the afternoons, when no one was watching, Abigail disciplined herself to fly through the pool. The Butterfly was supposed to be the hardest stroke of all, but not for Abigail.
For Abigail, The Butterfly was effortless, almost like she grew wings when swimming. Abigail knew if she excelled in The Butterfly, Captain Smoothers would be fired for embarrassing her. The first swim meet was at the end of the month, and by then, Abigail would be ready.
On the morning of the first swim meet, Abigail stood before Captain Smoothers and her clipboard. Captain Smoothers called to the team their events and lane assignments.
“The Backstroke, 12-and-under, Abigail Apple, Lane 4,” Captain Smoothers yelled.
Abby swallowed hard with a lump in her throat, not wanting to come in last place. Patiently, Abigail hoped she would also be put in The Butterfly race. When Captain Smoothers got to The Butterfly, 12-and-under event, Abigail looked at her feet.
“Abigail Apple, Lane 6,” Captain Smoothers said, with a smirk, as she checked off her list. “If you come in last place, Abigail, I don’t care. I need someone to fill the lane,” the coach said. In her heart, Abigail had already won the first-place blue ribbon and plaque in The Butterfly.
When it came time to swim The Backstroke, Abigail did the best she could under pressure. She sprang from her starting block with a splash and counted her strokes from the flags to the wall. Of course, she hit her head on the wall during the flip turn but bounced back and continued the race. With no surprise to Abigail, she sank to last place in The Backstroke event.
Captain Smoothers eyed her with a scary grin and hugged the first-place winner on the other team.
Although Captain Smoothers probably expected Abigail to quit, Abigail geared up for The Butterfly. When her name was called to stand on the starting blocks, she stepped up like an Olympian. She nodded to the judges and bent down on the blocks with determination. When the gun sounded for the race, Abigail flew into the pool and underneath the water.
As she came out of the water, she gained one body-length after another in front of her competitor. By the time she reached the wall and turned, she was definitely in first place. Her two feet kicked together like an actual dolphin in the ocean.
As she neared the end of the race, she held her breath and stroked harder than anyone expected. When she touched first, and the clock stopped, she stood up and looked for her time. Gasping for breath, she noticed that the swimmers in the other lanes had just reached the wall.
The neon sign blinked “24.00 seconds – a new record in Women’s 50 Meter Butterfly.” Abigail looked right at Captain Smoothers who threw her clipboard into the pool. Like a real winner, Abigail hung on the blue lane line and clapped for her teammates. Next time, she would win The Freestyle and The Breaststroke, too, until she mastered The Backstroke.
Copyright 2015 Jennifer Waters
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