The Swim
Charlotte Weinstein
I was walking down the street. There were kids talking around me, double-decker buses honking, clunky shoes, heavy backpacks, and anxiety. Our class was heading to the swim center, the same one that we had been swimming at for the past couple of weeks, but I hated--sorry--strongly disliked swimming. We changed into bathing suits and put swim caps on with baby powder, just to hop into a freezing pool with the occasional band-aid floating by. Unlike other kids in my class, I knew how to swim. After a couple of years of swimming classes in New York, I was an okay swimmer, and I knew I wasn’t going to drown.
It was raining on our walk, and we were all wearing our rain jackets; I strongly disliked wearing my rain jacket. Luckily, when you live in London, all of the swim centers are indoors because of the rain. Once we got inside, my swim instructor, Hugh, pulled me aside. He was around 50 years old with a really hoarse voice and a thick British accent. His voice scared me the most. He said, “Charlotte, today you will be swimming with the upper level, so hurry up and get changed so that you can meet the new swimming teacher.” I gulped; I was scared because I had never swam with the upper level before. Worst of all, I would be the only girl! I was friends with the boys, but I had a stronger connection with my friends that were girls. We played kick the can at snack while all of the girls played with Shopkins.
I walked up to the upper level group in my bathing suit. Ugh my swim cap is too tight! I should go ask Ms. Samantha to help me fix it. I looked up towards the stands. The sun was shining through the glass roof, and I squinted so that I could see. Where is she? No no no, this can't be happening. I don't want to swim in the upper level group, I want to go back to the little kid pool. The swim instructor called me over, and I didn’t say a word. Maybe if I didn’t talk, I wouldn't have to swim. I could only hope. With my goggles securely suctioned to my face, I got to the back of the line behind everyone, and then suddenly it was my turn.
Surprisingly, the swim lesson flew by, and so did the next and the next. A couple of weeks and a lot of swimming classes later, our teacher announced that the swimming competition would be coming up in a couple of weeks. I knew that I had to prove that I was good enough to beat all of the boys. The boys were faster and taller than me, so how was I supposed to beat them? It was going to be a challenging feat, but the competitive spirit was in my genes. I practiced and practiced. Swimming lessons consisted of all the strokes we were going to swim on the day of the competition. We swam freestyle, backstroke, and breaststroke. I wasn’t very good at breaststroke, but I tried. All I thought about was, “Chicken, airplane, soldier,” one of the ways we were taught how to do breaststroke. Every time we headed to the swim center, it was the same amount of dread topped off with rain and gloom, but I wanted to win.
The morning of the swimming competition, I was filled to the brim with anxiety. I had to go through an entire day of school before I could even think of putting on that too-tight swim cap or goggles that were always filling with water. I put on my white-and-blue striped dress, white socks, navy blue shoes, and giant backpack stuffed with all of my swim gear and homework. I headed out the door with my mom just to hop on the number 22 bus and head to school, five hours until the swim meet.
I went through my different classes: French, Math, and English flew by. Three hours left to the meet. I ate a snack, but afterwards, it felt like all the food had gone into a black hole. I needed to go to the bathroom, but class was starting. I walked down our small corridor into the classroom and sat down at my desk. We had Religious Education and Handwriting. Two hours left until the swim meet. I ate lunch with my friends, and everyone was talking about the swim meet. I didn’t want to talk about it or eat; I felt sick to my stomach. What was everyone going to think of me? What if I was going to be the last person swimming? Who am I going to be racing against? Did I forget my bathing suit? I was spiraling.
“Charlotte? Charlotte!?” my friend Elizabeth said as she snapped me out of my daydream.
“Oh yeah, sorry!” I shook my head. I just had to get through one more class and a walk, then it would be swim meet time, and after all of that torture, I would get ice cream! Always look on the bright side of life. My last class was reading, but I didn’t read. I looked at my book, but didn't take in any of the information.
“Alright class, let's grab our bags and line up at the door! It’s time,” Mrs. Samantha said.
We got up and walked to the door. 30 minutes remained until I would be in the water swimming with everyone watching. On the walk over, there were kids talking around me, taxi drivers honking their horns, me, and my anxiety: not a new feeling. There were tons of people; students, parents, and teachers were all there. Our class got changed and walked out to sit against the wall on the side of the pool, waiting for the Year 4, 5, and 6ers to come out. The meet went from youngest to oldest. As Year 3’s (7 year olds) we would be fourth. A hush went over the crowd. Our PE teacher and Headmistress Miss Lucy walked together to the thick middle section of the pool and talked. I am not sure how long they talked, but it felt like forever, and I needed to go to the bathroom. Why is this important again? Oh yeah, ice cream. The youngest students swam in the kiddie pool. I couldn’t see them, so I boarded a plane into the world of Charlotte.
“Charlotte, we are up!” my friend Tom whispered.
Oh no, I never actually pictured this moment. I was up third in my heat. At school, we were divided up into teams, Sydney Carlile,Mercury. I was going up against Tom from Carlile and Mateo from Mercury. We were lined up in three rows, and I was last. It would be around 15 minutes before I could even go.
Finally, my heat was called. I walked over to the pool and slid in. The water was cold, so my body was immediately covered in goosebumps. I looked to the other side of the pool. It looked like it was going to take me forever to reach the other side. My hands gripped the ridge of the pool and my feet pressed against the wall. I could feel all of the textures.
“Swimmers, take your starts, in 3, 2, 1, GO!” my PE teacher shouted in that terrifying raspy voice. I pushed off the wall as more cold water went down my bathing suit. I blinked. What is that? Oh no, water! My goggles must not have been secure enough. I was swimming, and all that was going through my head was, “Chicken, airplane, soldier.” I was swimming through thick Jello. It felt like I was going nowhere. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t hear anything, but I imagined that everyone in the school was watching me. It got harder and harder to see as more water filled my goggles. Just keep swimming, don’t stop, you must win. I tried to open my eyes in the water to see how close I was. Everything was so blurry all I saw was a shadow cast on the pool. It was someone cheering. They started waving their hands harder. Just keep swimming. Is it for me? Am I winning? There is no way. Both of my competitors are much larger than me. I tried to open my eyes again. This time I saw a wall. A wall? Oh no! My hand grazed the wall as I popped up from under the water. My heart was pounding.
“Go, Charlotte!” I heard my friend Kathleen yell. I didn’t see anyone else out of the pool, but then I looked up and saw Mateo standing next to the sports captains, smiling. He must have won. I climbed out of the pool and faked a smile. I was sad, but I didn’t show it. I didn’t want to be known as a sore loser. I stood rubbing my arms together because the goosebumps were still there, and I was freezing. We watched the next couple of years and then headed into the changing room. After I got dressed, I headed up to see my nanny, Rocio. She greeted me with a hug. Then we waited and watched another speech. It was time for the awards ceremony. I knew I hadn't won an award anyway since I didn’t win, so my friends and I played with Shopkins.
“And the winner for most improved in upper school this year is… Charlotte!” My PE teacher announced. I looked around and people were staring right at me. Why? The PE teacher walked up to me and handed me a medal and a ribbon. YAY, I won something! My friends hugged me, and we immediately started talking about what ice cream store we were going to go to.
My friends and I all walked out of the swim center, talking about what type of ice cream we were going to get. I wanted mango, it was my go-to flavor. We crossed the street, busses, cars, and taxis honking, my friends talking about what Shopkins pack they were getting next, my swim bag, nanny, happiness, and me. Turns out swim class wasn’t that bad at all, I just needed some motivation.
