Carly fished a pair of goggles from the pool, shaking the water from it before hurling it into the trash. Tryouts had ended that day, and the pool was cleaned of freshmen and other garbage.
“Well, Gentry…” breathed Carly, “no sophomores made it to the Senior team. But you aren’t surprised at all, are you?”
Gentry didn’t reply, staring off onto the horizon. Hearing Carly talk was annoying to him.
“Zach got this close.” Carly put his fingers so close that they almost touched, then shook his head to hide a smirk. He turned to face the redhead, and asked, “Why were you late to judging today, and what happened to your face?”
“I was bored, so I felt like punching myself repeatedly.”
“Okay… whatever. You’re a weird kid, Gentry.”
“Anyway. It really is too bad no freshmen and sophomores made it to the team.” Carly rambled on.
“Don’t kid yourself.”
Carly ignored the remark, fishing a pair of goggles from the pool. The sun was setting in the distance, and Gentry pulled his swim parka over his shivering shoulders. He was shaking, but it wasn’t from the cold. When the remaining rays of sunlight were blocked up, Gentry lifted his head to discover Zach’s dark features and clear eyes in the distance. Carly looked up as well, a startled expression on his smug face. Before he could speak, Zach pushed a paper into his hands.
“I checked the rule book,” Zach drawled, “And there is a loophole. In case a person who is trying out feels cheated, he can gain admittance to the Senior swim team by beating the current leader.”
Carly read over the freshly printed paper, “Well.” He smirked, “That’s interesting. Do you think you can beat Gentry?”
Zach’s lips formed a thin line, and he refused to glance in Gentry’s direction. The redhead leaned back tiredly, “I’ll ask the coach to set it up for whenever you want.”
“Done.” Said Carly, making a note on a clipboard.