Chapter 4: The Rematch

"You won the state final in lane five," I said. "And he never forgave you."

"He never forgave the whole pool," Luka said. "I just happened to be in it."

Down in lane four, Dane touched the wall, ripped off his goggles and looked straight up at me.

He had been watching my stand the whole length of the pool.

He hauled himself out and walked along the deck, dripping.

"Hanlon," he said.

"Abercrombie."

"Race me."

The whole team stopped what they were doing.

Luka did not move from the wall.

"It's ten fifteen on a weeknight."

"Two hundred freestyle. Right now. Lanes four and five."

"Why?"

"Because you got lucky," Dane said. "And I want everyone here to see it was luck."

The team crowded to the edge of the deck.

Someone started filming.

Luka looked at me.

It was a short look, but it asked something.

I put a hand on my whistle.

"Pool rules," I said. "A race needs a guard on the stand and a starter. I'm on the stand, and I'll call it."

Dane's mouth twisted.

"Fine. You call it."

"You want me to?" Luka asked me, low.

"Yes."

He pulled off his gray shirt and dropped it on a bench.

He was broad across the back, with a long, flat scar on one shoulder.

Dane went to the block in lane four.

Luka went to the block in lane five, right under my stand.

The room went quiet.

"Swimmers, take your marks," I said.

They bent.

I watched Dane's hands curl over the edge of the block.

Last time, I had stood in this exact pool at his birthday party in our third year.

He had told me he never lost a race that mattered.

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