The Easy Part of Impossible - Sarah Tomp Page 0,61
grateful for her shortened class schedule. It would involve less deliberate avoidance time. The weirdest thing was how everyone seemed to be talking about what had happened.
She kept getting looks of sympathy. Or maybe some of those looks were more satisfaction. Delight. She hadn’t known anyone would even care. She never expected to be the focus of this kind of conversation. Whether they had it right was more than she could figure out. She hadn’t tracked Maggie down to translate.
Ria was used to being watched at meets. Judged. Envied and scorned in equal measure. She’d practiced the high-chin, shoulder-back, not-gonna-look-you-in-the-eye saunter. She knew how to look like she was calm, cool, and collected, no matter what was going on inside her mind. Most of her school days were filled with pretending anyway. It had always been a matter of going through the motions.
One of her special-ed teachers in middle school had a poster on her wall. A cartoon student sat in a desk, looking eager. Along his spine was the word SLANT. Otherwise known as the secret for success: Sit up. Lean forward. Act interested. Nod your head. Take notes. There was no need to “fake it till you make it.” That may never happen. Just fake it.
Instead of taking the trail that evening, Ria ran through the neighborhood, following the rough asphalt and broken sidewalks, past the houses that all looked the same, or at least related. Her legs felt strong, her body in line with itself. All her muscles and tendons and bones and organs united, keeping her going. Even though she was straining, pushing, her breath rough and ragged, the sweat streaming along her skin, she wished she could go faster, still faster.
In the past, she never would have run along the streets to Maggie’s house. Benny hated his divers exercising in public. He only wanted them getting attention for certain things—his right things. Winning first place, qualifying for bigger meets, being a standout diver in some way. He took pride in their hard work, but only in the gym or at the pool, not for everyone else to see. Maybe he wanted it to seem like their talent was some kind of magical experience. They needed to be the best, but no one should know how they got there.
She knocked on the front door, then paced back and forth along the walkway, cooling down and catching her breath. Her face felt hot and swollen, but her arms and legs felt almost weightless. She’d crossed an endorphin line.
“Ria?” said Maggie, peeking through the screen door. “What are you doing here?”
When she’d been in motion, all the words she’d been keeping inside felt loose and ready to be released, but now, standing still, she wasn’t sure where to start.
“Do you still have swings?”
“I’ll meet you out back.”
In the scruffy backyard, Ria headed straight to the crooked metal swing set. She stood on the black rubber seat with one foot, then squished her other foot in too. She held the rusty chains and pushed herself forward, then back, building momentum. The trick was to keep her body straight and tight. It was a good alternative exercise—she was surprised Benny hadn’t thought of it. If he had, he would have brought swings into the gym.
Maggie took the swing next to her, sitting and swaying.
Still on her feet, Ria swung high enough that the drop made her queasy. Not in a bad way, simply in a reminder-of-gravity kind of way. She knew it wasn’t physically feasible to do an actual 360 around the top bar, but she pushed anyway, trying to defy all the invisible forces keeping her within a safe border.
“School was awful. I don’t know why everyone cares that Sean and I broke up.”
“He was really upset.” Maggie undid her bun, let her hair fall around her shoulders. She checked the ends, played with the frizzy parts.
“I know.” Ria didn’t expand. She’d never liked talking about her fails.
“He tried to do something nice for you and you . . . well, I guess it doesn’t matter since you’re leaving anyway.”
“I didn’t tell you about the NDT because . . .”
“Because you thought I’d be jealous. You didn’t trust me to be happy for you.”
Ria caught the ground with her foot, stopping her swing. “I might not go.”
“Right. You might not take the exact opportunity you’ve always wanted. As if you’d actually say ‘Gee, no thanks, I’d rather not follow my hopes and dreams.’”