Mary Kelly hands Matthew over to Auntie. “I told Mom we should call him Bernie after you since you knew he was going to be a boy.”

“Oh, I don’t much care for my name. Erlinda didn’t like hers either. Our mother wasn’t good at names.” Matthew looks like an ugly little old man, almost completely bald and red-faced. I can’t help but think how Chamorro babies are prettier, with their dark skin and jet black hair. When he burps, he spits up white goo and it dribbles down his chin.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Mary Kelly asks.

“Oh, yes,” we lie.

While Mary Kelly shows Auntie the pink nursery, Mrs. Johnson leans over and touches my hand. “How are you, Isabel?”

“I’m fine,” I say, and without thinking about it, I add, “I’m going to try out for the junior diving team.”

List to Prepare for Diving Team Tryouts

List to Prepare for Diving Team Tryouts

1. Call Auntie and ask her to take me to the university for diving tryouts

2. Friday remind her that I need to be there by nine

3. Ask Mrs. Cruz if she will watch Olivia and the store Saturday morning

4. Close my eyes

5. Imagine the water

6. See me doing a perfect dive

7. Repeat numbers 4, 5, and 6 again and again

Tryouts

Tryouts

Saturday morning, I’m a nervous wreck. My stomach is in knots, my bathing suit smells sour, and I have my first pimple. Auntie is late picking me up for the tryouts. She said she’d pick me up at eight-thirty sharp and it’s already five minutes after. I look out the window, bouncing on my heels. “Hurry, Auntie,” I mutter.

Tata comes into the living room, wearing a clean striped shirt, the one he used to wear to Mass. “Ready?”

I swallow. I hadn’t bothered to tell him about the tryouts. I figured he’d be fishing.

“Ready?” Tata asks again.

“Sure.” I grab my towel and follow him out the door.

Plunge

Plunge

The university pool is huge, bigger than I remembered, and I’m not the only one trying out. Five other people about my age are sitting on a bench, waiting. My stomach tumbles.

The highest diving board is twice as tall as the base pool’s. But the coach tells me it’s okay if I dive off the lower one. “I’m just observing your technique today.”

Technique? Did Ed tell him that I had a technique?

I consider choosing the highest diving board to impress the coach, but a picture of my body changing into a pretzel in midair flashes in my mind. I go over to the lower one, trying to forget about how this is an audition, one that suddenly seems so important to me.