“I know you don’t have a flirt meter like the rest of us, but I promise you he was.”

I opened my mouth to tell her what my dad had said when she added, “You do not need to give in to him, though. I like him just fine, but I can see why you don’t.”

I shut my mouth. “You can?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty self-absorbed and childish. He makes me laugh, but I could never take him seriously.”

“Right . . . exactly.” It felt weird admitting that. It felt like admitting that I wouldn’t have liked my brother. And apparently Amelia wouldn’t have liked him either.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Absolutely nothing.

“Did you bring a lunch?” she asked, nodding toward my bag.

I stood. “Yes, but I need to go talk to Coach. I’m not going to the awards banquet.” I had just decided this, and although three people had told me I’d make the right decision, it didn’t feel right. My stomach was twisted tighter than it was prerace. I figured either decision would’ve produced that feeling, though, so I didn’t change my mind.

“It’s mandatory,” Amelia said.

“For people without dead brothers.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. If only we could all be so lucky.” I felt a twinge of guilt for joking about it, but sometimes it was all I could do to lighten up the whole subject. And besides, if my brother was as “fun” as my dad claimed, he would probably find the exchange amusing.

“I thought you wanted to go to the awards banquet. Cement your place as favorite with the coach.”

I picked up my bag. “I did, but I’ve been thinking, and maybe I am too singly focused.”

“Did Robert get in your head? I’ll kill him.”

“No. Well, sort of, but I started it. I do think a lot about swimming. My life kind of revolves around it.”

“Mine would too if I were as awesome as you.”

“Thanks, but even if I were that awesome, it’s no excuse to be so obsessed.”

“I think any excuse is a good one to be obsessed.”

I smiled, took a step away, then said, “You okay here . . . ?”

She rolled her eyes and nodded to a table behind her. “I’ll go sit with Katie. Good luck with the coach’s wrath.”

“Dead brother,” I called as I walked away.

I knocked on the glass outside Coach’s door when I arrived, even though I could see that it wasn’t Coach inside but DJ. I bit my lip. We still weren’t exactly back to pre-insult comfort around each other, but I knew he felt bad, so I was trying to get past it. DJ gestured me in.

“Hey, is Coach around?” I asked.

“He had a lunch meeting with a parent.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Can I help you with something?”