A tinny voice on the loudspeaker tells us to take our mark. As one, all six of us swimmers tense up, ready to spring at the sound of the horn.

HOOOOOOONK!

I burst backward, water cascading over my body as I swoop my arms over my head, again and again and again like a human windmill. I kick my legs in quick succession, my toes barely breaching the water. Your kicks have to be short and fast, not thrashing around, or else they’ll slow you down. That’s the thing about swimming: it’s more about form than body type. And I’ve got the form down, making every person who ever doubted me as a chubby swimmer eat it. Just like I’m going to make my douchebag ex eat it.

Thinking of D brings back the image of him and Miguel making out. With each stroke I picture the two of them getting pushed farther and farther apart. Meanwhile, every centimeter of my skin is focused on the feel of the water rushing over my body, each atom aware of how quickly it’s washing over me. But the more I imagine the distance growing between Dominic and Miguel, I get slower.

My anger isn’t fueling me on.

It’s weighing me down.

I finally reach the end of the lane, and muscle memory kicks in. I flip around and dive under. As soon as my head is submerged, an image of Ross in full merform takes over. They probably move with such grace and speed that any of the swimmers here wouldn’t be able to keep up. It’s got to be effortless for them, and their orange hair probably floats above their head like a flame that can never be doused. Their scales must glisten, and I bet anything in the sea pales in comparison to how beautiful they are.

I can’t fail the first time they see me in their element. I’ve got to channel their speed and grace and effortlessness.

I’ve got to be like Ross.

     Ross     

“Fuck, I think I rubbed off on him,” Kavya says. “Something’s wrong.”

“I noticed.” Sean always talks about loving the water, but the look on his face makes it seem like he hates it. He’s stiff and robotic. Slow.

“He’s never this locked up,” Kavya continues. “He’s always one of the best. He’s practically mer.”

I roll my eyes. “Dream on. There’s no way—”

“Wait a minute.” Kavya shakes my shoulder, a smile spreading across her face. “There he is.”

I turn back to the pool in time to see Sean emerge from underwater and immediately flip on his back again. This time, there’s no hesitation in his movements. No jerk as his arms dunk behind his head and come back up at his sides. He’s all fluid movement; he’s part of the water.

He is practically mer.