Annabelle imagined swimming the fly leg on a medley relay team with Elisa on freestyle. All the older girls high-fiving her after they won a big race—the race that got them into the Invitational. Connor Madison reaching down to hug her. Picking her up and spinning her around in the air, even, with everybody watching.

“I . . . I think that could be good.” Annabelle’s voice came out little-girl soft, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I’d like that.”

“We have to run the idea past Annabelle’s mom, of course. But this sounds like a terrific opportunity!” Mitch said.

He sounded even happier than when he’d finally fixed up his little sailboat enough to get it out on the bay last summer, and it felt so good to be the one who could make him that happy.

Colette nodded. “Of course.”

Annabelle practically skipped to the car, where Jeremy was waiting. Because if she could help the high school team get to the Labor Day Invitational? Then Jeremy wouldn’t look at her with his forehead crinkled up with pity, and Mia wouldn’t say, “Aww, Annabelle,” and even Mom might see that doing well at swimming could be as important as doing well at school. And if Connor Madison kept looking at her the way he’d been looking at her?

Then it wouldn’t matter if Reagan visited Mia and Jeremy left in July and this summer wasn’t like last summer. Then this summer would be better than last summer. Than any summer.

Chapter 5

The good thing was, Mom said yes right away when Annabelle asked about swimming up on the high school team. “As long as you stick to the summer reading schedule and don’t miss tutoring.”

Annabelle didn’t see her regular tutor during the summer, but as soon as Mom had seen her report card, she’d lined up Janine, who had graduated from the Academy two years ago and was home from college. Janine was supposed to help Annabelle get through her summer reading books and get a head start on the history textbook for next year, since Mr. Derrickson was going to be her teacher again.

“School comes first, even in the summer,” Mom added, her voice way too loud for how close together they were sitting.

They were eating dinner out on the deck, Annabelle’s favorite part of the house. Before they’d moved in, they’d had to replace half of the wood because it was rotting. At first, the new parts weren’t weathered yet, so the new cedar planks and shingles were smooth and light brown instead of rough and dark gray like everything else. Mom had hated the way the new parts didn’t match. But Annabelle had liked looking at the floor of the deck, where a new piece of wood lay right smack next to an old one. Same length, same width, and from the same kind of tree, but a completely different color and texture.

Slowly, the new ones were getting closer and closer to matching the old, and there was something comforting about watching them change a little bit at a time and knowing that she’d been there for all the windy winter days and sunny summer ones that had weathered them.