My arms strained forward and my legs kicked furiously on overdrive. I cupped my hands and dug deep into the water. With every stroke, I drew closer to the wall and to finishing the race. As soon as I touched the tile, I jerked my head up and whipped off my goggles. I glanced at the lanes on either side of me and smiled when I realized no one else had reached the wall yet.

First place again!

Even though this had been a practice race, I was thrilled. The real test would come this weekend during the meet.

"Fantastic work, Rayne!" Coach Hansen congratulated me. He reached down and extended a hand to help me out of the pool.

"Thanks," I wheezed, climbing out onto the pool deck. I placed my hands on my hips, waiting for my pulse to go down to normal.

"You never fail to surprise me," he continued. "Keep up the phenomenal work. I have a feeling we're going to do great in the next meet, especially"—here he lowered his voice—"with you as our star swimmer."

I laughed nervously. "Thanks...I sure hope so."

Once Coach Hansen left to critique the other swimmers, Sage and Marley came up to me with huge smiles on their faces. "Teacher's pet!" Marley teased.

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, right."

"Oh, come on. It's so obvious," Sage put in. "Coach is always saying good things about you, and he rarely ever critiques you unless he's in a nitpicky mood."

"Not true."

"It is so true," she argued. "You're his favorite swimmer. Everybody knows that."

"Yeah, including the Mad Hansen." Marley jerked a thumb towards the swimmer scowling at us from lane 3. "Apparently she doesn't like coming in second place."

"It was just a practice race." I shook my head. "She needs to cool her jets."

"She hates you with a passion. I don't think cooling her jets is an option," Marley chuckled.

"I don't see how that's funny." Sage crossed her arms over her chest. She leaned in and narrowed her eyes. "Last year," she murmured, "Madeleine had the guts to beat up a guy from the swim team. He gave her a rude comment, so she gave him two black eyes and a broken nose."

My eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. All I'm saying is, you better not do anything to get on her nerves," Sage warned. "She's a loose cannon if I ever saw one."

I swallowed nervously. "Yikes," I murmured, remembering our little confrontation in front of Mrs. Brown's class the other day.

"So do you guys have any plans for the weekend?" Marley asked, swiftly changing the subject. The three of us immediately forgot all about Madeleine and jumped right into a new conversation. We were talking at full volume as we entered the women's locker room.

"Hey, why don't you guys come over to my place after the swim meet?" I suggested.

"Sure," Marley said automatically.

"Of course! Let me just double-check with my parents first," Sage added.

"Great." I finished changing into my jeans and T-shirt before combing out my long black hair. I was about to wrap it up into another bun when Sage suddenly cried out.

"Rayne!" she exclaimed. "I've been meaning to tell you, your hair is so beautiful. I can't get over it."

"Oh, this?" I held up one of my locks. "Well, thanks. Most of the time it just gets in my way."

"Because it's so long?" Marley asked, stepping up to admire my hair. She ran her fingers through it and grinned. "Hey, when we come over to your house this weekend we should try something with it."

"Oh my gosh, yes," Sage gushed.

"Okay," I agreed reluctantly, quickly sweeping my hair up into a bun. I pinned it neatly against the back of my head, causing Marley and Sage to frown.

"Can't you leave it down for once?" Sage asked.

"Like I said before, it gets in my way." I bent down and grabbed my belongings, not really wanting to give away the real reason I never showed off my hair. I was afraid people would poke fun at me because of how dark and lengthy it was. No one else even came close to having hair like mine—and not just because it could glow in the moonlight. Since it was extremely dark and straight, falling down my back like an ebony waterfall, it turned heads whenever I wore it down. My hair was sure to bring me unwanted attention.

"Fine," Marley sighed, "but just remember, we're fixing it up at your house on Saturday!"

"All right." I grinned and waved goodbye to my two friends before stepping out of the locker room. It was that time again—time for another tutoring session in the library. I was eager to see Luke again, but also reluctant to make a fool of myself like I had last time.

"Rayne!" called a voice.

I turned around, surprised to see Coach Hansen waving and beckoning me over from the entrance to the locker rooms.

"Yeah?" I asked, retracing my steps.

"I have something to ask you," he said, betraying a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Oh, okay."

"What would you say to an after-school training session? It would be one-on-one, aimed at getting you prepared for the Junior Olympics."

It wasn't what I was expecting. "Well..."

"You don't have to decide right now, of course. Go home and ask your dad about it. Training would only take an extra hour after school." He smiled broadly. "Promise me you'll think about it?"

"Of course." We said goodbye, and I headed in the direction of the library with an entirely new dilemma on my hands: tutoring, or training? After mulling over my options for a few moments, I suddenly stopped and realized the exquisite irony of the situation. If, a few months ago, my former coach had offered me this opportunity, I would have jumped on it in a heartbeat. But now—well, now swimming wasn't my top priority. It was bizarre to think about it that way, but I knew in my heart it was true. Though I still enjoyed racing, it wasn't my ultimate passion. It didn't consume my every thought.

And that was a peculiar feeling.

"Hey, Rayne," Luke greeted me as soon as I set foot in the library.

I smiled, all thoughts of swimming suddenly gone. "Oh, hey," I called.

He was sitting at a table in the middle of the library. "Sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you in class today," he said. "How'd you do with the verb conjugations?"

"Much better," I replied truthfully.

Luke beamed. "Great! I was afraid you might not have understood it completely, since...you know."

I gave him a quizzical look.

"Well, this is my first time tutoring someone in Spanish, so I'm not exactly the most seasoned teacher, if you know what I mean."

I wasn't exactly sure how to reply, so I took a seat and began rifling through my backpack. Maybe as long as I kept my mouth shut, I wouldn't make a fool of myself.

"So," Luke said, clearing his throat, "let's take a look at tonight's homework."

I couldn't help but wonder if something was on his mind. For some reason he was acting a little differently today. But Luke removed all doubts from my mind as soon as he launched into my first lesson. For the next hour, as we worked on Senora Ramirez's assignment, I realized I was already improving greatly on my understanding of the Spanish language. Things were falling into place, piece by piece. Yet at the same time, I was falling for Luke's charm. I caught myself gazing into his chocolate-brown eyes once or twice instead of the words he was writing on my paper. I found myself studying the way he gestured during his explanations rather than absorbing the information I desperately needed to know.

Fortunately, the tutoring session was still fairly productive. Luke helped me finish my entire homework packet for the weekend, which cleared up my schedule immensely. For that I was extremely grateful. "Thank you so much," I said as Luke and I packed our belongings and got ready to leave.

"No problem. Good work today." He slung his backpack over one shoulder. "I guess I'll see you Monday?" he asked, a little hesitantly.

"Yeah. See you then." I watched as he headed towards the door, heaving a little sigh. Oh, darn it. "Luke!" I called.

He paused and turned back to face me.

"Why—why are you doing this?" I asked cautiously.

"What, tutoring you?"

I nodded.

One corner of his mouth turned up, and he shrugged lightly. "I don't really know. I like to help people out, but I also like teaching. I've always wanted to be a professor, or a tour guide, or someone like that."

"And you're really willing to help me out every day after school?"

"Well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," he admitted. "If it's okay with you, we don't have to meet here every single day after school. We could make this a Tuesday/Thursday thing or whatever."

My heart did a little skip at the thought. Having tutoring only on Tuesday and Thursday would leave me more time to swim in the ocean—but then again, it would open the door for a Monday/Wednesday/Friday training session with Coach Hansen, which I knew Dad would probably push me to do.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted, "No."

"No?"

"Let's keep meeting here every day after school."

He paused. I couldn't read his expression, so I backtracked and said, "We don't have to if you don't want to."

"No! No, that's totally fine."

"If you ever get tired of tutoring, we could always do a group study or something, I guess."

"Right. That would be fine. I'm not very busy after school since I'm not in any clubs, and I don't play any sports."

"Me neither. Well, except for swimming, of course, which I guess is considered a sport."

Luke chuckled, and I suddenly realized what I'd said. I mentally face-palmed myself.

"Well, I guess I better get going," he said, shifting his weight. "Good luck tomorrow."

"Thanks." I smiled. "Wait, how did you know about the swim meet tomorrow?"

"Sage," he replied automatically.

Of course. The two of them had been friends for a long time, apparently—maybe even as far back as elementary school.

I waved and headed out the door, my heart still aflutter with thoughts of Luke, and tutoring, and Luke...

_ _ _ _ _

"You better hurry if you want to make it on time!" Dad hollered, nearly shoving me out of the car.

"I'm going, I'm going!" I huffed, fumbling to grab my swim bag from the backseat.

"We would have gotten here on time if you didn't go on that hike," Dad grumbled. "Where did you go that took two hours, anyway?"

"Nowhere." I finally got ahold of my swim bag and yanked it out, then darted quickly out the door. "Bye!" I hollered. I didn't wait for a reply—I ran as fast as I could to the locker room and changed into my racing suit in record time. I was still trying to shove my swim cap over my sloppy bun as I stumbled onto the pool deck. By the time I reached Coach and the team, I was nearly twenty minutes late. My heat was near the end of the meet anyway, but I should have been on time to warm up. I had lost track of time while swimming in the ocean earlier that morning. My new record for holding my breath was two minutes—a surprisingly long time, considering that I had only been practicing for a few days.

"Rayne!" Coach Hansen hollered.

"Sorry I'm late," I gasped, out of breath from my short sprint. "I got here as soon as I could."

His expression softened. "Well, I'm glad you're here. Go ahead and warm up," he said in a kinder tone.

Knowing that I had just swam in the ocean for two hours straight, I replied, "Actually, I'm fine."

Coach raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He hesitated. "Fine, but I'm taking your word for it. We don't want our number one swimmer pulling a muscle."

He had a point, but seeing as I had been swimming two to three times more than normal without any ramifications, I figured I would be fine.

"So what did your father say about the after-school training session?" he asked.

I cringed, suddenly realizing that I had yet to talk to Dad about Coach Hansen's offer. I said the first thing that came to mind and explained, "Well, I actually have other commitments that I need to keep. My grades have been slipping, so I'm seeing a tutor directly after school."

"Oh. How many days a week?"

"Every day."

Coach frowned. "Well...I guess that can't be helped." He sighed thoughtfully. "Maybe I can set aside some extra time during swim period. While the other kids are doing their laps, I can work with you one-on-one."

I nodded eagerly. "Of course. Thank you." Then, remembering Madeleine, I wondered if maybe that wasn't such a great idea after all. How would she handle a special training session created specifically for me?

"Won't that make some students feel left out?" I asked carefully.

Coach Hansen laughed loudly. "Left out? Of course not, Rayne! You're Olympic material. And Olympians always make sacrifices for their sport. Consider this a minor sacrifice on my behalf."

I nodded again. Coach took a step back, his encouragement sufficiently renewed, and said, "Well, I think I'll go ahead and talk to your dad about some extra training. Hopefully we can work something out."

"Yeah. Hopefully." As soon as he left, I immediately turned my attention to searching for Sage and Marley amid the sea of faces that made up the Shady Cove High swim team. Once I spotted them, I rushed over.

Upon seeing me, they both dropped their conversation and exclaimed, "Rayne! Where were you?"

"Sorry I'm late, I lost track of time," I said breathlessly.

"Well, good thing you just got here! Your heat is coming up in two minutes," Marley explained.

"What?"

"They had to rearrange the schedule," Sage clarified.

"Oh, great." I sighed and pulled my goggles over my swim cap, letting them rest on my forehead. "I guess I'd better head over to the starting blocks, then."

"Good luck!" Marley called.

"Go kill 'em, Rayne!" Sage hollered.

I couldn't help but chuckle at Sage's uncharacteristic comment as I made my way over to the side of the pool. It was time to get in the zone. Even though I had gotten an extremely late start, I still needed to cool down and mentally prepare myself to race. I shook out my arms and did a few light stretches, all the while staring at the turquoise water lapping at the edges of the pool.

Before long, the announcer called my race and heat, and I stepped up to the appropriate lane. I could hear my teammates cheering me on as I pulled my goggles down over my eyes. I let out a deep breath as the announcer continued to call out the names of the current swimmers—four from Shady Cove High and four from St. Paul's, the opposing school. But my heart stopped when Madeleine Hansen's name was announced.

I closed my eyes, already picturing her permanent glare fixated on my face. If I were any other swimmer, I would let Madeleine beat me so I didn't have to suffer through another week of her glares and bad attitude. But I wasn't just any swimmer—I was Rayne Bennett, the best swimmer on the pool deck. And this was my race to win.

The referee blew a series of short whistles, followed by one long whistle. The sound pierced the cool autumn air, silencing most of the commotion on the pool deck.

I stepped onto the starting block with my right foot forward, left foot back.

"Take your marks."

I bent over and gripped the starting block with both hands. All right, I thought, narrowing my eyes and focusing on the shifting blue water beneath me. Let's do this.

There was silence for about two seconds, andthen the buzzer sounded. The race was on.