A Matter of Heart by Dominy Amy Fellner

Author:Dominy, Amy Fellner [Dominy, Amy Fellner]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2015-05-11T23:00:00+00:00

29

It’s nearly noon when I get home, but at least I’m calm. Which is good. Because when I walk in, Dad is at the kitchen sink filling a glass of water.

“Hey.” He half turns to face me. He’s wearing his usual Sunday ratty gray T-shirt, sweats, and tennis shoes. “How was class?”

“Good. No one threw up today.”

“That’s always a bonus.” He pauses. “So…everything else okay?”

Which is code for You didn’t drop dead while swimming?

“Yeah.”

“How did it feel?”

Again code. Could you swim with heart-numbing pills infecting your body?

“It’s was…good,” I say haltingly. “Not exactly like I expected.”

“I wondered.” He nods as if I’ve just confirmed that I’m a loser.

A lump rises in my throat, but I work it back down.

He stands there a long moment, looking at his glass of water. Then he points to the backyard. “Guess I’d better get back out there. I’m finally tackling that dead tree.”

“I figured. You have twigs in your hair.”

He smiles and rubs a hand through his hair until a leaf and a twig flutter into the sink. “Well. That’s it, then.”

And he doesn’t mean the tree.

He’s not looking at me. Will he ever be able to look at me again?

He’s nearly to the back door when I open my mouth and suddenly words are spilling out. “But it wasn’t bad. Just not like I expected.”

Dad stops. He slowly turns, disbelief on his face. But finally, finally, he’s looking at me.

“I mean, it’s different. I’m still getting adjusted.”

“Abby, it’s okay. You—”

“But I think I can be fast.”

He pauses. “Honey, you don’t have to—”

“Not in the hundred,” I say. “I don’t think I’ll have the endurance. But for a fifty-yard sprint.” I don’t know where these lies are coming from, but I let them rush out, and they sound believable even to my own ears. “I mean, it’ll be long course, so I’d have to swim fifty meters, but still. When you think about it, it’s only twenty-something seconds in the pool. I can cover a lot of water with a good dive off the blocks. I can do twenty seconds before my heart’s even out of zone two.”

His eyes zero in on mine. He’s got deep-set eyes, a little squinty at the edges, especially when he’s focused. I stare back with eyes of the same color green, and the same intensity.

He wipes the back of his hand across his lips. “I didn’t think about the fifty. And…you were able to push yourself?”

I shrug. Which is not technically a yes. “I mean, I know it’s just the fifty.”

Dad has never liked the 50. He says it’s for hotdoggers, and besides, it’s too hard to control. In a race that short, it’s all about a perfect start or a perfect flip turn if it’s a 25-yard pool. Anyone can win.

“A lot of good swimmers like the fifty,” he says. He strides back to the kitchen and sets his water glass on the counter. “And you think your time might be competitive?”

“If I have a chance to get adjusted.

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