The swimming pool is a new, modern affair, far too nice for the neighborhood it sits in. The inside is light, bright, and colorful, with large windows reaching up to the ceiling, letting in copious amounts of summer sun. A few abstract shapes, arty objects of textiles in summer colors, hang suspended from the ceiling in front of the windows. They provide some protection against direct sunlight but do nothing to keep the heat out. The place is damp and stupidly hot.

Light blue tiles color the basin, suggesting a refreshing dive. The water isn’t boiling yet, but I feel like it should. A shallow pool for children is dry and cordoned off. A sign nearby says it’s closed for maintenance. There’s a green water slide ending in the main basin which sees some use. A floating rope separates our section from the regular visitors and their slide. Not that there are many, just an older couple and a few kids, watched over by a bored-looking lifeguard.

The school's staff sorts us by some esoteric and arcane protocol, then makes us line up next to the pool. All except David’s groupies. McKinnon marches the three Jennifers back to the changing rooms. One of the teachers watches them pass, his mouth a little open, and his face turns beet-red when he notices we noticed. Pervert. Then we wait long enough for one boy pushing another into the water, two girls needing to pee, and the nerds getting tired of discussing the latest game releases. I. Am. So. Utterly bored.

Once the Jennifers return they all wear demure black swimsuits, emblazoned with the school’s logo. McKinnon's face is grim when she delivers a lecture on rules, safety, and things we're supposed to do in case of emergencies. Nobody pays much attention. We’re all too busy eyeing each other, chatting, or moodily staring at the water. Camelia and I have that last category all to ourselves.

A staff member assists in setting up the swim lanes before we’re sent into the water, one by one in a steady stream, except for Lug who stands at the edge of the pool. A wise decision. The girl in front of me, blond braids, blue eyes, a tad stupid and doing her best to look like an Elsa, jumps in. And sinks like the proverbial brick. Before anyone can react Lug jumps in to save her. Once rescued she breathlessly clings to him for dear life, her head resting on his abs a little longer than necessary. He doesn’t seem to mind.

I sigh and dive in. I'm so tired I fear I might not surface again.

We swim.

Miss McKinnon watches us, takes notes, and tells us what to do next. Breaststroke, butterfly, you name it. One by one people are sent over to the other side, joining an ever larger and louder crowd of students fooling around. I admit I've been slacking a bit, hoping she would send me away as well. I’m about to put some real effort into it when we are told to get out of the water. And so we do, waiting for McKinnon.

She busies herself with the papers on her clipboard before she addresses us. “That was pathetic,” she says.

Tell me something I don't know.

The two remaining first-graders, a boy and a girl, plop down and look afraid. The rest of us survivors stand in a jagged line. I peek at my companions. Anger and confusion compete with disinterest and one wide grin. That grin belongs to Lug who seems to think McKinnon's comment is funny.

David is borderline ignoring our coach, talking with the one Jennifer who made it thus far. Camelia eyes the scene and looks like she's about to kill someone. Next to Camelia stands the blonde girl with the braids Lug had to rescue. Somehow she made it, still drooling over Lug's physique. A little back stands a white-haired boy with a tribal tattoo stretching over his shoulder onto his left arm, doing the same. The last in line must be William's younger brother, same dark skin, same striking green eyes, black hair but without the Rasta haircut. When our eyes meet he gives me an infectious smile. I smile back.

Miss Cathy McKinnon waves her clipboard in the direction of the pool. "Does anyone know why we are here?"

"To swim?" the Jennifer guesses. She must have studied lots and lots of anime to look and sound that innocent. I'm not convinced she is, and the sniggers and coughs tell me I'm not the only one. But she pulls it off, McKinnon lets it slide.

"Indeed, to swim. And why do we swim?"

"To join the sports team," one of the first-graders replies, the girl. Her innocence seems to be real.

"And why do we join the sports team?" Cathy McKinnon asks.

William's possible brother looks at me and shrugs. I shrug back. That's a good one. I don't want to join, but this may not be the right moment to say so.

The blonde Elsa girl mutters something, and McKinnon asks her to speak aloud.

"I was doing it for the extra points," the girl says.

That's the wrong answer, and she's sent over to the non-competing side of the swimming pool, tears in her eyes. No more abs for her.

"Try again," McKinnon says.

The silence makes her sigh. "Nuttley's High is all about good education in a great environment. A healthy mind in a healthy body. We still have track and field and other sports on our curriculum, where other institutions... ignore such things. Now we at Nuttley's want to promote our point of view, and to do so we will participate in the regional school sports competition. A great way to meet our peers and build new friendships. And, of course -"

David raises his hand.

"Yes, David?"

"We'd also like to kick the crap out of them," he says.

People laugh and McKinnon smiles. "Yeah, and that we will, David. It's called 'winning', by the way. And it won't happen without a little effort. This year I want to win. I need runners, swimmers, baseball players, everything. But only the best."

"I am the best," Lug says.

McKinnon shakes her head. "You're not the best, Hank, you're the least pathetic."

"I am the best, in everything. Except for badminton. Hey David, how come I didn't win badminton last year?" Lug asks.

David snorts. "You didn't play badminton last year. And you suck at it. Big time."

"Mister Kind, mind your language!" McKinnon bites.

He shrugs. "Well, it's true. Besides, it's a game for wussies."

The Jennifer pouts. "I like badminton."

Camelia eyes her coldly. "I don't."

McKinnon raises her hands. "Silent! Now listen carefully. As you all know... As most... As many of you know, this year we are going to participate in a number of events. Triathlon, baseball, softball, badminton, athletics, and hockey. There's no soccer team nor football team this year. We may hold our own martial arts tournament, but that's not sure yet. But we'll field a swimming team. Yes, I know how wrong that sounds. But here's the good news, you are the lucky ones! You can trial first."

"I like football," Lug mumbles.

Camelia gives him the same icy stare she gave the Jennifer. "I don't."

"It's better than soccer. Soccer sucks. It does. Still better than badminton though, that really sucks. Twice."

Lug rolls his biceps, and the boy with the tribal tattoo swoons. Swoons... Lug notices and pushes him away. McKinnon's face shows the minute cracks in her self-control. Truth to be told, we are behaving like little children. I suppress a yawn and turn towards Camelia. She sniffs.

"Well, I like soccer. You probably don't." I'm not entirely sure why I'm trying to annoy her.

Lug agrees. "I'm with stupid here. Soccer's a girl's game, nobody likes it."

"That's not what I said. And who are you calling a stupid?"

"I want the best," Cathy McKinnon grinds. "I am not going to coerce you guys by promising you extra points or favors, because you won't get any. But if you disappoint me..." Her threat lingers in the air.

"Then it's talking to our parents, detention, extra homework, and voluntary community service," David says. He winks at the Jennifer. "Well, sign me up, I'm all yours."

"No, you're not, you're mine," Camelia growls.

"I thought I was," I tell her.

David points at the two kids. "Ladies, ladies. Think about the little ones. No fighting."

"Martial arts suck," Lug says.

Camelia opens her mouth to reply, but McKinnon has had enough. She slams her clipboard against a low stone wall. A corner of the clipboard breaks off, black pieces of plastic fall to the ground. We mutter whilst Cathy McKinnon picks up the pieces and puts them in her pocket. She clears her throat and our muttering dies.

"That's enough. If you want to jabber like little kids then do so elsewhere. We're here to see who's the best of you lot. You may think it's fun, but sports is a serious business. You knew I am expecting better… If you don't care, then just leave and stop wasting my time and that of your classmates." McKinnon points at the other half of the pool where the other Nuttley kids fool around. "Go ahead. Do yourself and me a favor, and leave. I won't hold it against you. Do I make myself clear?"

We shuffle our feet, but nobody takes McKinnon's offer. William's probable brother and I exchange a knowing glance, and we shrug simultaneously. Detention. Homework. Community service. Topped by a good lashing with the nine-tail whip. And we didn't even volunteer.

Yep. I think we got the message.