As I searched for my new passion, my copy of the student activities booklet became as dog-eared as an old lady’s bible. Needless to say, things like the debate club and student politics held no appeal. Music wasn’t my thing, and those groups were already formed. Drama? Right. The next big production at the student theater was going to be A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It was hard to imagine Titania or the fairies on crutches.
I almost didn’t bother to read the Intramural Sports section. At Harkness, the houses competed against one another, accumulating points. It was just like in Harry Potter. Instead of Quidditch, there were the usual muggle offerings: soccer, basketball, and squash. There was nothing for me there. I paused on “billiards,” but my chair wouldn’t really sit up high enough for me to reach the table. And anyway, I sucked at billiards, even as a whole person.
When I finally spotted it at the bottom of the last page, I laughed. There it was — a sport for me. It wasn’t perfect. In fact, it was a little bit ridiculous. But I thought it might be a winner.
“Mom?” I found her in the laundry room, folding my father’s underwear.
“Yes, honey?”
“I will do those sessions in the therapy pool. Not the gym.”
Her face brightened. “Great! Let’s find your bathing suit.”
“Do you think I could start tomorrow?”
She ran for the telephone.
The pool therapist was a blond Amazon named Heather. She was a few years older than me, and almost certainly a favorite among the male rehab patients. They must be lining up for sessions with Heather and her bright red one-piece.
After a half an hour with her, I was clinging to the side of the pool, panting. As it turns out, swimming with only your arms is exhausting.
“Really, Corey,” Heather said. “Most patients use the float belt, at least at the beginning. It doesn’t make you a wimp.”
“But we don’t have a lot of time,” I said.
“What, exactly, are your training goals for our sessions together?” Heather asked, tipping her perfect chin towards me.
“Swimming as hard as I can. And one extra thing. I need to figure out how to climb into an inner tube, with my butt in the center.”
“Because you want to…go river tubing?” she guessed.
“Not exactly,” I said.
When I told her my plan, she laughed. “I’ll find an inner tube, then. This will be fun.”
Chapter Sixteen: It's What I Do
— Corey
I didn’t see Hartley at all the night I got back. Sticking to my new plan, I ate dinner with Dana and one of her singing group buddies in the Trindle House dining hall. When we came home, his door was dark underneath. This is going to be fine, I told myself. Hartley would probably divide his time between his own room and wherever Stacia lived — probably in Beaumont House. I would get a little distance from him, and work on moving on.
Operation Forget About Hartley was underway. O.F.A.H., for short.
From my bedroom I made an important phone call. There were two students listed as contacts for the intramural team that I wanted to join: the team captain, and a manager. The manager’s name sounded friendlier, so I looked up her number in the campus directory, dialing before I could lose my nerve. Allison Li answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Allison?” I said, my voice barely shaking. “I’m Corey, a First Year, and I was reading over break about the co-ed inner tube water polo team?”
“Hi Corey!” she said. “We’d love to have you. And you have good timing. We’re having a practice tomorrow night.”
“Well…” I squeaked. “I need to make sure that you’re serious when you say that there’s no experience necessary.”
“Corey, if I can be blunt, anyone with a pulse is welcome. Especially girls. The rules are that we have to have three women in the water at all times. Last year we had to forfeit a couple of games because we couldn’t fill out our team. There are a total of eleven games — one against each house.”
That sounded promising.
“Great,” I said. “My next question is something you probably don’t hear too often. Do you happen to know if the practice pool is wheelchair accessible?” Crutches on a slippery pool deck sounded like a bad idea.
To her credit, she paused only slightly. “I think so. Yeah — sure it is. I’ve seen therapy sessions in there.”
“Allison,” I said. “I promise I swim a lot better than I walk.”
She laughed, which made me happy. “Okay, Corey. I’ll see you tomorrow night? We start at seven.”
“I’ll be there.”
I hung up feeling all kinds of victorious.
“Callahan.”
I woke up slowly to the sound of someone whispering in my ear.
“Callahan, check it out.”
My eyes opened, and then I jerked awake. Because Hartley was standing over my bed in shorts and a T-shirt. And my heart seized up at the sight of him. Those brown eyes and that lopsided smile were even more affecting than I’d remembered.
Get a grip, I ordered myself.
“Look.” He grinned down at me, pointing at his leg.