Was And Is Are Two Very Different Things

• Amanda Moore, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2015

His long, slim figured glides through the water. He stretches one arm over the other and keeps going. His legs work hard. Left then right. Left arm, right arm. He stops at one end to catch a breath. Measuring and calming his breath. He beats the rest to finish and leans against the wall with a bottle of water. Then he's off again. Pushing harder than last time. From above he looks pale and shiny. Tiny splashes flip and turn, then sink back into the water. He stops. Fifteen. Over and over. He flips and tumble turns. Gliding effortlessly through the pool like the way people imagine fish swim beneath the surface. Gentle. Swimming as though he may hurt the water. Timid and focused. Pushing himself through with beauty and grace. He finishes.
He climbs out of the pool and as he climbs out, his fish like appearance enhances. Water droplets glide and slip off his skin, dropping into the pool and causing ripples. Some water droplets sit on his skin, gleaming like the scales of a fish. He stands at the edge of the pool, curling his toes over the thick, brick wall. Ready to jump. He bends down and is ready to dive. He hears the whistle, like a gunshot in the silence of a long ended war. He jumps. Falling. Then flying. Soaring through the air. His body enters the water and he glides. Then he is off. Pushing and stroking.
Touching the end his body emerges. His solid chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily. Inhaling deeply. Expelling it fast. He climbs out and wanders back to the other end of the pool. Jumping. Falling. Flying. Then gliding.
This was Jordan.
He trudges up the stairs. Hands in his pockets, buried deep from the burning cold. He continues upwards. Towards the door that would lead to the end.
He had long awaited sleep to take him.
While he was swimming it felt like everything was lifted of his shoulders, as though the world was on his shoulders and when he dived, it disappeared. Smashed and crashed. He was free. He was released.
He tried to fit in, but no one ever understood him. He tried more, but the more he tried the more he realised that he didn't belong here.
Sucking and gasping for air he begins running up the stairs, willing his legs to go faster and pushing himself harder.
Would anyone try to stop him?
Would anyone notice?
Would anyone care?
Now, as he reaches the top and pushes the door open, he sucks in a deep breath of fresh air. Not the musty air inside the stair way but the cool air from the roof. The roof where the test would be done.
As he steps out, he slips off his shoes and walks to the edge, curling his toes over the thick, concrete edge. He leans down like he had at swimming.
Ready.
This is Jordan.