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Hollings moaned, clutching her ears. “We won’t be able to hear the starting whistle.”
    Dawn laughed. “You’ll hear it all right. And here’s the next thing you’ll hear.” She cupped her hand into a microphone. “Now swimming the two-hundred IM for Shadyside, in lane number one—Dawwwwwnnn Rodgers!”
    Maggie was sitting on the bench next to Dawn, braiding her hair and smiling broadly. Imitating an announcer’s voice, she added, “But what’s this? Dawn’s wearing her tennis whites! Oh, no—those are definitely going to slow her down.”
    Dawn, Maggie, and Tiffany laughed at that. Only Andrea, who had been scrabbling through her locker in the corner, didn’t seem to hear.
    Coach Randall had asked the four girls to come to practice fifteen minutes early, so they could race while they were still fresh. The locker door opened just then, and Carly Pedersen, Claudia Walker, and Renee Larson, all members of the swim team, strolled in. “Hey, you guys, good luck today!” Carly called.
    Maggie grinned and waved, but her heart did a flip turn. That’s what it felt like, anyway.
    In competitive swimming, the racer somersaulted at the end of each lap, pushing off the wall with her feet. It was called a flip turn. About five minutes before every race, Maggie’s heart and stomach started doing flip turns.
    â€œOkay, okay,” Andrea suddenly said, and slammed her locker shut. “Let’s have it, Maggie.”
    Maggie turned to her sister in surprise. “Have what?”
    â€œMy bathing cap. Where did you hide it?”
    Unbelievable! Maggie thought. Andrea was always accusing her of things. “Did you lose it?” Maggie asked.
    â€œDid I lose it?” Andrea mimicked nastily. “Very funny. Hand it over.”
    Everyone in the locker room was staring at them. “Andrea,” Maggie said as patiently as she could, “I didn’t take it.” She bent into her locker. “Here, maybe I have an extra one.”
    â€œI don’t want an
extra
one. I want mine,” Andrea insisted.
    Andrea had dumped most of her stuff on the floor. Tiffany pointed to something white sticking out from under Andrea’s backpack. “Is that it?”
    Andrea yanked the backpack away, revealing her bathing cap. “Oh—yeah,” she mumbled, red-faced.
    Some of the other girls in the locker room started giggling, which only made Andrea blush harder. Maggie turned away. Even when Andrea was actinglike a spoiled brat, she didn’t want to see her get teased.
    Tiffany finished dressing and started some warm-up stretches. “I think I’m going to hurl!” she declared as she bent her head toward the floor.
    â€œYou’re that stressed out?” Dawn asked. “Relax. You have nothing to worry about. You always swim great. Besides, we’re all on the same team, right?”
    â€œThat’s right,” agreed Maggie, glancing at Andrea.
    The locker room door swung open, and Coach Randall walked in, carrying her clipboard.
    Martha Randall was tall and stick-thin, even thinner than Maggie. As a teenage swimmer, she had once made it all the way to the Olympic trials. Now she was in her forties, and she still had the intensity of a champion. It was a quality Maggie really admired.
    Coach Randall rarely said much. Today was no exception. “Okay, the four girls for the two-hundred IM,” she said, studying her clipboard. “Let’s go.”
    This was the one part of swimming that Maggie hated, the time just before she got in the water. She knew she’d be all right once the race started. But now she was starting to feel dizzy as they padded barefoot through the long hallway that led to the pool.
    The familiar smell of steam and chlorine swept over her. The pool gurgled softly, the water slapping gently against the sides.
    â€œGood luck,” Maggie murmured to Andrea.
    Maggie glanced