Read Bad Dreams for Free Online Page A

at the bleachers. A few of herteammates had pulled on their suits and come out to watch. They waved and Maggie waved back.
    Dawn was right, Maggie told herself. Why should I feel so nervous? I’ve raced against these three girls in practice all year.
    â€œLet’s get started,” Coach Randall said curtly. She checked her clipboard. “Tiffany, lane one; Andrea, two; Maggie, three; Dawn, four.”
    The four girls bent over and scooped up water to splash on their bodies. Then they took their places on the starting blocks.
    Before Maggie pulled her goggles on, she spat into them to moisten the rubber edge. She always did this, to make sure the seal was watertight. But this time she had trouble spitting. Her mouth was dry.
    Nervous, nervous, she scolded herself.
    She glanced at Andrea. Her sister was staring straight ahead with an expression of cold determination.
    On Maggie’s right, Dawn was nervously flexing her hands. She had known Dawn Rodgers long enough to know that her confident manner was mostly an act. Dawn was as worried about the race as Maggie was.
    â€œOkay, this is the two-hundred IM,” Coach Randall reminded them. “Butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, freestyle—in that order, two lengths each. Any questions?”
    No one had any, except for the one question they were all silently asking: Who will win?
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Coach Randall moved into a crouch to watch the race and judge the finish.
    Maggie shook her head, trying to clear it. She had so many stray thoughts flying around—Andrea, the new house, Justin….
    She knew if she wanted a shot at winning this race, she was going to have to concentrate. Focus! she told herself. Focus!
    Below her, the water stretched, blue, still, and cold. The four girls lowered themselves into a diving crouch.
    Coach Randall called out, “On your mark, get set—” Then the whistle blew shrilly.
    Maggie dove.
    She hit the water, glided up to the surface, kicking hard.
    The key to the butterfly was the rhythm of the dolphin kick. Maggie tried to picture the grace and strength of a dolphin diving in and out of the water.
    Before she knew it, the first length had ended. Maggie tucked and somersaulted.
    A perfect flip turn.
    She could tell she was in first place.
    Concentrate! Concentrate!
    Maybe she had started too fast. It was only the second length, and she was feeling tired, slowing down.
    Concentrate!
    Halfway through the first length of the backstroke, Maggie saw Dawn pass her on the right. Then Andrea started edging by on her left. There was noway to know where Tiffany was, since she was two lanes away.
    So much for her early lead! The coach was screaming instructions, and her teammates were screaming encouragement.
    But their voices were only a jumbled echo. “Dig! Dig!” was the only thing Maggie picked up.
    Breaststroke next.
    Maggie was breathing hard now, and every muscle ached.
    But the thought of losing hurt a lot more.
    She silently commanded herself:
Faster! Faster!
    She pushed harder, harder—as she came to the end of the breaststroke. But then she made a poor turn at the wall.
    I’ve blown it! she thought.
    She had never lost a really big race before.
    Could she still win? It was now or never.
    Freestyle was her strongest stroke. But she had only two laps to catch up.
    She felt as if she were skimming over the water. The shrill cheers and screams in the gym reached an even higher pitch. Nearing the far wall, Maggie passed Andrea—then Tiffany.
    Maggie kept charging. She was swimming very close to the lane marker, but there was no time to straighten out now. She just had to hope that her hand didn’t smack into the little lane markers, or she’d lose for sure.
    Faster! Faster!
    She pulled herself forward, churning through thewater with all her might. She was only inches behind Dawn now.
    Only a few strokes left.
    She pulled with all her might and stretched for the