Splashing into the water, I sank underneath the roiling waves and scowled to myself. “That little…” Floating there in the calming waters, I contemplated the many different ways I could get her back for shoving me into the pool. Nothing could be done now, so I shrugged and pulled for the bright cloudless blue sky above those choppy waters.

As my head broke the water’s surface, I glanced to my left and saw her sitting there, still grinning at me. I was still a bit peeved that she was able to catch me off-guard, but I couldn’t help but laugh inside. She was definitely a girl with a funny bone and I liked that. I splashed a wall of cold water in her direction, eliciting a shriek and wiping the smile off her face. A smug smile of satisfaction creased my face, then I turned and swam off.

After warming up, we started various passing/shooting drills, then broke into two separate groups to run half court plays. Toward the end of practice, we would always run half court scrimmages, which was always something to look forward to. It was a way to get in some real-time offense and defense practice, and for us to learn and understand the game in greater depth. We were split into teams and I ended up on defense.

This time, I got stuck guarding the hole. The hole-man, aka 2m/center-forward, is the hub of an attacking offense. The hole-man sits right in front of the goal and there are only 2 people who separate him from a score; the hole-defender and the goalie. That position also generally goes to one of the biggest guys on the team, since size, strength and overall power is extremely important in that position. I was never a small guy by any measure, but the hole-man and hole-defender are probably the most physical positions that you could possibly play.

Time flew swiftly as practice dined on our energetic containers of life. Practice was always tiring, but filled a certain part of us with fun and it helped fuel our competitive streaks as young independent souls. Between the piercing screams of the whistle, breathless yelling of my teammates and the barking commands of my coach, I found contentment. As odd as it may sound, this was a place where I could submerge myself in the pure essence of the sport; embracing the ferocious intensity, the camaraderie and constant conflict and feel at peace.

“Press him, but no foul. No foul!” my teammates screamed.

Gritting my teeth, I kicked harder. Forcing the hole-set out of position and preventing him from getting his hand on the ball was my task. I pushed him forward with a quick churn of my legs and set myself in anticipation of the pass that would surely come. He tried to put some distance between our bodies by shoving me underwater and extending his arm, forcing me to kick harder and maneuver around so my arms would always be in range to pick off an incoming pass.

“No ball! No ball!,” the hole-set cried out. So far, I was successful at being enough of a nuisance that he didn’t want his teammates to pass him the ball, less I pick it off and steal it. Looking around at the field, I swam players tirelessly stop and swim, changing directions like flitting human fish, trying to find an opening without a defender on his back.

The ball got passed around the perimeter in hopes that one of the guys would find an open shot. “Drive, drive, drive!” came the calls from the offense to get players to move and find open shots. “Ball left, ball left! Ball right, ball right!” the goalie bellowed, to help keep us informed of the ball’s progress as it was passed around. In the hole, we were both fighting to maintain a superior position, pushing, shoving and rotating to see where the ball was.

“He’s gonna shoot!” I cried when I saw the look in the opposing player’s eyes. I tried to rotate around to the shooter’s side so I could somehow help the goalie defend, but the hole-set had other ideas. He grabbed one of my wrists and held it underwater so I couldn’t move to get up out of the water, or move around him to cut off the angle of attack. I lurched to the shooter’s side and raised my free arm to help ward off the incoming shot.

Rising up out of the water, he pulled his arm back to shoot, did a pump-fake and fired away. The ball streaked forward, this bright yellow blur that could hardly be seen. All you could do was react. My arm was already in the raised position the moment the shooter rose out of the water. It was there as a preventative measure, just in case the ball hit my arm and bounced out.

I didn’t exactly see the ball, but I sure as hell felt it. Instead of hitting my arm, it ricocheted off of my skull with a resounding boom and flew up and over the goal. Holding my head, I sank underwater. There was no blood, but it sure as hell hurt. The pain wasn’t welcome, but wasn’t unexpected. I floated to the surface and sat there, treading water as my teammates crowded around me, each offering to help me if I needed it. Coach came to the side closest to me and asked if I was alright. Waving them off, I said that I was ok and I just needed to rest a little.

I slowly swam over to the side of the pool, with short breaststroke kicks, my hands still holding my head. Clutching the slippery tile gutter, I closed my eyes, leaned back, took a deep cleansing breath and rested my head against the cool tile. I floated there in silence, hoping that the pain would go away soon. I couldn’t even recognize the thunderous song the band was playing.

Feeling soft fingers brushing away the orphaned strands of hair that matted my forehead, I opened my eyes to see her face framed by a backdrop of floating clouds and blue sky looking down at me. The color of worry and concern were painted across her face. She was visibly shaken, considering the fact that she’d never watched water polo before.

“I was so scared something terrible had happened to you when that ball slammed against your head and you went under. I almost started crying, but you came up.”

“Hey, it’s ok. It happens. It’ll hurt for a little bit, but then everything will be fine. Don’t worry.” I assured her.

She didn’t look convinced, but didn’t want to say anymore. For a first time spectator, it must have been information and sensory overload. And I could understand why. Even from a player’s perspective, water polo was probably the most brutally violent sport, pitting man against man in a test of strength, endurance and pain tolerance.

“At least I didn’t get hit by a ball thrown by a pro” I joked, “then I’d be really dead.”

“Don’t say that!” she admonished. “It still looked really painful.”

With a weak grin, I said, “At least they didn’t score.”

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

I left school in such high spirits that I almost forgot the most important thing. I had forgotten all about Jess and nearly left her behind. Turning around, I went back for her; only to see her running toward me with a frantic look on her face.

“Hey! Where you going? Hold on!”

Whoops. Was it that brief plunge into the recesses of insanity or did I lose my mind somewhere between the black hands of time?

Standing there, basking in the warm afternoon sun, I pictured myself holding her hand. We would walk to practice and talk about our friends, families and the familiar goings-on around school, as I would taste her sweet laughter that filled the atmosphere. Those thoughts materialized into a half-smile, half-grin that was known to cross my face. Most would have called it a smirk, and it was apt, for it was often seen creeping across the edges of my mouth when I found something amusing.

“What’re you smiling about?” as she caught up to me.

“Nothing,” I drawled.

“Yeah right. Every time you smirk like that, you’re usually laughing at someone else’s expense.”

My smirk, as she called it, grew wider. “Come on, let’s go or I’ll be late.”

Rearranging the various things in her arms, she moved to follow. Seeing how she struggled with her bags, I grabbed what looked like a canvas satchel and swung it over my shoulder without breaking stride.

“Alright. Your slow, waddling butt owes me one,” I grumbled jokingly.

As we walked, we talked almost like how I had imagined it, only I wasn’t holding her hand. Before long, we arrived at the pool. Hurrying inside, I saw some of the guys on deck, although most of the others were already in the water. Showing her to a spot where she would be comfortable, I grabbed my things to go change. I wasn’t quite late but was slightly lagging behind the others.

“Stop messing around with your girlfriend, and get into the water!” Coach bellowed.

Almost on cue, one of the guys started heckling me, “He’s whooped! His girlfriend brought him to practice!” Everyone decided to turn in unison, like a polished synchronized swim team, and laugh at my obvious discomfort. I heard Coach’s ominous voice yelling,”Did I tell you guys to stop swimming?” and I silently chuckled. I turned and gave the guys the finger, while I trotted off to change

Coming out of the locker room, I headed to the edge of the pool. I grabbed my goggles and stood near the edge, warming up my shoulders before jumping in. Looking down on the mercury-like glistening surface of the water, I could hear the consistent splashing from the guys swimming before me. With each stroke, bubbles would churn and small waves would lap up against the pool walls. There was a comforting sound in that rhythmic beating of nature against stone.

This was my element; the water. I had grown up with it and not only did it shape steel and stone, but also helped shape my life as well. Without it, I would not have learned to enjoy such sports as swimming, surfing and water polo. But it also helped foster my love and confidence in sports and group cooperation. A team was more than just a sum of its parts; it was a living, breathing machine. Only a close-knit bond of family and friendship, along with hard work would produce a championship team.

While I stood there, gazing at the crystal-clear, over-chlorinated water, I didn’t notice a change that had come over some members of the team. They looked up at me expectantly, waiting for something. Something that I wasn’t quite aware of.

Suddenly I felt a shove from behind. I went flailing into the water, with goggles in one hand and my other arm sticking out at an odd angle due to my stretching exercises. I whipped my head around to see her grinning at me. As I plunged into the water, looking like an awkward Gumby figurine, I yelled out,”You’re so dead, Jess!”

All you could hear was her maniacal laughter filling the air.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

“Sure, I’ll go. Public library?” I questioned.

“Yep,” she said cheerily.

“Well, it’s off to the library we go. But, I need to be at practice for a few hours, then I can meet you there.”

She looked at me, smiled her heart-melting smile and shook her head. “No, it’s ok. I’ll come with you and watch. Then we can go to the library afterward.”

For a momentary instant, my world came to a jarring halt. What did she say? Come with me? To hang out while I practiced? I wasn’t afraid of the prospect, but that was not something I had expected coming into this conversation. She actually seemed like she wanted to go, although I had no idea what she’d be doing for a few hours.

That moment seemed to last forever, as I swallowed my tongue, and all coherent thought vacated my mind. It felt as if I was struck a lightning because I had lost all fine motor control and my speech was impaired, coupled with this incessant buzzing inside of my head yelling at me to pull myself together.

“Oh, okay!” was the overly loud and hesitant answer that popped from my mouth. I prayed that I didn’t ruin it by waiting too long to answer. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice the moment where I turned into a babbling idiot, standing beside a babbling brook.

The rest of the day went fairly smooth, even though I wandered the halls like an aimless soul, seeking direction from the signs that I was given, but yet still lost. As I went about my daily activities, there were many moments where I would blank out and forget what I was doing. I was so engaged in my own thoughts that I would not respond to outside stimuli. It didn’t matter if you called my name or even smacked me around; I’d probably respond like an overstuffed sloth after a long lunch break.

I eventually made it through the day without any serious injury to myself or others. When the last bell rang, I was out the door and onto the next step in my master plan. What the hell am I talking about? I had no idea what I was doing and what I was about to get into.

But surely, only time could tell.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

“Hey, Jess!” I called out.

She turned, saw me and waved. “Hurry up, slowpoke!” she sang.

As I jogged toward her, my warm breath left small tendrils of steam trailing behind me. The winds and rains from the night before left the ground damp and littered with the red and gold leaves of autumn. The morning chill wasn’t mind-numbing due to the overnight rains, but it was still cold in the early AM. Then again, that mind-numbing feeling could have been my own nerves.

Pulling my stomach out of my shoes, I hurried to catch up to the group that seemed to huddle around her happy and boisterous form like moths to a flame. There was a quality that she possessed that made her so well loved.

Simply because I wasn’t careful, I almost bowled her over in my haste to join the group already there. “Whoops, so sorry,” I spluttered, when I regained my balance. It wasn’t exactly my fault for I had slid on a few wet leaves as I came to a halt. Looking down at her, she glared at me playfully, balled up her fist and punched me.

“Oof,” I grunted, pretending to be in pain. She grinned and curled her arm up to show off how strong she was. It was a little joke that we shared, with its origins going back over 2 years to the days when we first met.

At the beginnings of our friendship, I had teased her about how small she was and always needed help with pushing, carrying or lifting things. That was until the day she was carrying a heavy book and ran into me, hitting me just right, knocking some of the wind out of me. It was an accident, but she attributed it to the fact that she was a pint-sized powerhouse.

“Klutz,” she scolded, then hugged me around the waist tightly, as I hugged her, covering her entire head with my body and arms. The way we were positioned, looked like I was leaning on some kind of post, with legs.

“Hey, it’s kind of warm in here. My personal heater. This is cool,” her muffled voice called out.

“Yeah, that’s great, huh? I didn’t shower this morning. I was running late,” I said with a mischievous grin.

“Ahhhhh,” she cried, as she struggled to pull herself away from my embrace.

I finally let go and she backed up scowling at me fiercely, as a chorus of laughter filled the air, much to our friends’ delight. She stood there, carefully sniffing her clothes to see if I had somehow rubbed off on her.

“I showered this morning, pipsqueak. I just wanted to see what you’d do if I told you that I didn’t,” I grinned.

Looking at me suspiciously, she made a fist and said, “Watch it!” Satisfied, she rejoined our circle of friends and our conversations continued.

In that early morning semi-darkness right before the world awakens, I saw before me a girl with such inner and outer radiance that it filled my heart with giddy joy. Here was a girl that you could talk to, have fun with and wasn’t too dainty or prissy. She wasn’t afraid of speaking her own mind and would give as much as she got.

“Want to come to the library after school with me today?”

Her words cut into my thoughts like a hot knife through butter, severing my nerves and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Here was an opportunity for me to do what I had set out to do, but I also had practice after school. I stood there for a long minute and figured that this might be one of the few chances I’ll ever get to spend one-on-one time with her, since she was constantly the center of a hub of friends.

Oh hell, practice was practice. I could always practice another day, although my coach would probably kill me for ditching practice a couple of days before a pretty important game. But I also knew that I needed to be at practice, if we were to win that game. Damn, decisions.

For a long moment I was torn. Then I chose.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.