Sometimes winning is everything. Champion swimmer Aerin Keane is ready to give up her dreams of college swimming and a shot at the Olympics. As she starts senior year in her third high school, Aerin's determined to leave her family troubles behind and be like all the other girls at Two Rivers. She's got a new image and a new attitude. She doesn’t want to win anymore. She's swimming for fun, no longer the freak who wins every race, every title, only to find herself alone. But when her desire to be just one of the girls collides with her desire to be the best Two Rivers has ever seen, will Aerin sacrifice her new friendships to break a longstanding school record that comes with a $50,000 scholarship?
During swim season you can find Marianne
Sciucco, a dedicated Swim Mom for ten years, at one of many Skyline Conference
swim meets cheering for her daughter and her team, the Mount Saint Mary College
Knights.Marianne is not a nurse who writes but a writer who happens to be a nurse. A lover of words and books, she dreamed of becoming an author when she grew up but became a nurse to avoid poverty. She later brought her two passions together and writes about the intricate lives of people struggling with health and family issues.
Her debut novel "Blue Hydrangeas," an Alzheimer’s love story, is a Kindle bestseller, IndieReader Approved, a BookWorks featured book, and a Library Journal Self-e Selection. She also has two short stories available on Kindle, "Ino's Love" and "Collection.”
A native Bostonian, Marianne lives in New York’s Hudson Valley, and when not writing works as a campus nurse at a community college.
Connect with the Author here:
Excerpt #2
Minutes later, I stood on the pool deck with
an odd blend of girls vying to earn a place on the team. I spotted the usual
huddle of newbies benched together at the far end of the bleachers, glancing at
each other nervously and at the seasoned swimmers with something like awe. On
the opposite end were the members of last year's championship team, all wearing
team T-shirts and chatting like old pals, ignoring everyone else. In the middle
was a bunch who looked like they wanted to go back to bed, the ones whose
parents pushed them into a sport and who chose swimming because we did it
indoors and it looked easy. Most of them wouldn't make it.
I found a place to stand against the wall and
blocked out the curious glances shot my way, using the time before practice
began to check out my surroundings. Aunt Mags had said the natatorium, built
just a few years ago, was state-of-the-art.
Banners hung from the rafters and on clean
white walls, touting the team's success, and an enormous leaderboard listed all
of their champions and their accomplishments.
A wall of windows on the farthest side and a
ceiling loaded with skylights filled the room with light.
The six-lane pool had blue and white flags
and lane lines, and the Trailblazers logo – a torch - was laid out in blue
tiles on the bottom.
The floor tiles were a mosaic of white and
three shades of blue.
The air was thick with the smell of chlorine.
I checked my expression, not wanting anyone
to catch me gaping over the finest natatorium of any team I'd joined. The
thought of swimming in it, of calling it "home" for the next few
months caused a thrill of excitement in my belly. Around me, the other girls
talked and laughed, none of them seeming to appreciate the beauty of the pool
and the privilege to use it.
"Good morning girls." A man's voice
cut through the chatter, and each girl sat up at attention. "Let's get
started."
The voice belonged to an older man, with
bushy white hair and bifocals, dressed in the school's colors: navy blue shorts
and a white polo shirt. Coach Steven Dudash. I hadn't met him yet – he was out
of the building when my father and I visited the high school – but Maggie and
her husband, Pat, gave him high praise. He’d coached the Two Rivers boys and
girls swim teams for more than twenty years, and they were both winning teams.
He pulled a chair behind him, positioned it
in front of the bleachers, sat down, and organized the pile of paperwork on his
clipboard. “Good morning,” he said again, studying us over the rim of his
bifocals. “I'm happy to see last year’s team back for another year. And welcome
to those of you here for the first time. I’m glad you decided to give us a
try.”
He took a swig from an extra tall cup of
coffee before continuing. “For those of you new to the team, meet Coach
Denise.” He gestured toward the young woman who accompanied him. “She's my
daughter. I coached her for six years when she swam for Two Rivers and got her
name on the leaderboard."
I checked out the leaderboard and saw she
held the record in the 200 IM and the 100 breaststroke. Good creds.
“This is her second year as assistant
coach," he said. "She did a terrific job last year so I invited her
back.”
The young blonde smiled at him and the
swimmers cheered.
"Yay Coach D!" a few seniors
shouted.
“It’s great to be back,” she said. “Ready to
win another championship?”
The shouts and applause were deafening.
"During the next two weeks,” Coach said
when the noise died down, “you'll all be working hard, doing drills both in the
pool and in the weight room, four hours a day, six days a week. During the
season, you'll be practicing from after school until five or six every weekday,
and four hours on Saturday. Sunday is a resting day. And, of course, you will
compete in swim meets at least twice a week. So, if you don't think you can
make it through the first two weeks, you might as well leave now." He
paused, waiting for anyone to opt out before we even got started. No one moved.
"Okay," he continued. "Most of
you know that Two Rivers won the Division Championship last year, and the two
years before. I plan to win again. When we do, and I say when, not if, we will
be the first team in the division to ever win four consecutive division
titles.”
Last year’s team broke out in wild applause
and cheers. Coach waited for the outburst to die down before he continued.
“I need performers,” he said, “swimmers who
aren't afraid to push themselves, to try new things and discover where they
best support the team. So, in practice you're all going to swim every stroke, you're
all going to swim distance, and you're all going to swim sprints. Each person
will do all she can to defend our title."
Silence filled the pool deck as the girls
looked each other over, wondering where each would fit in.
"That's the good news." He paused
for effect. No worries. He had everyone's riveted attention. "But I've got
some bad news. For years, the school board has been supportive of our team, and
we've reciprocated by working as serious athletes and turning in winning
records. Most years, the team can support as many as thirty-eight swimmers.
This year, due to a budget crisis in our school district, our funds have been
cut, and I can only put twenty-eight girls on the team."
Raised eyebrows and shocked inhalations
followed this bit of news. I counted bodies: thirty-six.
"Yeah, eight of you will be cut, either
at the end of this week or the end of next. Anyone want to leave now?"
Again, no one moved.
Coach Dudash smiled. "I like your level
of commitment. Let's see if you can keep it under pressure."
He spent the next half hour reviewing team
policies and the season’s schedule. I'd heard such talks before from other
coaches and tuned him out while I studied the other girls, trying to figure out
what their positions might be.
Most of them focused on Coach’s every word,
but last year's champs ignored him and whispered among themselves. One of them,
a lanky girl with sun-bleached hair and a killer tan, looked over the group of
wannabes and held up her fingers one to five, scoring them, I guess, on whether
or not they had a chance. Her friends snickered, trying to act as if they were
paying attention to Coach instead of fooling around.
At last, the lanky girl's frosty blue eyes
rested on me, and I met her gaze straight on. We stared at each other for a few
seconds before she looked away first, then held up three fingers. It seemed she
was ambivalent. I could go either way.
I was ambivalent too. I joined this crowd as
a walk-on, someone with no history with the team and questionable ability. In
their eyes, I was no better than a wannabe who needed to prove herself to gain
a spot on the team and the other girls' respect.
I showed up because it's what I did at the
start of every school year. Swimming was my only sport, and I was good at it.
Really good. Still, I almost skipped tryouts today. The truth was, I didn't
have the energy to join a new team, in a new school, for the third time. If
anyone found out I’d won championship titles in club and varsity last year
they'd expect great things from me, and I didn't want the pressure. Swimming
was no longer the focus of my life. It was my therapy, and I wouldn’t let
anyone mess that up.
The glimmer of challenge in the way the lanky
girl looked at me caused a stirring in my gut, and I shot it down. I didn't come
here to get involved in any personal challenges. I came here to swim, and not
make any waves. My plan was to get through the senior year and go away to
college, away from my troubles, and on to a new life that I could control.
To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our Official Event page
Hi Robyn. Thanks for hosting my blog tour for Swim Season! Marianne
ReplyDelete