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“You swim a lot,” she’d said to me one June day the summer after my junior year. She’d been sitting on Doug’s front porch steps, smoking when I’d gotten home from practice. Of course she’d be there when I had forgotten to bring my bag with my towel and change of clothes. I’d dripped for most of the six-block walk.

As always, her hair and clothing had been perfect. I’d been mortified to be seen in my still-wet ratty one-piece. “I’m on a team,” I’d said, covering myself by hugging my arms across my chest.

I’d hurried on, hoping to get in my front door before she talked to me again.

But she’d called after me. “Any good?”

I’d stopped and turned back to her. “Our team? Not really.”

It was a neighborhood league. Our coach was the mother of one of the team members. I’d only been invited because they’d needed another swimmer to have enough members for relay competitions.

Amber had smiled, her glossy lips shining in the afternoon sun. “I bet you’re being too hard on yourself.” She picked up th