"The one hundred meter freestyle will begin in two minutes." A man's voice says through a crackling loudspeaker, making a young boy look up from the pages of his book.

The place is filled with the familiar humidity of chlorine, the loud excitement of children and the calls of proud parents ricocheting off of the walls and the cerulean surface of the pool. The previous race had just ended, and the swimmers are now drying off and checking their times on the score board.

Keegan marks his page and closes the cover of the book, setting it down in the spot that he was previously perched, the bench still warm from his retreating body heat. His muscles are hot from his previous stretching, but he still raises his arms above his head and arches his back anyway, loosening himself up a bit more. A silver cross taps a sliver of bare chest, and he reaches up to unclasp it from around his neck, reminded of the pool rules. He gently coils the chain on top of the cover of the book that he was perusing the pages of.

There is a group of young teenagers sitting around him, but Keegan had ignored their shouts and playful shoving at each other for the past twenty minutes. The other boys learned long ago that Keegan wanted none of their goofing off, and Asher made certain that this was enforced. All he wants to do is swim- he doesn't care about making friends. Most of the team had come to terms with the fact that Keegan wasn't rowdy like they are, though they don't stop trying to befriend him: that is how Asher got over his walls, and they have hopes to do the same. Every one of them looked up to the star swimmer of their team, even if he was stand-offish.

Keegan unzips the green and white jacket that was around his shoulders and tosses it over the bench, glancing to his left to avoid looking to the stands on his other side. The boy next to him holds out a matching swim cap, and Keegan takes it, fitting it snugly over his golden brown curls. He moves the goggles that were hanging around his neck up to his forehead, then pulls the black elastic band taut and releases it, so that it snaps against the back of his skull.

The air is tainted with a contagious anticipation, bleeding into the scent of pool water and sweat. Keegan takes a deep gulp of it, feeling no anxiety at the sounds or the smells. All he focuses on is the water- as long as he didn't look directly at the mass of spectators around him, he would be fine. All he is here to do it swim. Trophies and times don't mean as much to him as they do to his team.

The boy next to Keegan stands up and claps him on the shoulder. "Go get em', Kee!"

He takes a step forward, and glances back at his team captain. The thirteen year old grins back at him with confidence, his dark hair wet from his previous swim, a damp towel around his neck. Keegan had looked up from his book to watch his race, while the other boys had cheered him on. He placed first in the one hundred meter butterfly, with a time of one minute and twenty-eight seconds: almost a personal best. Asher is Keegan's best friend in the group, and he understands the quiet boy better than any of the other members.

Keegan nods to his team and begins to make his way towards the pool, along with two other swimmers from the opposing schools, whom he crosses on their way to the diving blocks.

The one to his right is small for his age, and seems timid about the water, as if this is his first time swimming with such a big audience. Keegan catches his eye as he swallows nervously, pulling his blue and white cap over his short cropped hair. This boy and his team is from Reckle County Middle School, and by the way he looks at Keegan, he's already heard of him. He looks almost afraid as his eyes meet the grey ones of the boy beside him.

"You'll do fine." Keegan says, giving him a once over, voice just loud enough to be heard over the murmuring crowd in the stands. "Worrying only makes it worse." The anxious boy shoots him a grateful smile, but Keegan looks away, eyes skimming across the pool and the second boy to his left.

This boy snickers as he pulls his goggles on over his eyes, having already been checking his competition out. His swim suit and cap are red and black: from the school who's pool the meet is being held. This boy is tall and carries himself with confidence. It appears that he's been swimming for long enough to have forgotten nerves long ago, and is proud to show it. He plans to win this race, and doesn't have to say it. By the way his team calls his name with whoops and hollars, it seems that they expect him to come out on top, too. He looks comfortable in the way he walks, familiar with the water and the expectant gazes on his back. Judging by the physical shape of his body, this boy doesn't do much of anything but condition. He probably has a pool at his home and a rich father who pays for a personal coach for his son's training.

Keegan looks at him from the corner of his eye, but doesn't say anything. He needs no encouragement.

Within a few more steps, the swimmers are at their proper lanes, side by side. As soon as he steps foot onto the diving block, Keegan's team members cheer in unison, "Go, Keegan! Do it for the team!" This is the last heat of the night, and the team with the best overall times will take home a trophy.

The stands are spotted with people from each school, and Keegan scans the crowd to search for a familiar face. His mother is still wearing her work clothes, but she smiles widely despite the dark circles under her eyes. Her left hand is touching the cross that is always around her throat, and she has long brunette hair that is falling out of its elastic band, but it somehow makes her look even more beautiful. Sarah blows a kiss to her son, then waves to him with a grin. Any butterflies that may have been beating inside of his stomach are now gone, as Keegan almost smiles at her, grey eyes soft. He will make her proud.

"Swimmers, take your marks!" The speaker overhead calls. The three boys on the blocks move into position. Keegan shifts his goggles over his eyes, pressing them sealed with his palms, and glances to either side of him to see how his competition is doing.

The anxious boy doesn't have a good form, bending too much at the knees to make for a good dive. He looks like he might throw up, and he is far too tense to begin with. Keegan says nothing to him and shifts his gaze to the lane on his other side.

The cocky boy is already looking at Keegan, eyes glinting with challenge behind his red tinted googles. He siezes him up and sneers before looking away, not deeming him a true threat. Either he hadn't heard Keegan's name before, or he had, and believes himself to be the faster swimmer. That will change when they get their toes wet.

Keegan shrugs and lets his grey eyes rest upon the rippling pool, the sight calming his adrenaline pumping heart. It isn't that he is nervous: Keegan can't remember a time when he was ever afraid of the water. It's the competition that he doesn't like, all of the pressure weighing down on his shoulders, the expectation. Keegan just likes the water, and the relationship that he has with it. He sees it as a team mate, a living thing that demands respect. A breathing body that could very well drag you under, but that can also dance with you if you'll take its hand. He keeps his gaze on the glassy surface until he feels the nerves in his gut unknot and dissapate completely. He made his peace with the water long ago.

A whistle is blown once. Keegan closes his eyes. A second blow. His right foot moves back, hands finding the front of the block, back arching as he lowers himself down. He inhales the calming scent of the chlorine, relishing the familiarity of it on his tongue. A third whistle. Keegan opens his eyes and coils his muscles, leaning back, preparing for the dive. The last mark sounds and the swimmers plunge into the water, bodies submerging beneath the broken surface. A perfect dive.

The nervous boy launched from his block a second too soon, and is disqualified from the competition with a sharp call from the official. He will be allowed to continue his swim, but his time won't be counted due to the false start. He begins to fall behind in the first quarter.

The other boy comes to the surface in time with Keegan, and the two begin their strokes, eating up the water while their legs create a spray of white foam in the race against each other. They are evenly matched.

The crowd is drown out by the water that fills Keegans ears, but as he turns his head for air on his third stroke, he hears his name being called by a rough chorus of high pitched voices. But he doesn't care much about that. He moves his nose back under and slices another opening for his body to glide through, legs pushing him beyond the veil seen by the eye of spectators.

This part of the race becomes all about the swimmer and the water, all about the senses: The way the water feels, the way it whispers to you, the way it helps you forward or slows you down, just you and the waves. Keegan sees his shadow pass over the quarter way mark that is painted to the bottom of the cerulean pool, and spares a glance at the swimmer in the next lane as he goes for another breath of air.

The cocky boy turns his head towards Keegan at the same time and catches his eye for a millisecond. He sees that he is pulling ahead from Keegan, and this fuels his appetite for speed. He begins to waste the majority of his remaining energy trying to get past the competition too early.

Keegan slices at the water some more, kicking hard, but keeps his pace the same. The wall at the end of the fifty meter long pool signals the last leg. The other boy flips and kicks his way off of the tile, launching himself into the second half of the race a body length away from Keegan.

Keegan hits next and coils the muscles in his legs as he pushes away, taking a long, powerful glide into the next part, dolphin kicking into a smooth transition. Now Keegan gives it all he has, no longer needing to pace himself. It takes only two strokes for the quiet young man to catch up to the swimmer in the next lane, and one more sends him past his competition. When he turns his head for a gulp of air, Keegan hears the people in the stands crying out his name, but over all, his team shouts encouragement that surpasses the raving crowd.

The last quarter, and Keegan looks up slightly to spot his location as he takes a breath. He gives one last stroke before he reaches his arm out to touch the starting end of the pool, a half a body length before the boy next to him.

Keegan stands in the chest high water, pulling his cap and goggles off of his head and shaking the water from his hair, breathing hard. His muscles burn, but it is a feeling that he relishes. Tired arms and legs means a good effort and race, whether you're the one taking the trophy home or not, it's something to be proud of.

The boy in the lane next to him touches the wall, then stands with his head hung, chest rising and falling rapidly with the effort of his race. He had given it everything he had, and now mentally scolds himself for wasting his energy so soon. Didn't his coach warn him about that? This infuriating boy next to him made him lose.

Keegan watches him a moment before saying anything. "Nice swimming." He says softly, just loud enough to be heard over the crowd. When he receives no answer, he looks up to the score board in front of them to find his time. One minute and nineteen seconds, a personal best.

"Keegan Church in lane two has just beaten the record for his class at Little Valley Middle School!" The voice from the loud speaker exclaims, causing even more ruckus to erupt from the packed stands.

The boy beside him slaps the water angrily, tearing off his swim cap. Keegan looks at him sidelong, wondering why he is so angry. Is that water dripping from his face, or a tear of disappointment? This is his school, and he probably wanted to be the one to hold the title just given to Keegan, the boy who beat him. The boy who wasn't supposed to beat him.

Keegan's face is neutral as he glances over at the boy, then back at the score board and the name in the second place slot. His name is Michael Bailey. Keegan looks at the boy again briefly, lifting his wet hair from his eyes.

Michael only placed in the second slot with one second behind Keegan, a closer race than usual, and Keegan finds himself interested in the possible competition. He doesn't necessarily care about times or awards, but he does like a serious opponent to put up a healthy fight. Keegan usually places first a whole two body lengths away from every one else at the least, but this boy was close. Michael may even beat Keegan next time. When he was racing against him, Keegan pushed himself to his maximum potential, something that rarely happens, and all that Keegan knows is that he wants to race against him again someday, when they're both even faster.

"Race me again sometime, Michael." Keegan says quietly, face impassive.

The boy looks over at Keegan with shock that slowly turns into determination. He hadn't been crying, but his blue eyes are moist with irritation and not from the chlorine. "I won't lose next time I swim with you." He says, giving a smile that is meant to unsettle his opponent. Instead of reacting, Keegan just looks at Michael, expression unchanging.

"Neither will I."

Michael says nothing more and pulls himself from the pool, walking towards his team with attitude in his step and cap and goggles in hand. He lifts an arm to ruffle his long damp hair into spikes as he nears the other boys, a grin on his face. One team mate, a tall boy with black hair, throws his friend a towel and claps him on the shoulder, congratulating him on his race.

A hand presents itself in front of Keegan, and he looks up to see Asher's grinning face. He takes it, and allows himself to be helped from the pool, water dripping onto the already slippery tile of the floor. The captain is joined by the majority of the team as they file from the bleachers, oblivious to Keegan's sodden state as they swarm him. They laugh and pat him on the back, congratulating him on his swimming.

The captain hands him a towel, green eyes shining. "Keegan, that was amazing!" Asher laughs, an arm around his friend's shoulders. The weight of the taller boy makes Keegan stumble a little, but he regains himself quickly. "You really are unbeatable!" Asher shouts excitedly over the animated crowd.

It's true that Keegan has yet to place second in any race that he's competed in, but he doesn't care about things like that. He just likes to swim.

Keegan looks to the stands to find his mother clapping her hands proudly, placing them over her mouth as she smiles widely. Sarah is always so proud of her son. Keegan gives a half smile at his mom, glad that he made her happy. Even if he didn't love the water as much as he does, he would still swim, if for no reason other than Sarah. She works so hard for her family, and watching Keegan swim so freely makes her chest swell with pride, deeming all of her long weeks worth it.

Keegan glances up as a big trophy is brought over by an official who had been watching the race, and his slight beam disappears, traded for a closed-off expression.

The approaching man has a ball cap on his head, wearing a black t-shirt and matching track pants, with a whistle around his neck. He has a smile on his face, which Keegan finds strange, because a man like that wouldn't typically be pictured as being very happy. The logo on his hat is of a sponsor. When he reaches the team, Keegan turns his face away and places the towel on his head.

"That was an excellent race, young man!" As the official speaks, he presents the gleaming trophy to Keegan, which he shows no interest in, as he rubs his hair dry with the small towel. "I've heard your name floating around, they say that you're the fastest swimmer in the state," As the sponsor continues, he begins to sound more like he is trying to convince the boy. "You have amazing potential, Keegan. Someone in your age group placing a time like that, in a mediocre pool such as this? You should be swimming internationally! Someone would pay a lot of money to sponsor you, kid." By the end of his speaking, some of his enthusiasm has faded as he is ignored.

When Keegan doesn't reach to take the award from the man, Asher glances at his friend knowingly before he takes it with a smile. "Thank you, sir, it's an honor. Unfortunately, Keegan doesn't seem interested in your offer. I'm sorry." Asher knows his friend well enough to be aware of the fact that he has no interest in swimming for anyone, and never plans to. Keegan loves the water, and doesn't want to be tied down by some company or organization. He only swims for Sarah.

"Alright then..." When the sponsor understands that Keegan has no intentions of speaking to him, he turns hesitantly to walk away with a disbelieving shrug. A kid with that much talent would refuse to use it in the spotlight? Who wouldn't want their name known for such an amazing capability?

"If you're looking to sponsor someone, go talk to him." Keegan says softly, surprising his team mates as he addresses the official, stopping him in his tracks. The man turns, brow raised in surprise and looks to Michael, where Keegan nods his head.

Michael is sitting down on a bench, next to the tall boy who had given him the towel that now hangs around his shoulders. He has been watching the team with resentment since he sat, and Keegan had been holding his gaze for several seconds before he mentioned him to the official. When Michael sees the sponsor begin to walk over, he perks up and glances to Keegan, who is now gazing out over the pool as Asher talks to him, holding the trophy with a huge grin.

Michael stands to shake the sponsor's hand as they introduce themselves, and begin to talk about big possibilities of the nearby future. The young swimmer looks behind the man in front of him briefly, trying to understand why Keegan would pass an opportunity like this to him instead of taking it for himself.

A man in an black, expensive looking suit and a shiny red tie walks up next to Michael, placing a hand on his shoulder, redirecting the boy's attention to the conversation. The man introduces himself to the sponsor as the boy's father, and takes the talking and negotiating from there.

Photographers for the school and news paper flock around the winning team with their cameras poised. The ten boys on the team pose with large grins except for Keegan, who is facing away from all of the cameras, face straight. Asher and every boy within reach has one hand on the trophy and the other touching Keegan's shoulders or back, as if to show what the real treasure of their team is.

A/N

Super slow updates. This is just a story idea that I got, so here it is. Let me know what you think!