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Chapter 6
Practice is at quarter to four. Rory sits through a boring, three-hour bio lecture, then grabs a bite to eat in the student union before his lab. After that, he dozes through an English lit class, counting down the minutes until he can hit the pool again. If he could take only twelve credits of swimming every semester, he’d ace his degree. He’ll be hating himself later, he knows, when he’s struggling to cobble together a paper on Wuthering Heights using Wikipedia, Cliff Notes, and the movie he’ll stream online, but for now every fiber of his being only wants back in the water. He feels like a merman stranded on land, or a fish flopping around outside its bowl, drowning in the air that gives everyone else life. He needs to swim. It’s who he is. When his lit class is finally over, he stops
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