So... Ethan's relationship with Princess was history, and there wasn't a single soul on the varsity team who didn't know about it.
Their break up was basically everywhere on WhatsApp, Twitter, Snapchat and IG. Pictures of the couple had also resurfaced, some with huge cracks edited in between them. Others labeled Princess as a slut, a gold digger and a slew of horrify names.
Whilst Ethan seemed ok with everything; hanging out with his buddies, partying it up every night and living life to the fullest, Princess had unfortunately fallen into a gunk. After that awkward incident, she had never set foot in the swimming court. She had also missed practice five times since last week, putting her on thin ice.
Today marked her sixth miss. If Coach Sarah found out that she had skipped practice this many times, she would definitely have Princess replaced in the Regionals breaststroke event.
Digging my phone out of my sports bag, I unlocked it and pulled Princess's chat up. The avalanche of WhatsApp messages I'd sent her were still there, delivered but unseen. I heaved out a sigh and exited the chat, opting to call her instead. After a few taps, I brought the phone to my ear.
The number you are calling is currently switched off. Please call back later.
"Aah Princess." I tapped the text message button, adding on to the several unreplied texts.
Me: Princess, c'mon you can't keep skipping practice like this, you'll lose your spot in the regionals! And please turn on your goddamned phone!
"Ok, people!" Coach's deep voice echoed into the locker room from the hallway. "Get your butts out here and let's get this training session started!"
Locking my phone, I pushed it back into my sports bag and the shoved it right into the locker before following the other boys out into the pool.
Coach Sarah stood tall on one of the starting blocks with her usual tight ponytail and incredibly large forehead. Amina came over to hand her a clipboard, then she loudly cleared her throat. "Ok, before we begin, roll call!"
Oh shit!
"Ethan is not here." Coach propped up the board. "He came by to ask for permission to attend some mayory event with his dad. Aside from him, I'm not expecting anyone else to be absent."
My eyes moved towards the court entrance, wishing Princess would magically appear in the doorway. But as the minutes ticked on and no one came by, I began to dread what Coach would do once she discovered that Princess wasn't here.
"Akwasi Appiah."
"Present," I called out and watched Coach put a tick next to my name on her clipboard.
"Nana Kwame Marfo."
"Present."
"Great, that's it for the guys, moving on to the girls!"
"Where in heavens name are you, Princess?" I mumbled under my breath, stealing glances at the entrance from time to time.
"Amina Muhammed."
The assistant captain let out a high-pitched, "Present," from where she sat, glued to Seth's side and giggling at something he said.
"Jasmine Tetteh."
"Present," a feminine voice chirped.
"Princess Asamoah."
Murmurs came as a response.
Coach's eyebrows dipped into a frown. "Where's Princess Asamoah?"
The murmurs grew louder, mixing with a few chuckles.
"She's...she's not here," I voiced out, ignoring the numerous heads I'd attracted and focused only on Coach. She was the one I needed to convince. "Umm...earlier today, she texted me and told me to tell you that she has severe menstrual cramps, so she can't make it to practice."
Coach's eyes narrowed with some strange intensity that had me struggling not to flinch. She can't know it's a lie.
"Why didn't she call me then?" The tall woman quizzed. "She has my number."
"Uhh, it...must've slipped her mind. But no worries, I will tell her to give you a call right after practice." The lie surprisingly rolled off my tongue with ease.
It must've been convincing enough because Coach finally dropped the intense glare and nodded. "Ok, I'll be expecting it. Next is... Bertha Koomson."
"Present."
I subtly heaved out a sigh of relief. That was close.
Yeah but it's not over yet, my subconscious chimed in, now you have to find Princess and force her to call Coach so you can keep the charade up.
"Shit," I whispered, "This is why I hate lies."
Roll call continued on for about fifteen minutes until Coach pushed the clipboard into her armpit, blew her whistle and ordered everyone to take a lap in the pool.
Pulling my swim cap over my head, I joined the shortest queue at lane three and flexed my muscles.
"Well, well, well."
Prompted by the voice, I turned, making eye contact with Amina.
"It's nice to know that people still have Princess' back, even after what she did," she smiled.
"Yeah, because that's what friends do," I deliberately stressed on the word and Amina's smile vanished. "None of us have the right to judge Princess when some people in this team are doing the same thing she did; cheating on their partners."
Her brows dipped low. "What are you saying, Akwasi?"
"Nothing, nothing." I shook my head, suppressing a small grin. "Just thinking out loud."
Amina didn't know it, but thanks to blabber mouth Seth--who usually enjoyed bragging about his sexcapades--I was well aware of everything happening in her relationship. Publicly, Amina was dating a level 400 IT student who, according to Seth, "could not give it to her like he does." So under the covers of night, she would come to Ethan's buddy to have her sexual fantasies fulfilled. At this point, the only difference between she and Princess was that she hadn't been caught cheating...yet.
"Well, since your brain has nothing to do except to think aloud about foolish stuff," Amina sneered, "you should know that if Princess doesn't show up for practice on Friday, I'll tell Coach the truth."
When my face fell, a wide grin found its way onto Amina's. "I'll tell her that Princess has already skipped practice six times and that you lied to cover up for her. Knowing Coach Sarah, this piece of information is enough to have both of you replaced in the Regional line up."
My heart jumped. "What? No! You can't-"
"Ah ah aaa." She wagged a finger in front of me. "Did you forget who I am? I am the assistant team captain of Penfield's Sharks. It's my job to keep an eye out for what's best for the team and right now..." she took a step closer, and even though I was a few feet taller, she still managed to make herself more intimidating with the fire burning in her eyes. "You and Princess aren't good enough for it."
Tossing me one last threatening stare, Amina walked away, swaying her hips to the tunes of my erratic beating heart.
I bit my lip hard. Curse that woman! I had worked my butt off to earn my spot both in this team and in the Regionals. There was no way I was going to allow her to maliciously flush it all down the drain.
"Akwasi!" Nana Kwame called out. "It's your turn."
Reluctantly, I pushed on my goggles, climbed onto the starting block and dived into the pool to begin my laps.
¤¤¤¤¤
6:15pm
I should be at my engineering club meeting by now. Instead, here I was, stomping up the stairs of Nkrumah hall in search of Princess' room.
To be honest, a part of me now harbored regret for telling that lie to cover up for her. But there was also the other half that felt it wasn't necessary. Before our first meet of the semester, Princess had spent a lot of her personal training time helping me get better with my breaststroke. She was also one of the reasons why I made it into Regionals and one of the first people who befriended me on the team. She'd done so much for me and now that she was in a mess, this was my chance to show my appreciation.
"B53," I mumbled as I landed on the designated floor. After practice, I took the liberty to ask for Princess' room number from one of the girls on the team who resided in the same hall as her. She gave me the number, but warned me to be careful, that she almost had her head bitten off by Princess when she went to visit two days after the break up.
"I'm serious, Akwasi. She's gone full cray cray," Akweley cautioned during our walk back to the hall. "Even her roommate moved out to go live with her boyfriend cuz she couldn't stand her incessant crying and junkie lifestyle."
Of course, I found everything she said a bit over the top, but I still braced myself for a stream full of salty tears as I rapped my knuckles on the door of B53.
No response.
I knocked again, and this time metallic clinks filtered past the wood along with a raspy "Goo away!"
Frowning, I pounded a fist against the door several times until I heard shuffling and the door lock clicking.
"Which part of go away did you not understand!" The door soon flew open and I froze, eyes widening to the size of saucers.
Jesus Christ!
*****