twenty nine
I'd always been good at swimming; I didn't like it, but like most other kids I was forced into lessons by my parents, who were convinced for a few brief months I was the next Michael Phelps and put me into lots of competitions. Then I kicked up enough tantrums to stop lessons at 13, but I still went sometimes with Keeley, Cameron and Jordan.
Being pushed into a swimming pool fully clothed was a completely different matter. I'd done fully clothed swimming before, but this was totally unexpected and for a few seconds I bobbed at the bottom of the pool, wondering what the hell just happened. I catch a glimpse of quite a few legs through my blurry vision - I forgot how much chlorinated water sucks - before remembering that I kind of needed oxygen.
I break free from the water, b
