Christos Tsiolkas - Barracuda

Danny wanted Coach to say something to him about the one hundred freestyle. They were his, the one hundred freestyle and the two hundred butterfly, they were both his. But Frank didn't say it.

'I'm going to win the one hundred freestyle as well,' Danny exploded. 'I'm going to win them both.'

'Yeah.' Wilco punched the air again. 'Go, Barracuda!'

But Frank was sour. 'What did I say?'

Danny didn't know what he meant.

'You promised me that you would listen to exactly everything I said. Focus on the two hundred butterfly, Kelly. That's your race.'

Danny opened his mouth then took one look at Frank's face and shut it. But he said to himself, I am going to win them both, I'm going to prove to you that I can win them both. He settled back on the sofa. He didn't hear the other boy and the man talking, he was thinking of returning home the hero, thinking of the two medals, and qualifying for the Pan Pacific Games. He was going to prove to the Coach that he could win them both.

They played a few quick rounds of gin rummy, not poker, insisted Coach, I don?t want you getting overexcited?and then he announced that it was time for bed.

?One more game?? implored Danny.

?No. We wake at four-thirty for training and then it is straight to the airport. No. It is time for bed.?

That was when Wilco asked, 'Can I sleep in the front bedroom tonight?'

Frank pointed to Danny. 'Kelly is in the front room and you have the spare room. I will sleep here on the sofa.'

Wilco bit his lip. 'Why does Danny always get the front room? I'm a year older, I'm in Year Twelve. I think I should have it.'

Danny was frantically trying to think of what to say. That he was there first, that it was his room, that it would always be his room, because he deserved it: he was the strongest, the fastest, the best. He tried to form words, but before he could speak.

The two boys stood side by side at the small bathroom sink, brushing their teeth. The room was freezing and it took an age for the tap to run warm. Wilco spat out the toothpaste, then washed his face and behind his ears. He rinsed one more time, spat, then looked at himself in the mirror. 'Mum reckons this haircut makes me look like a hooligan.'

Danny spat into the sink, ran the tap to wash it away. 'I think your mum is really nice.' He didn't know why he said that, except that it was true, Mrs Wilkinson was nice.

Wilco turned and leaned against the sink. His right eyebrow was half-cocked, as if he was sizing Danny up. 'You know, Kelly, that shit we used to say about your mum?' His next words came out in a rush. 'It was just dumb stupid kid shit, you know that, don't you? We all reckon your mum is tops, she's beautiful and really really cool. You know that? It was just dumb shit we were going on with.'

Danny pushed Wilco out of the way to rinse his toothbrush. He didn't want to be reminded of that time, of that lewd, ugly centrefold. It was a shock how the thought of it still scalded him.

He splashed water on his face, turned off the tap. 'Yeah, I know,' he answered.

Wilco surprised Danny again, tapping him on the forehead, not hard, just three soft taps. 'Goodnight, Shorty.'

This time Danny didn't mind the nickname. He knew that Wilco didn't mean any harm by it at all.

But how he wished it could be Martin and Danny, Taylor and Kelly.

On his way to bed he popped his head round the living room door to say goodnight to the Coach. There was a blanket spread on the sofa and he wondered how Frank was going to fit.

'You know, I can sleep here, Coach,' he said. 'It's sweet.'

'No.' The man's voice was firm but then it softened. 'In two days, Danny, you have two heats to swim. You take the bed.'

Coach was right, of course he was. The only thing that mattered was the competition. Not only for Danny, not only for Wilco, but for Coach as well. That was the only thing that mattered.

Danny was freezing in his shorts and t-shirt. He and Wilco were in the back seat of the taxi on the way to the airport. Coach was in front, too big for the cab. But then so too were Wilco and Danny. Wilco's shaved scalp made him look adult, gave strength to his jaw. He was no longer a boy, he was getting to be a man. Danny hoped that his own shaved head made him look older too. He pushed back his shoulders, held his back straight.

Wilco was examining the face of his mobile phone. It was new and he was obsessed with it, tapping the buttons constantly, seemingly astonished by what it could do. But then, with a glance at the Coach who was staring resolutely at the road ahead, Wilco pocketed the gadget and leaned closer to Danny. 'Mate,' he whispered, 'my dad says he can get you an upgrade to business class with me. Want me to organise it?'

It was no longer Martin and Danny. It was now Wilco and Danny.

The driver had the radio on, the car was speeding down the freeway, Danny was sure that Coach couldn't hear them. This would be his first flight. It would be so cool to fly business class. It would impress Martin, Luke would be so envious. But then he thought of his father, of Demet. They'd find something wrong with Mr Wilkinson's money, something about how he got it or what he did or what he didn't do with it. And what about Coach?

Danny mouthed that question.

Wilco whispered, 'No, I can only get one of you upgraded.'

'Then no, thanks.'

'Suit yourself.' Wilco took out his phone again, he couldn't stop playing with it.

Danny was going to get one, he'd save up and buy one as soon as he could. He wanted a phone like Wilco's, exactly that brand of mobile phone.

When the plane started to slowly move along the tarmac, he got scared. That huge and heavy machine of steel and metal, how would it be able to stay up in the air? The Coach was next to him, and there was a woman doing the crossword on his other side. As always the Coach seemed like a giant, too big for the plane. But it made Danny feel safe. He was glad he hadn't gone up front with Wilco. Next to Coach he was safe.

The plane had been moving sluggishly but it began to pick up speed as it taxied down the runway. There was a moment when the cabin was shaking and gravity was being betrayed, when Danny felt that his whole body was going to be flung forward, and then there was the rush of flight, of leaving earth, of reaching height. There was no fear, that was what was flung off.

His face bright, his eyes gleaming, his eyes wide, Danny turned to Coach and cried out, 'It feels like swimming! It feels exactly like swimming.'

The Coach smiled, a rare moment, and he nodded and said, 'You are right, Danny. It is exactly like swimming.'

Danny wanted to keep on rising, going higher and higher and faster and faster until the roof of the sky met the halo of the sun. He told himself to remember the ferocious joy, the inexplicable rightness, it was exactly like swimming, and take it with him all the way to Brisbane, take the experience into the pool. He had to remember that water was the same substance as sky. He would take that feeling into his swim and he would be flying as much as swimming.

When they landed in Brisbane, they were no longer special. There were competitors from all over the country, from places with names like Esperance and Geraldton, Maroochydore and Tuggeranong. They were met by a harried young woman wearing a grey tracksuit, a Swimming Australia nametag stating her name was Ellen. She carried a clipboard under her arm, and on greeting them, she immediately ticked off their names and gave rushed instructions on how to get to the bus. Coach explained that the boys still needed to get their bags, and for some reason that annoyed her. She ripped out a printed sheet and handed it to the Coach. 'Make sure you follow the registration instructions to the letter,' she announced, and then abruptly turned and was gone. Danny was incensed. He'd never heard anyone talk to the Coach like that before.