South Africa
Part 99

There was a helluva fire on Table Mountain on Wednesday. We were all watching the choppers dropping huge buckets of water on the hot spots. Awesome sight. But by Thursday, the fire was under control, with just some smoke drifting around.

Meantime, Kyle had been telling me how much he was enjoying the swimming. He was even talking about getting a permanent membership at the health club where he knew a few of the guys from school. "Prob is you've gotta book time 'cause the pool is always so damn busy."

"Why don't you chat to the coach about using the school pool? Maybe you could give him a hand with some of the younger guys."

"What are you grinning at?"

"Nothing."

At training, Kyle swam like a dude possessed... up and down the pool like a fucking fish. He was mostly doing freestyle laps, but he also did a couple of 100 meter butterflies. Fast, but I still didn't think he could beat the guys in our senior squad. Bummer. As for me, I was also churning up the water, and I was pretty pleased with my performances.

Just when I was feeling chuffed about the whole thing, Kyle started chewing my ear about school.

"Hey, what's this I hear about your grades?"

"They're cool."

"Don't talk shit to me. We're bros, right?"

"OK, they're not so cool."

"How not so cool?"

"Very not so cool."

"They're gonna drop you from cricket and swimming."

"Yeah, right. I'm like the best junior in the squad and my cricket's ace."

"Are you listening to me? They gonna drop you from sport if your grades don't improve."

"They said that to my folks so my folks could crap all over me. But, hey," I shrugged, "it's cool...I can still surf."

"And eventually drop outa school 'cause there'll be nothing to keep you there. And your folks will probably stop your surfing as well. That's not the point, though."

"So what's the fucking point, then?"

"I'm gonna clout you. You're not listening to me."

"You're sounding like my old man. Maybe that's why."

"Want me to help you with your studying and homework?"

"I'm a dunce, Kyle. I don't understand the shit."

"Yeah... keep that up and you'll start believing it as well. It's called a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"What's that?"

"When you start believing everything you think, and what people say about you."

After supper, I waltzed into Kyle's room with my homework. "Know anything about geography?"

"It's my fav subject."

"Cool."

How I wished my teachers at school were more like Kyle! He had a way of making geography interesting. He was pointing out the great surf spots around the world. Then he told me how climates affect surf. It was a pretty cool lesson, and I got right into it. Hey! I was actually enjoying it!

The rest of the week flew. In no time, it was Saturday morning, and the day of the Swim Gala. I dressed in my school track pants and a t, then hopped the fence to make sure Kyle was getting ready. Yeah, right. The lazy shit was still in the fucking shower.

"Move your ass, Kyle. I'm supposed to help put stuff out for the judges and shit."

"So go ahead. So long."

"No fucking way. Then you might not come."

"Yeah, right. My name's not Fucknut. Oops! Sorry, Wingnut."

"You pissed off with me?"

"Nope... just nervous."

"You too, huh?"

"Why? Are you nervous?"

"Yeah... 'cause of you swimming today."

We arrived at the school pretty early, but some of the juniors were already there, busy cleaning -- not that there was much cleaning to do -- and placing clothing on the judges' tables. I helped set the lane markers, while Kyle helped set up the blocks at the deep end of the pool. I was standing near the coach when he asked Kyle if he was ready for the competition.

"About as ready as I'll ever be, coach."

"Well, just do your best. Don't expect a helluva lot against some of the top boys, though."

"I'm just here to enjoy the vibe, coach. It's cool to be back at school."

"Wish everyone thought like you do."

Then fuckwit arrived with one of the other seniors, and walked over to chat with Kyle. Fuckwit was his usual loud, egotistical self, always looking around to see who was watching him. I was surprised to see my bro actually smiling and being friendly. "I'm sorry, Kyle," fuckwit laughed, "but you're definitely gonna see the back of my Speedos today."

"Yeah, well... hey, you guys are in training, but I'm not gonna roll over and play dead."

"Might as well," fuckwit grinned as he patted Kyle's back before moving on. "Might as well."

I was fucking fuming! "How the fuck can you be so friendly with him?" I demanded.

"Hey, he's done nothing to me."

"He's a prick."

Pretty soon, the school was crowded with parents, friends, teachers, and competitors. The meet started at 9am with all the juniors racing against each other in various events. How did I go? You wanna guess? I won all the races I swam in, even the 100 meter butterfly, which was the hardest race of all. But I managed to stay just ahead of all the other guys, who were all pretty good. Each time I exited the pool after a race, I couldn't help beaming at Kyle and my folks... especially after the butterfuly 'cause Kyle knew how fucking difficult it was.

Following the junior races, it was time for the old boys to compete against the school seniors. A few of the old boys, such as Darren, were seniors when Kyle was still a junior. So they had to be like nineteen or twenty or something. Ross, Kevin and another guy were the only old boys from Kyle's class.

'Cause of the number of competitors, they had to swim heats. I shook my head in disgust when Kyle got knocked outa the 200 freestyle. Fucking hell! Today was gonna be a fucking disaster for Kyle. I just knew it. And to make it worse, fuckwit came over to Kyle, grinned, and slapped his back. What a jerk.

I was sitting on the stand, but I could hear what fuckwit was saying. "Hard luck, Kyle. Guess you might as well be here just for the fun of it." Then Kyle came over and sat next to me.

"I can't believe you're outa the first race already!"

"Yeah, well... the guys are good, and Ross is still in."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Hey, shut the fuck up."

Kyle did manage to make two of the finals, though... the 100 meter freestyle, and the 100 meter butterfly. But it wasn't happening. In the final of the freestyle, Ross and fuckwit were the first to turn at the 50 meter mark. Kyle was swimming like a stone. At the finish, fuckwit had beaten Ross by a full length. And Kyle? Sixth. I didn't say anything when he sat next to me, though. My whole mission that day was to see fuckwit's ass kicked, and it just wasn't happening. Not even Ross could catch the asshole.

When the guys stood on the blocks for the 100 meter butterfly, Kyle and fuckwit were in adjacent lanes. The fly was Kyle's best stroke, but there was no way Kyle had a snowflake's chance in hell. It would've taken a fucking miracle. I remembered what the coach had said to Kyle when we first started training... that Kyle would have to make up three seconds. Yeah, right. I didn't even wanna watch the damn race, but I did.

At the 50 meter turn, after the guys had surfaced, I was surprised to see Kyle's head in line with fuckwit's Speedos, but it was only a matter of time before fuckwit would pull away. Hello? I didn't know where or how Kyle found the strength, but he began to gain on fuckwit. When they were head to head, I stood and started to scream my lungs out. "Go, Kyle! Go, Kyle!" With every second, Kyle inched forward through the water a little more, then a little more, until he touched the wall a good two seconds in front of fuckwit.

The place erupted. The whole crowd went totally ballistic. And, surprise, surprise, I was yelling louder than anybody.

Fuckwit got outa the pool, then went to his buddy, and the two of them started arguing about some shit. Kyle was beaming from ear to ear like I'd never seen before. Woohoo! He was instantly surrounded by Ross, Kevin and Darren, who were all over my bro like a rash. Totally fucking coolio!

When the excitement had subsided a little, Kyle walked over to fuckwit and offered his hand. "You were right, dude," Kyle grinned. "I am here for the fun of it. You enjoying it as much as I am?"

"Don't be a smartass, Kyle. One race is all it was."

"That's all it needed to be."

"You guys wanna take us on in the 200 relay?"

"Are you pissed off about something?"

"You scared?"

"Lemme talk to Ross and check out whether or not the guys are scared."

I watched Kyle talk to Ross, then Ross went into action. He wasn't the previous year's team captain for nothing. He chose himself, Kyle, Darren, and another guy from Darren's year as the contenders. It must've been like a highlight for the crowd 'cause you could feel the tension and excitement in the air as the swimmers lined up on the blocks for the first lap of the relay.

Darren was first to swim, and touched the wall a few seconds behind the schoolie. Then his buddy made up the distance, and touched the wall at the same time as the second schoolie. The tension was mounting. The whole crowd was jumping up and down, and screaming. Then it was Kyle against fuckwit's friend. Freestyle wasn't Kyle's best stroke, so he lost a little time even though he was swimming his guts out. But that was more than compensated by Ross's swim against fuckwit. Ross must've been saving something extra 'cause he creamed fuckwit, and not by just a few seconds... he creamed him solid. Outasight!

Everyone went totally beserk... well, almost everyone. All the juniors were crowded around Kyle and his buds, including me. It was soooo fucking cool to see fuckwit beaten! Mission accomplished! Yes!

Kyle's folks were also going ballistic. They'd thought that the one race the old boys couldn't possibly win was the relay. How wrong they were, and how glad they were to be wrong! Woohoo!

Trust Kyle to put in his fucking penny's worth, though. He walked up to fuckwit and asked him if he was still having fun.

"So you think you're a big fucking deal now, Kyle? You wanna take it out here, or in the gym. Huh?" Then fuckwit shoved Kyle, and walked away. Kyle was seething big time, but Ross put a cautionary hand on my bro's shoulder.

"If you follow him, Kyle, I'm gonna have to kill you."

I couldn't resist piping up and having my say. "Go, Kyle! Let him taste a knuckle sandwich. He shoved you! Go get him!"

"Shut up, grunt," Ross scolded. "You've still gotta stay at school with that guy."

"He's right, Wingnut. No point in aggravating the situation... even though I'd love to knock his fucking block off. Anyway, maybe fuckwit won't give you juniors such a shit time anymore."

"Fuckwit? Yeah, right. That'll be the day."

"Hey, you won all your races, and I did OK. What more do you want?"

"Yeah. You were really ace today, Kyle. Soooo damn cool!"

"But you always knew I would be. Right?"

"Sure... kinda."

Copyright 2001 All rights reserved. mrbstories


 

 Wingnut Part 100