Why does the chlorine always smell like disappointment? Verna stands at the edge of the community center pool, her toes curling over the rough, wet tile. The water is a perfect, still turquoise, undisturbed by any splashes. That is the problem. It is too quiet.

Coach Miller clicks his pen. *Click, click, click.* The sound echoes in the empty natatorium, bouncing off the high metal beams. "I’m sorry, Verna. The rule book is clear. The Regional Relay requires four swimmers. You are a team of one."

Verna adjusts her silicone cap, pulling it tight over her ears. "I have until Friday, right? That gives me three days."

"Technically, yes," the Coach says, tapping a large poster on the wall that reads *Golden Fin Awards: Celebrating Rhythm and Spirit*. "But nobody has joined the Sharks since the heater broke last winter. It is freezing in there. You need a miracle."

"I’ll find them," Verna says. She dives in. The cold shock hits her skin, but she welcomes it. She swims a lap, thinking about the Coach's words. *Rhythm and Spirit*. She assumes he means the perfect rhythm of a freestyle stroke, the kind champions have. She needs fast people. She needs serious athletes.

The next morning at school, Verna starts her hunt. Her first target is in the auditorium. Alfonso is center stage, wearing a velvet cape that is far too long for him. He is shouting lines to an empty room, his voice booming. Alfonso loves drama. He is not fast, but he is certainly loud.

"Alfonso!" Verna whispers from the side of the stage.

He pauses mid-monologue, holding a plastic sword high. "Hark! Who goes there?"

"It’s Verna. I have a role for you. It’s the role of a lifetime."

Alfonso hops down from the stage, landing with a thud.