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Guilty

It’s midnight and I’m alone in the kitchen eating a cold potato scallop. Coach O’Call would say something like That’s not what I expect from a scholarship girl! because I have to be up for squad training in five hours, I’m not supposed to go near potato scallops, and—oh, yeah—it’s my fifth.

I know the consequences, they circle me as I chew, chanting like bullies. Indigestion! Weight gain! Poor performance in the pool! But as I suck the grease and salt off my fingertips, a rumour starts to spread that I’m going for lucky potato scallop number six.

Rumour confirmed.

Bite taken.

I promise this is the last one.

Coach O’Call’s laminated food list gives me the evil eye from the fridge. There’s a Yes! column of foods that should make up most of my diet and a No! column that sounds like heaven. Potato scallops aren’t even on it. They must be worse than bad. The snack of outcasts and criminals.

Cat Feeney, you are charged with the crime of not taking your swimming scholarship seriously. How do you plead?

I stare out into an imaginary courtroom.

Coach O’Call and Dad would take turns being the prosecuting lawyers: Isn’t it true that you bingewatched Netflix instead of getting an early night before your training session?

My sister Maisy would race to the witness box to give evidence against me: Cat doesn’t deserve a scholarship. She only pretends to eat salad!

Mum’s away a lot for work so she’d FaceTime to let the court know she’s on my side: I blame the potato scallops! FREE CAT FEENEY!

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