I had broken two bones in three weeks. The first one wasn’t bad: just a finger. The
second was worse: my hand was broken. Neither break was ideal for a swimmer, and it certainly wasn’t a good look for the team. My parents made the decision for me. It was time for a change.

Of course, I didn’t like the idea of moving from a team I had been on for five years. I had
countless friends on the team, and I was happy at practices. But I had broken two bones at swim practice in three weeks. The doctor who had been monitoring my brittle bone disease reminded my parents that this wasn’t normal. Swimming was supposed to be the safe sport, the one I could do without breaking bones. The people in the crowded pool were being too rough with each other, not careful about where they were in the lanes and when they pushed off.

When I showed up for my first practice with a new team, I immediately encountered the
echoing sound of laughter. Dodging bags and flying hands, I carefully placed my swim bag in a
cubby near the door. I delicately placed my broken hand in my brace and flinched as I moved it.

I breathed in and slowly made my way out of the locker room. Every move made me wince, as if it were trying to slow me down. When I began to swim, a pain shot down my hand with every stroke.

A girl moved towards me, looking confused. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be in this
lane?” she asked.

“The coach told me to be here,” I spoke in a low and tight voice.

The girl nodded, still looking confused, and swam away. I tightened my brace and
flinched again.

The brace stayed on throughout the rest of the week, stiff and awkward in the water. I
came in one day to find different lane set ups, which put me in the lane with girls who laughed
too much and made too many inside jokes. I went to the back of the lane and stayed quiet.
Everyone knows, the way to make people like you is to stay far away and not talk. I tried to
figure out how to join the conversation without seeming too desperate. I couldn’t think of a way, so I tightened my brace and continued swimming.

During dryland that day, we needed to be in trios. Two of the fast kids, Nora and Maggie,
asked me to be in their group. We went into the snack shack for the workouts. The set we did
was with different numbers of burpees in different periods of times. Throughout the set Maggie
kept miscounting the burpees, going from 5 to 16 in one count. I laughed for the first time.

Over the course of the half an hour, at every joke I got more comfortable laughing. My hand ended up not hurting as much as it had been, so I was able to do some burpees. However, with the laughter airing around the room, it was hard to get up easily.

I went home happy for the first time. Even so, I was nervous coming back, for fear that all of that would go down the drain. However, throughout the next week, to my surprise, Nora and Maggie greeted me like they greet each other. I looked up at them and
waved. As I went into the locker room, I set my bag down slightly closer to the other kids and
laughed along with them. The pain in my hand began to diminish, and my brace felt less
awkward when I swam.

Once, after a hard set, I asked when we were leaving for the next part of the set.
Everyone gave different answers and the coach spoke over us with clarity that we were, after all, done with the set. We all laughed and listened to our next set. It was smiles from that moment, and every second that passed the knot in my stomach lightened.

Over the months, we made jokes, made fun of each other, supported each other, and cheered at swim meets. There were even more smiles, laughing, and jokes than I had on my other team. I felt that I finally found my place with the kids on this team and wouldn’t lose it.