They didn't know it when they met, but Newton Tinder, Biff Malachite, Merry Marsterson, and Bronson Treble were destined to become household names.
The four boys arrived at Woodbury Forest School, a private boarding school for young men in north of Charlottesville, Virginia in September of 2016. All of them had been recruited by the school because of their lifelong love of swimming, and their chances at bringing home the Gold at the upcoming Olympics. The swim team at Woodbury School was a force to be reckoned with in the past and Newt, Biff, Merry, and Bronson were determined to continue that tradition.
It was five in the morning, the birds had just begun to sing and the sun was not yet up, but all four made their way to the pool. It seemed a strange coincidence that they all arrived within minutes of one another, but it was a habit for all of them to practice in the early morning before classes.
At first the boys all eyed one another, sizing up the competition, and acknowledging one another with silent head nods. They lined up along the edges of the pool, stretching and swinging their arms to warm up. One by one they lined up on the starting blocks and by silent agreement dove in and swam the first lap.
Each boy swam hard, first one taking a slight lead over the group and then another. They hit the wall and flipped heading back. Bronson who touched the wall a second before the others, turned and began a lap in breast stroke. The other boys followed suit.
By the end of the hour, they had completed countless laps in all swimming styles, and had assessed each other's strengths and weaknesses. Biff was best at the breaststroke, Merry excelled at at the butterfly, Newton was the front crawl guru, but Bronson edged them all out in every stroke.
They dove into the pool strangers, but they climbed out friends. The boys slapped one another on the shoulders, and smiled.
"Damn, man, but you can swim," Biff cuffed Bronson on the shoulder again with a smile which Bronson accepted with a sheepish grin.
"You ain't no Noodler, yourself," Bronson shrugged. "Y'all know what you're doing."
"Maybe you could show me how to do that flip turn you do for the backstroke sometime?" Merry asked hopefully. He was smaller than the other three, but had a puppy like demeanor.
"Sure, man, anytime," Bronson smiled at Merry.
Newton, who was quieter than the rest, simply smiled and laughed with the rest of the guys as they headed toward the locker room to get ready for classes.
As the year progressed the boys became fierce competitors and friends. They coached each other, demanding excellence from one another, and all benefited from it. Their coach beamed after all their meets, and even told the press that he didn't really have to do anything, the boys were THAT good.
When the US Olympic trails began in July to select the swim team which would be sent to Rio in August, all eyes were on the handsome four boys from Woodbury Forest School. They handily secured their spots on the team, and their genuine friendship won the hearts of the American people.
Their faces began pooping up on Wheaties boxes and advertisements for the Olympics. Their family and friends were interviewed for promos for the US Olympic team. Bronson was hailed the new Michael Phelps.
"No pressure, right?" Bronson laughed sarcastically when he saw his new nickname.
"You've got a real shot at getting as many medals as he did in London n 2012," Merry reassured him eagerly.
"Down, boy," Bronson laughed. "Let's just go have some fun in the pool and see what happens, okay?"
"Sure thing," Merry said.
The day arrived though that Bronson had both looked forward to and dreaded. His first Olympic race in Rio. He'd long before stopped watching the hype on the television because it made him edgy and anxious to hear the sportscasters talk about him. Some treated him like some swimming God, while others were obviously skeptical about his talent.
He blocked all of that out of his mind and focused only on the race. It was the 100 meter backstroke, basically a walk in the park for him, but he didn't want to be too cocky about it. His competition was stiff, two Swiss swimmers in lanes 3 and 6 had strong reputations, and he was racing Biff too, who had also qualified for the race.
Bronson met Biff's stare from across the room, and flashed back to that first day in the pool at Woodbury School. He nodded and received a return nod, and then Biff turned away.
They jumped in the pool and lined up against the side with their backs to the lane. Bronson adjusted his swim hat and goggles as he tread water in lane 5. Biff was in lane 4 next to him. Theirs eyes met once more. Each set with steely determination.
"Don't be a jerk," Biff said using slang to insinuate that Bronson would swim faster than he would.
"Yeah? Don't you be a dope," Bronson said encouraging Biff to swim faster.
The signal to get ready refocused the boys, and they got into starting position and when the buzzer sounded, they swam.
For Bronson, the race was in slow motion. He aligned his strokes, breathed, and counted to the end of the pool. He smoothly turned, dolphin kicking under water, and headed back toward the other end. He could tell he was leading by the way the water felt behind him, but he didn't look to see where the other swimmers were. He could hear the crowd cheering through the water and his swim cap, but all he was concentrating on was breathing, counting and controlling his strokes.
Bronson tapped the wall and pulled up his goggles. Breathing heavily he turned and Biff was right beside him at the edge and they turned to look back at the time board. Bronson had broken the World Record time with 51.55 seconds, and Biff had tied the original World Record with 51.94. They high-fived and hugged across the lanes and jumped out of the pool. Merry and Newton met them on the edge and swallowed them in a group hug.
Four young men making history at the Olympic Games was the caption for that photo as they all went on to dominate the pool in Rio.
This prompt and the last few were really hard for me. Writer's block has set in, maybe?
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