Every Last Word Read Online Free PDF Page B

of photos during the county championship meet and sent them to me. Last week, I showed them to Sue. She spent twenty minutes sliding her fingertip across the screen of my phone,
carefully taking in each photo. Then she asked me to pick my three favorites, print them out, and bring them with me today.
    “These are great,” she says, taking her time to examine each one. “Tell me, why did you choose these three?”
    “I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “I guess because I look happy.”
    Her expression tells me that wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “What word comes to mind when you see this?” she asks, holding one of the pictures up in front of me.
“One word.”
    Cassidy is squeezing me hard; her nose is all scrunched up and her mouth is open, like she’s screaming. Dad took it right after I beat her time by a tenth of a second, breaking her record
in girls’ butterfly. I was afraid she’d be upset, but she wasn’t. “Friendship.”
    She holds the next one up. My stomach feels all light and fluttery when I see Brandon resting one hand on my shoulder and pointing at the first-place medal around my neck with the other. He kept
high-fiving me. And hugging me. All day.
    Sue wouldn’t approve of the word “love,” even though it’s the first one that pops into my mind, so I fix my gaze on the medal, thinking about the way he made me push
myself all summer, making me believe I could be faster, stronger. “Inspiration.”
    I feel my face heat up and I’m relieved when Sue moves on to the next picture and says, “I was really hoping you’d print this one.”
    Dad took it with a long lens and you can see every detail in my face. I’m standing on the block in my stance, seconds away from diving in, and even though my goggles are covering my eyes,
you can see them clearly. I stare at the picture for a long time, trying to think of a single word to describe what I like so much about it. I look strong. Determined. Like a girl who speaks her
mind, not someone who cowers in the dark every time she gets her feelings hurt.
    “Confidence,” I finally say.
    Sue’s nod is proud and purposeful, and I can tell my word was spot-on.
    “Here’s what I’d like you to do. Bring these to school tomorrow and tape them on the inside of your locker door.” She taps the last one with her perfectly manicured
fingernail. “Put this one right at eye level. Look at it off and on all day to remind you of your goal this year. Which is?” she prompts.
    “I’m going to make swimming a priority, so I can get a scholarship and go to the college of my choice. Even if it’s far away.”
    The “far away” part makes me start hyperventilating. I feel nauseous when I think about moving away from here, leaving my mom, leaving Sue. But I force myself to stare at the
picture, locking in on that strong, determined expression.
    A swim scholarship. Competing at a college level. A chance to reinvent myself.
    This girl looks like someone who could do all those things.
    “And don’t forget,” Sue says. “This isn’t Summer Sam, who shows up in June and disappears when school starts. This is
you
.”
    “Is it?” I ask, staring at the photo. It was only two weeks ago, but I already feel like a completely different person.
    Sue rests her elbows on her knees, forcing me to meet her eyes. “Yes, it is. And she’s in there all year long. I promise. You just have to find a way to pull her out.”

O n Thursday morning after first bell, I linger, taking my time at my locker. I keep peering toward the end of the row, looking for Caroline,
but she hasn’t shown up. I haven’t seen her once since we sat together in the theater on Monday. Finally, I give up and race to class.
    The last few days have been brutal, with Caroline’s words running through my head in an endless loop. I can’t imagine what she wants to show me today or how it could possibly change
my whole life. And if she’s
right
about me? What does that even