His father closed his eyes.
“No,” he said. “You weren’t.”
Mercer ordered the team to get dressed and leave.
Mara said nobody was leaving until the facility manager had been called.
Mercer told her she had no authority to override him.
Dylan’s father arrived from the lobby at that moment, drawn by the gathering. Two other parents followed. They had been waiting for practice to end and had heard enough through the open pool doors to understand something was wrong.
The facility manager came down from the front office.
Mara explained the situation once, without embellishment.
Dylan repeated his statement.
Mason repeated his.
Aaron’s father described what he had seen through the observation glass: repeated extra laps, his son singled out while the team watched, the practice ending when Mara removed Aaron from the pool.
Mercer denied directing sabotage.
The manager asked for the whistle and deck keys.
Mercer refused.
“Pending review,” the manager said.
“This is my team.”
“This is our facility.”
For the second time that evening, the whistle went still.
Mercer put it on the desk beside the timing sheets.
He was told not to conduct another practice until the club board reviewed the complaints.
The team was dismissed.
Aaron stood slowly.
His legs shook from the repeated laps.
Mara asked if he needed help.
He shook his head.
Then he changed his mind.
“Can you carry my bag?”
“Of course.”
He hated needing to ask.
He was learning not to confuse that feeling with actually being weak.
