Coach's face looked like a big, grouchy, thundercloud. "When you say this happen? Tuesday?"

Francie and Chester nodded.

Coach glowered at them and muttered something in Hungarian.

"Why you didn't tell me yesterday? Already two days passed."

"We weren't sure we wanted to pursue it," Chester explained. "We were thinking we might just let it go, sir." He looked at Francie. "But then Francie was saying that if we didn't say anything, if we didn't do anything, they might feel like they got away with it and do something--worse--next time."

Coach just nodded. "You too young and nice to know how stupid and mean some people can be." He patted them on their shoulders. "Okay, I take care of this. Brainiac, you go sit down. Francie Baby, you get you suit on."

Kids were starting to appear on the pool deck, dressed for practice.

"We do something different today," Coach told the group in a raised voice when everyone had assembled. "Francie, you in lane one all alone, work on IMs, get send-offs from Braniac, okay?"

Francie nodded and pulled her goggles down, looking to Chester for her send-off.

"The rest of you, here's what we doing. Something happened here on Tuesday that can't happen, ever, that very bad and mean, that opposite of what it means to be on a team. Braniac over there doesn't swim, but he's part of our team, and you all know that." Coach's voice got very deep, and very loud.

"We doing jump out sprints with burpees today."

The team groaned. Jump out sprints involved swimming from one end of the pool to the other as fast as possible, then jumping out, doing burpees, which were modified pushups, then more sprints with burpees at the other end. They basically made a person feel like they wanted to die after a few minutes.

"We do them for half hour, then everyone give me a piece of paper, folded in half. If you know who was involved in what happen to Braniac, you write that person name on paper. If you don't know, you don't write anything and just give me blank folded up paper, okay?"

He glared at the team. "Everyone understand? Questions?"

Someone raised a hand. "If we don't know anything, can we just not hand you a piece of paper? I don't know what you're talking about."

"NO!" Coach thundered. "Everyone hand me paper. This not about finding tell-tattler or however you say in this language. Everyone give me paper. If you don't know, you write nothing. If you know, you write name. And don't write wrong name on purpose. If you do something so stupid, I find out, kick you off team. Clear?"

Everyone nodded.

"If I get no name, we do another half hour, then try again. Does everyone understand?" His voice boomed out over the pool. "This very serious."

The team was silent, but everyone nodded again.

"Good. Leaving on the up."

Francie was swimming, and didn't know what was going on, but Chester heard the coach's words, and was grateful. He just hoped there would be no fall out headed his way.

The swimmers started out looking pretty energetic, but within five minutes, the fatigue was beginning to show. Their arms were wobbling as they struggled to get out of the water, and their burpees were getting slower and slower.

By the ten minute mark, many couldn't get out of the water on their first try, and their burpees were looking pretty sloppy.

And by the end, their sprints looked nothing like sprints, with many hanging on the lane lines to catch their breath before even attempting to get out of the pool.

"One more thing." Coach admonished before they headed in to towel off and grab pens, pencils and paper. "If I hear any of you trying to get revenge at Braniac or Francie over this, you off the team. None of this their fault. This the fault of the idiot whoever did it. Now go!"

Francie happened to come into the wall as the rest of the team was heading to their lockers, and looked over at Chester questioningly, chest heaving for breath.

"I'll explain later," he said. He told her her time, and sent her off on her next set.

Everyone came filing out of their locker rooms holding papers of varying sizes, folded in half. They dropped them into the box that Coach had next to them as they walked past on their way back to their lanes. Coach quickly looked at each one before dropping it in the waste basket, occasionally writing something down in his notebook.

"Okay," he said. "We finished with the jump outs, lucky for you." He looked down at his notebook. "Nathan Ashton, Hunter Arujo, Kylie Anderson, you all stay after practice and see me. Now, everyone get back to their regular lanes. Someone stop Francie and send her to her regular lane, please."

Nathan, Hunter and Kylie all shot each other looks as everyone moved to where they usually swam. Allegra Murphy caught Francie as she swam into the wall, tapping her on the head and sending her back to lane nine, where she usually swam.

"What happened?" Francie asked as she ducked under the lane lines, but there wasn't time for Allegra to tell her, even quickly.

They went on with their regular practice, though it was very subdued; there was none of the regular laughing or goofing around that went on, either with each other or with the coach. Everyone was very quiet and serious, especially the three whom the coach had called out to remain.

Francie was in a tizzy by the time practice was over. She couldn't stand not knowing things, and whatever was going on, it was very serious, she could tell. She went into the locker room feeling like her head would explode if someone didn't tell her what was going on, pronto.

She knew, however, that Chester would tell her, and asking one of the girls on the team would involve some sort of quid pro quo that would mean telling her side of the story, so she kept her questions to herself. The locker room was buzzing with questions and gossip, though no one really knew anything about anything. She gathered the entire team had been punished in some sort of information gathering mission by coach, and he'd gotten the names of the three who'd remained on the deck at the end of practice.

Francie wasn't surprised by who they were, for all were friends of Tony's. Nathan had only recently been moved to the late practice, also.

She hurried out to meet Chester, who was waiting in front of the school. They usually walked to Francie's house together, where he would call his car to take him home.

He looked incredibly handsome to her today, in a light gray polo that matched his eyes and showed off his very nice upper arms.

"Hey, you," he said, leaning in to kiss her. "You missed a heck of a show while you were doing your IMs today," he added.

"I guess so," Francie responded, leaning in to smell his hair for a moment. "So? Tell me all about it, please."

He explained what the coach had done, and how those three names must have surfaced.

"Great, I'm sure we're going to be even more popular than we are now," Francie said dourly.

"Well, Coach did tell them not to come after us," Chester reminded her.

"Right, because that always works."

Chester turned to her in the warm, New York evening. "Am I really worth all this to you? I mean, really?"

Francie stared at him. "What do you mean? Of course you are!" She nudged him gently. "Why? Am I not worth it to you?"

Chester made a face at her. "Of course you're worth it. But this isn't happening because you're dating me, though, is it?"

"It's happening because we're dating each other," Francie admonished. They stopped at a corner and waited for a light to change. "It's happening because people are stupid and think they know better than we do whom we should or shouldn't care about." She shrugged. "It's none of their business, is it?"

Chester looked down at her and smiled, making her feel all tingly in her tummy as the butterflies got zooming around. "No, it really isn't. I think you're amazing, Francie Santangelo. The way you swim, and play the guitar and piano, and help your sisters and brother with their homework? Everything about just--delights me." He moved his crutches apart and forward so he could lean forward and kiss her, his lips soft and warm.

Francie could hear the sounds of the traffic, and the sound of a boat horn out in the river. She could hear a robin warming up for his evening concert nearby as well, and she could smell the warm asphalt of the street as Chester kissed her on the corner of this busy New York street. His tongue sought hers, gently tasting her as he made a noise of contentment, leaning in a little bit further.

"You almost make me forget where we are," he murmured when they finally came apart.

Francie shook her head. "Not me," she answered. "I'm going to remember this spot for the rest of my life." She leaned in and kissed him again. "Come on, let's get going before we get run over.

"Okay," he said softly, nodding as he looked into her eyes.

They continued walking, as close together as his crutches would allow. They reached Francie's building much sooner than either of them wanted. Mr. Bobby tipped his hat at them and smiled.

"You want to sit on the bench and talk for a few minutes?" Chester suggested. "I haven't called the car yet."

So they sat in the soft dusk, holding hands. Francie leaned on his shoulder, and Chester rubbed his cheek on her curly hair, inhaling the fragrance from time to time.

"I used to wonder if I was gay," Francie said.

"What?" Chester laughed as he responded.

Francie nodded as she sat up to look in his eyes. "I never felt the zing, you know? Clio felt it when she was twelve, when a boy gave her a bracelet. She actually felt it before, when they'd hold hands during dodgeball and stuff, but I never felt it at all, and it used to make me sad."

"Poor Francie," Chester commiserated, patting her shoulder. "Poor, zingless Francie."

"Then one day you brushed against me, and I felt it!"

"Really? I was your first zing?" Chester grinned. "I'll be damned."

"Yeah, it was pretty great."

"You wanna know something?"

"What?"

Chester leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"You were mine, too."

"No!" Francie shivered as she smiled.

Chester nodded. "I think we were in English class, and you smiled at me or something, and I felt it. And I thought, 'Man, I'd like to do her.'"

Francie stared at him. "Chester Wozniak! 'I'd like to do her'?!" She slapped his shoulder. "Please tell me you didn't think something so base and crass!"

Chester shrugged helplessly. "What do you want? I'm a guy, we're pretty base and crass most of the time!" He began to laugh.

Francie crossed her arms and pouted.

"No, Francie, Francie, I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Chester entreated. "Honest, you smiled at me, and I felt a shiver go down my spine, that's all that happened, for real. I remember because I don't feel a lot go down my spine, because of, you know, my legs?"

Francie turned to look at him. "Really?"

"Really truly."

"Okay."

"You should've seen the look on your face, though," Chester chuckled.

Francie slapped at his shoulder again. "Not funny, Mr. Wozniak."

Just then Mr. Bobby called over. "Your mom called down, Miss Francie, she said your dinner's getting cold. She also said your young man is invited."

"Thanks, Mr. Bobby," Francie answered.

"Why didn't she just text me?" she wondered aloud.

"She probably thought the other would be less invasive?" Chester offered. He texted for his car.

"So I'll see you at school tomorrow, beautiful girl," Chester said, rising and slipping his crutches on his arms. He leaned in to kiss her.

"Don't remind me about school, I'm trying to forget it exists," Francie responded. "See you tomorrow."