Betty stretched her bare arms overhead. “If you swing by here to change before breakfast, I’ll join you.”
“You sure you don’t want to practice now?”
“No, thanks. I’ll go later.”
“See you in a bit.” Helen stood and left, gingerly easing her weight onto each foot as she climbed the stairs to where the track was located. After a few laps around the track, the pain had vanished, and she loosened, waving hello to the familiar faces who, like her, enjoyed the early morning beauty of their surroundings.
Since New York City had faded into the distance, Helen had found herself mesmerized by the wide expanse of the Atlantic. The intensity of its blue. The way light sparkled off its surface. The power of the wind. The play of clouds overhead. Unlike the never-ending stretches of fields at home, the ocean was always changing. When Helen stood on deck, she became transfixed by its power and energy. Here, she had a keen sense of being one small piece within something larger, something alive. The way the sea moved and the wind blew, she felt as though she were surrounded by an unpredictable wild creature, and it thrilled her.
Unfortunately, the thrill had worn off by the time she sat in the dining hall having breakfast with Betty. The pain had returned, sharper and more insistent than before.
“What’s wrong?” Betty asked, looking at Helen’s plate of untouched scrambled eggs and toast.
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure? Do you miss home?”
“No, not at all. It’s just that my legs hurt.”
“Shin splints. You need to rest, take it easy. That’s what I’m doing. Stop training several times a day. The track is awful hard. My joints start hurting even more when I just think about it. It would absolutely be killing my legs and back if I were to run more than a few laps on it. If you want to socialize, sit in the chairs. You don’t have to always be running.”
“I’m not like you. I always feel like a beached whale when I drape myself along those deck chairs. You know me, I need action.”
“Do I need to point out that action seems to be giving you shin splints? What you need is rest.” As she spoke, Betty’s gaze trailed one of the male swimmers as he passed their table.
Helen watched Betty’s distraction with a pang of disappointment that quickly turned to annoyance. Why did she allow herself to moon over Betty? It was clear that her friend viewed her merely as a younger sister. “Rest? Fine, but please don’t say anything to anyone. The last thing I want is for Dee to catch wind of this.”
Harriet Bland, a sprinter in the relay pool, sat down across from them with only a single hard-boiled egg and a slice of honeydew melon on her plate. “What don’t you want Dee to catch wind of?”
Helen sighed. Leave it to Harriet to appear exactly when she wasn’t wanted. “Nothing.”
“Oh,” Harriet said, disappointed. She laid her napkin across her lap. “I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well, and I’d have to find a new table. I’m doing my best to stay in peak shape.”
“Then you might want to actually eat something substantial.” Helen took a big bite of her scrambled eggs.
Harriet rolled her eyes and tapped her hard-boiled egg against her plate to crack its shell while Betty flagged a server down for more coffee. After Helen’s mug was refilled, she took a big gulp, savoring how the warmth spread through her chest. A sense of resolution spread through her as well. She’d go find her jacket and then maybe sit on the deck in a lounge chair and write a letter home. Her legs would feel better in no time.
Helen left the dining room. As she climbed the stairs, she turned at the sound of heels clacking rapidly behind her and found Dee. “Good morning, Helen. I was hoping to see you. Do you have a moment for a word in private?”
Helen willed her face to not give anything away. Could Dee tell that Helen’s legs hurt? “Um, sure. Now?”
“Yes, come with me to my cabin?”
Dread filled Helen. They said nothing as she followed Dee to her room. Was Dee about to scold her for not saying anything about her legs? Were shin splints considered a serious injury? They entered Dee’s small cabin and Helen took a seat at the edge of her bunk, swallowing and looking around for a distraction, anything to keep from meeting Dee’s gaze.
“It’s come to my attention that you may be keeping something from me. As a member of this team, your loyalty is to your country, and since I’m your coach, I expect complete honesty from you.”
Dee leaned over toward her, making it impossible for Helen to look anywhere other than at her coach’s face. “Have you received any information about a team boycott of the Games?”
Helen straightened. A team boycott? Her mind raced back to the letters she and her roommates had discovered in their hotel room in New York and then a second boycott manifesto that had been waiting for Helen and Betty in their cabin. Shortly after boarding, Helen had discovered it and read excerpts aloud to Betty:
Hundreds of Germans are political prisoners and are confined to concentration camps for two or three years because they are pacifists or against National Socialism.
“So people are being imprisoned because they believe in peace?” Betty had asked.
Helen continued to read before pausing to look up at Betty. “Apparently this man, Carl Mierendorf, was imprisoned three years ago for supporting peaceful relations with France, and no one knows what’s happened to him. It says we should refuse to set foot in the stadium until Hitler releases these prisoners, and we should organize and coordinate our
