The door to the men’s locker room opened, and Nico stepped out. He’d changed from jeans into American-flag-printed swim trunks, a red visor, and a cobalt-blue fanny pack, and he had an entire armful of bright blue and red ring toys, the kind you throw into the pool and retrieve, looped around his wiry arm from wrist to armpit. On the tan skin of his stomach, he’d painted USA in block letters.
