Making a splash

Then, up and down they go - plunging, dipping, tumbling, twirling, bobbing like buoys, shooting up like champagne corks.

With a flourish, the six swimmers leap out of the water in a uniform porpoise pose, chests forward and arms tight to their sides. Then a deep inhale and they’re under again, whirling in a submerged somersault.

Suddenly, six legs dart up from beneath the surface, pointed and poised. After a whirl they sink, still graceful and arrow-straight.

Don’t expect Esther Williams radiant in Technicolor - or water nymphs with flowery bathing caps cascading into pools like dominoes.

Synchronized swimming isn’t froofy or wimpy, say today’s growing school of mermaids, which include the Selkies of the North Shore (whose more advanced members are mastering the routine above) and the Synchers of Andover, both of which compete nationally.

Instead, “synchro,’’ as they call it, is an agile, acrobatic feat, a fusion of “cheerleading, dancing, and swimming, all at the same time,’’ said 12-year-old Selkie Angelina Spanks of Gloucester, standing poolside at the Sterling YMCA in Beverly in a green cap and matching one-piece, purple polish glossing her toenails.

“And [all that] upside-down,’’ her teammate, Peabody 12-year-old Sophia Gomes added, with a laugh.

But not just upside-down: Right side up, forward, backward, left, right, 45-degree angles, too. And all this while holding in gulps of air for a minute or more - and, most important, keeping in synch, so that everyone moves together like tethered marionettes.

Given all this, synchronized swimming is a sport where nearly everything is counter-intuitive, said Kristna Evans, co-coach of the Selkies, whose roughly 30 members from the North Shore range from age 7 to 18 and are ranked in four groups.

So, no doubt, it can be disorienting at first, Evans said.

“You can’t do synchro as soon as you get in the water,’’ said Kate Whalley, a Topsfield 12-year-old who has been on the team since age 7. But when you finally get it, “You’re supposed to make it look easy.’’

Along the way, the amount of skills learned is “phenomenal,’’ said Evans: There are three or four kinds of leg propulsions, at least 10 sculls, or treading techniques, and a multitude of positions. “You’re always learning, always perfecting,’’ said the coach, who has a background in synchro, speed swimming, and gymnastics.

Ultimately, it’s a complexity that proves alluring. Most Selkies have long been swimmers - but many have been put off by traditional water sports. “I didn’t want to join the swim team,’’ said Marblehead 16-year-old Laura Forte, who has dashed, dived, plunged, and posed in Selkies water routines for six years. “Swimming laps is boring.’’

But synchro is an art, she and others contend: It’s about creating elaborate theatrical displays choreographed to the Beatles, Queen, Michael Jackson, and salsa and Indian music, pumped through underwater speakers.

And, very often, it moves way beyond the recreational. Selkies - who derive their name from a mythical amphibious creature - spend 10 to 12 hours a week honing routines (and practice increases as the national tournament approaches every summer). Meanwhile, team members devote weeks at a time in the summer to study at camps in far-away cities.

As a result, swimmers say, they have passed up numerous school dances and field trips, family vacations - even Jonas Brothers concerts. Others displayed a battering of bruises, battle wounds from knocking into each other underwater when routines aren’t yet mastered.

“People don’t realize how much dedication it takes,’’ said Molly Piper, 16, of Hamilton, standing by the Sterling YMCA pool in a green-and-black-swirl bathing suit.

“I liken this to a varsity sport that you play three seasons a year. It’s intense,’’ said Heather Walker of Wenham, a “synchro mom’’ to 15-year-old Selkie Erin. “It’s not just pool time.’’

Of course, there is a shade of girly whimsy to it. For starters, it’s 99 percent female, according to Taylor Payne, media director of United States Synchronized Swimming, which oversees the sport.

In tournaments, sequins are abundant, and performance swimsuits - with price tags between $75 and $140 - are adorned with flamboyant blue and pink guitars, peace signs, and military regalia.

In the end, routines are “graceful, theatrical, extremely beautiful,’’ said Walker.

Most exposure comes from the Olympics: In fact, after each summer games, the number flocking to join United States Synchronized Swimming increases by about 5 percent, according to Payne.

Currently, 181 club teams, with a total of about 5,000 members - practice aquatic acrobatics across the United States; about a dozen of those are here in New England.

Like Evans, Payne noted the remarkable number of skills gleaned from synchronized swimming. The sport teaches “flexibility, strength, endurance, persistence,’’ and encourages members to develop as a team.

The latter is nearly impossible not to do, Molly Piper said.

“You really have to bond because you’re close with the people in the water, whether you like it or not,’’ she said. In the end, “You know everybody’s deep dark secrets.’’

Motioning around to her team members, huddled on the slippery tile by the pool, she added, “Everyone here has seen each other cry.’’

Not today, though. Within a few minutes, the energetic group was back in the pool, caps tucked down, goggles tight, and nose clips in place.

Seated by the edge of the water in the steamy pool area was their coach, Evans, marking time with heavy clangs of a lead pipe.

With big gasps, down they went.

“1, 2, 3, 4, lift!’’ Evans yelled, striving to be heard over the echoes on the tile walls and the shrieks from the kiddie end of the pool.

At her order, the swimmers flipped, turned, leaped, curled, and turned over in somersaults, sometimes in unison, other times popping out of the waves discordantly, like a whack-a-mole game.

“Check your patterns!’’ Evans said. “Let’s concentrate!’’

A few minutes later, 13-year-old Meghan Huston climbed out, dripping water, eyes bloodshot from chlorine, a dark red line tracing her nose from the tight clip.

“It’s awesome, fun, insanely amazing,’’ the Topsfield teen said as she rubbed her eyes, pink toenails contrasting with her dark green one-piece.

Her ultimate dream? The Olympics. She’d also like to study marine biology, maybe even perform in shows at Sea World.

She laughed. “Water is definitely my thing.’’