Page 56 of Crew Girl

“I know,” she said. “And I’m grateful for it.” For a thousand other things, too. She’d been made to stretch new muscles. Physical and emotional. Learn new skills. Like playing well with others. Having someone’s back because you knew they’d have yours.

She didn’t have to put herself in Crabby’s shoes to see what he did. They’d believed she would fight for them just as they would fight for her.

“You used us to get what you wanted,” Crabby said.

“I wanted to row for Easton,” she reminded him. “But they don’t have a girls’ team.”

“Why not?”

“Not enough interest. Said they’d only consider it if the boys started winning.”

Crabcatcher’s eyes shot to hers. “We’re at a regatta, aren’t we?”

“Yeah…”

They grinned at each other. She understood what he was saying.

“Maybe we should see what happens if we win the race.”

“Yeah,” she said. The choice she thought she’d already made was no longer clear-cut. “Maybe we should.”

TEAGAN

“Remember, guys,” Teagan said once the team had rowed into the starting lineup, directly behind Westvale. Like they needed reminding the Easton Eagles were the underdogs. She’d figure out a way to make it inspirational.

“Baloo,” she teased, “you’re going to tip the boat if you keep checking out the competition. All of you. Eyes on me. They don’t exist, okay? None of them do. We’ve got staggered starts, remember? The only boat we’re concerned about is ours. It’s just you, me, and six thousand meters. We’ll fly through it.”

“Like an eagle?” Crabcatcher asked.

“Exactly. We’ll keep the turns tight, to save your legs for the final sprint at the finish line.”

Ryder tipped his reflective sunglasses down his nose. “You look nervous, Coxie.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

“It’s a big one for me,” she said.

“Not just you,” said Ryder. “There are scouts onshore. Ones I want to impress. You got this?”

The horn sounded for Westvale to take their place at the starting line, then again to mark the start of their race. It was Easton’s turn next.

“Looks like we’re about to find out.”

“Aaaaand row!”

The second the starter horn sounded, Teagan felt a switch flick inside her. Like her body knew this was what she’d been training for. Why she’d pushed herself so hard at the Iron Crucible and at every practice since. The team was feeling it, too. That magic charge of grit and determination trained into this one race. Win or lose. They’d walk away with their heads held high.

“That’s it, guys! Strong start. Burn those nerves! Then we’ll lock it in at twenty-eight, all right?”

Twenty-eight solid strokes per minute. It was at the high end of the push pace, but she knew they had it in them. They’d have to shift down for turns, negotiate a bridge, and, as importantly, hold on to a reserve of energy for the final, critical sprint that would send their boat soaring across the finish line.

The team was pure focus. Rowing hard. United. Their oars hitting the water as one, propelling them forward with a synchronicity of movement that felt electric. She felt the charge, channeled it into control. Anything beyond a light touch on the rudder would spell disaster. Letting the team down today was out of the question. What happened once they crossed the finish line was out of her control. But this wasn’t.

Four kilometers in they’d aced the turns, nailed the straight runs. Now they were coming up to the bridge. It was a narrow one. Gauging the speed and angle at which they approached was her job. One bad call and it would be game over.

“Port. Pressure! That’s right, guys. Ryder, set us up for the bridge pace. Stay clean. Long.” He gave her a nod. He had this.

“Shit!” Teagan had slightly oversteered. The boat veered in response. They were heading straight for the bridge.