Page 9 of Crew Girl

He smiled to himself. Made a mental note to tell the team they were about to get an audience…

TEAGAN

Things had gone from bad to worse to shit.

Goose shit, if you want specifics. Hundreds of rancid globs of it that would take ages to clean off the dock and, more to the point, was giving her waaaay too much thinking time. And she really didn’t want to think about how the last few days had landed her here.

“Hey, dock wench!”

Shudder.

Liam, the lecherous crypto boy Juliet had warned her about, swanned up all kitted out in rowing gear that he wrongly thought made him a prospect. “You missed a spot.”

Flirting 101 tip: Kicking someone when they’re down? Bad call.

She ignored him, Coach Hayden, his assistant coach, and the parade of rowers strutting down to the dock.

Liam leaned in, undeterred. “A little birdie told me you were into crew.”

This was not a state secret.

The whole of Easton Prep knew she was into rowing thanks to an announcement earlier today calling her to Principal Cabrera’s office. If she’d thought news spread fast in her old high school, she’d been wrong. Dial-up versus fiber optics. She’d been too terrified she was going to be expelled to think about the fallout at the time, but Coach Hayden had nailed it. She wished she’d been expelled instead.

She shoved the massive broom away from Liam only for him to follow.

“Hey, dock girl. Why don’t I take you out tonight and you can practice your stroke?”

She pulled a sad clown face. “Aww. I can’t. I have plans to profusely vomit at that idea.”

Was it only yesterday she’d discovered the lakeside boathouse and thought she’d found paradise? Paradise lost, more like. A terrifying thought occurred. Had allowing herself to think things might work out here after all meant she was turning into her mom?

Ella had looked upset when Teagan had told her there wasn’t a girls’ rowing team. And then ruined it by suggesting trying another sport…

Ummm? Sure, Mom. She’d just forget about the ten years of training, races, blood, sweat, and tears she’d poured into her dream of rowing for Stanford and give something else a whirl. Ping-pong, maybe. Or roller derby. Better vibe for blowing off steam.

That’s what had made her sneak down here at dawn. When she’d seen the roll-down door someone hadn’t shut properly, it was like the universe was begging her to get a boat, return to her happy place. Remember the girl she used to be.

Catch, drive, finish, recover.

Catch, drive, finish, recover.

Working with the water, finding her pace, pushing it farther and harder until she was nothing but motion and muscle memory.

But of course the boat shed had CCTV.

It was on Teagan’s shoulders that she’d been stupid enough to believe Easton Prep’s brochure: “We go out of our way to lavish our students with every imaginable resource as we shepherd them toward their higher education.”

If you were a guy, maybe. Or your parents donated the resource.

When Juliet had shown her around yesterday, every building, lab, and lecture hall bore plaques bearing the names of illustrious alumni signposting their legacies. And/or their hopes and dreams for their children.

The Senator Deedee Garner Debate Hall.

The Darling Media Center.

Liam the Letch’s parents funded the Colman Economics Building.

And on it went. When Teagan had jokingly asked Juliet if she felt left out, not having a building with her name on it, they’d rounded a corner and Juliet fanned out her hands. “Ta da! Behold the Morny Fashion and Design Hub.” The entire building, shaped like a Birkin handbag, was covered in crystals. Real ones. Juliet wasn’t smug about it, though. If anything, she looked kind of sad.