Before It Comes

Chapter 1

Five months later...

The sun had risen an hour ago and I already felt as though I'd lived an entire day. The water surrounding our boat shimmered under the bright rays of light, making me squint. I focused on the oar in my hands and held it steady as I twisted and raised the handle, breaking the calm of the river with its blade.

"Stop rushing the slide!" our coxswain yelled. Sitting in the middle of the boat of eight, I could feel the moment when we lost control of our pace. I tried to slow my movements and refine my technique again, but my body was forced forwards by our sloppy momentum.

I stared at the middle of Terri Kemp's back, doing my best to match each of my movements with hers. On the shore, the two of us barely spoke, but she was the port to my starboard. In the boat, I was almost always paired to sit behind her as seats five and six. And it was for a reason.

We were a powerhouse pair. She had the control and, when I was on my game, I had the precision to match her. Unfortunately, I hadn't been on my game. In the two weeks since practice had started, I was pretty sure I was about to give our Cox a stress ulcer.

Izzy made up for every inch she lacked in size with unadulterated spite. If she had it her way, she would snatch all eight oars out of our hands and row the boat for us. Instead, she was stuck yelling directions.

"Power ten!" Izzy yelled through her mic. "Let's finish strong!"

She counted us down, and I felt the burn in my legs as I pushed myself as hard as I possibly could. After finishing the set, she made us do it two more times.

Sadistic troll.

I could feel the sweat building up along the line of my baseball cap by the time our coach called for us to dock. Relief rushed through me that it was over. I had made it through another practice.

Our boat made it to the dock before the others and I knew it was in no small part due to Izzy's willingness to use the bow of our boat as a harpoon if anyone got in her way. Last year, she'd almost gotten herself kicked off the team for doing just that. It was only her talent that saved her. Any boat she was on was almost guaranteed a medal.

Once we were out of the water and returned our boat to the boathouse, I finally let myself take a deep breath, easing into stretches even as Izzy lectured us. A few of my teammates grumbled, knowing her speech was the preamble before our coach's, but I let myself zone out.

Coach Sadler never once looked up from her clipboard until every member of our team was sitting on the concrete floor of the boathouse by her feet. Her shoulder-length brown hair blew in the breeze coming through the open doorway, showing flashes of her gold earrings that were probably the same price as some cars. When she finally looked up at us my stomach sank.

It wasn't that I caught her harsh, dark gaze of scrutiny. Rather, it was that everyone else did.

She purposely skimmed right past me. I smiled through it, even if my throat did tighten a little at the gesture. I knew better than anyone else that I was screwing up.

Leaning more deeply into my stretches, I nodded along with her lecture about how we had all let ourselves get out of shape over the summer. Rubbing my thumb over the callouses on the inside of my hand, I felt where a new, tender blister had formed and thought about popping it to get it to callous over faster. My hands had been a mess for over three years, but the tougher the skin the better.

"School starts tomorrow, are you all ready for it?" she asked, her British accent sounding more clipped due to her annoyance.

The room replied with a resounding, "Yes, Coach."