Cam
Liam, no surprise, wasn’t happy. “Don’t talk to me, ‘FAID.’”
“You okay?” he asked Teagan.
She shrugged like, Whatever. “What’s a ‘FAID’?”
“Financial aid. I’m a scholarship kid.” He tipped his head toward the rest of the crew who were gathering at the eight-seater they were taking out for time trials. “They love to remind me of it.”
She scrunched up her face. “That’s not okay.”
He shrugged. He was getting a good education and a shot at making some of his dreams come true. He could take the ribbing. “It is what it is.”
Coach Hayden gave the megaphone a quick blast that meant butts on seats, hands on oars. And, in Cam’s case, hitting the conditions of his scholarship. “Gotta go. You sure you’re cool?”
She gave a pile of goose poop a shove with her broom and shot him a grin. “Never better.”
Suffice to say, the Easton Eagles hadn’t soared to new heights.
It was the first set of time trials they’d done since last year and it showed.
No teamwork. No dream work.
Even from out here on the lake, Cam could tell Coach Hayden was about to blow a gasket. A few disastrous runs in, he barely needed his megaphone. Beside him, his periodic assistant coach, Lana, was keeping time even though it was obvious forward motion wasn’t their forte today.
Normally, Cam just kept his head down, oars in motion, trying to match whatever pace Josh was setting.
It was like trying to keep time with an octopus. Eight oars rowing to the beats of eight different drummers. Or, in Crabcatcher’s case, one oar, two different beats.
The crew had numbered positions that ran in reverse from the front where Liam, their coxswain or “cox,” was perched. Eight was the first position, Crabby at the back was in the one seat. Counterintuitive, but there you were.
It was Liam’s job to steer, keep them safe, and strategize. He was supposed to call the pace, synchronize the rowers, and turn their collective strengths into forward motion, all the while motivating them to do better. Multitasking was not his forte.
Josh, in the “eight seat”—aka “stroke”—ignored Liam, as usual, and set whatever pace he deemed appropriate.
The stroke was meant to be the team’s best rower. A combo of consistency, technical excellence, tactical skills, and confidence. Josh had a lot of confidence.
Cam checked the thought. Josh was fine. Good, even.
But the team had never been mixed up, had a chance to try out other seats.
Coach probably didn’t have a choice seeing as Josh’s dad was one of Easton’s famed legacy rowers who, if rumor had it, regularly made it clear to Principal Cabrera where his money would or would not be going if his son wasn’t sitting at the front of the boat.
After him was Ryder. Josh’s cousin. The second-best rower. Again, Cam had thoughts, but kept life easier for himself by staying quiet.
Then Cam. The rowers behind him were the boat’s powerhouses. Baloo, Quaid, and Perry. Behind them? The bow pair—the technique guys. Noah and Crabcatcher.
Catching crabs was a rowing term and pretty much the worst thing you could do on the water.
It happened when a rower miscalculated the stroke and their oar got stuck in the water.
It disrupted the flow of the boat and usually sent your oar flying, meaning game over.
No matter how hard he tried (and he did try) Crabby caught a few every practice.
Coach had clearly had enough of watching them kill run after run, so called them in to get some energy drinks and have a “talk.”
Everyone was in a bad mood as they jogged up to the boathouse and were taking it out on each other. Liam laying into Crabby, Josh laying into Liam, Quaid telling him to stuff it, Ryder and Noah getting into it about electrolytes, and Baloo trying to make peace. The usual.
Cam was too embarrassed to check what Teagan made of them. Apparently, according to the gossipmongers, she’d been a hotshot single sculler back in LA.
If she wasn’t laughing her ass off, she was probably booking a one-way ticket West. So much for having a fellow townie here at Easton. If you didn’t count Coach. He couldn’t even say it had been good while it lasted. It, whatever “it” was, hadn’t even had a chance to begin.