Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Stronger and Braver - Grace
Around midmorning, I finally return to Phi Mu Phi, but all I want to do is hang out with Wyatt. Although I’ll see him tonight, I want to spend all day with him.
Wyatt stops in front of the mansion and puts his Jeep into park. He reaches for my hand, and I look at him. “Here we are,” I say with a sigh.
He quirks a brow. “And you’re still in my shirt, Gracie girl.”
I smile brightly at him. I’ve swiped one of his “OCU Hockey” shirts to wear, with no intentions to return it to him. “I am.”
“Good. I like seeing you in my things.” His expression grows serious. “Are you sure you have to go?”
“Wy. Yes. I have to do some studying and work on a paper.”
“Okay. But I’m only letting you go because I’m picking you up in a few hours. I’ll message you before I leave.”
“Okay.” I lean forward and give him a kiss before I get out of the car.
As I begin to walk up the zigzagging sidewalk.
I don’t hear his Jeep pull away. I stop and turn around, only to see he’s still watching me.
Of course he’s the type of guy to make sure you get in okay, even in daylight.
I grin and make my way to the front of the house, use my key card, and once the door opens, I turn around and see he’s finally pulling away from the curb.
Warmth floods me as I make my way up the staircase.
Wyatt. Loves. Me. HE LOVES ME! I want to run up the stairs and scream it at the top of my lungs.
Do a tumbling pass down the corridor. Spending all my waking hours daydreaming about last night, from the magical words he said to having sex for the first time.
And second. And third …
I blush as I reach the top of the stairs. Okay, yes, we had very quiet sex this morning and it was amazing. Wyatt asked where I obtained all my mad sex skills and I laughed when I told him fashion magazines. He barked with laughter—and told me to keep reading those columns.
Elise Martin is coming down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry. I really need to do that before Sunday night, when all the washers and dryers are full.
“Hey!” I say cheerfully as I’m about to pass her, but Elise stops.
“Hey, Grace, can I ask you something?” she asks, a concerned look flickering across her face.
“Of course.”
“My boyfriend is on the diving team,” she begins. I nod. Gregory is a junior and a platform diver for OCU. “He heard a lot of the aquatic sports are about to be shut down for next year. Have you heard anything on your end? About diving or artistic swimming?”
I feel the smile slip off my face, and my stomach begins to form a hard, frozen knot. “Where did he hear it? Because yes, I’ve heard some sports are on the table to be cut.” I force the words I don’t want to say to move past my lips.
“His best friend’s dad is a big booster for the football team, and he said there have been conversations behind closed doors about trimming unprofitable sports. Like the aquatic programs.”
Emotions begin to bubble up within me. No, we’re not football or hockey or basketball.
We don’t bring in obscene revenue streams. But we represent our school with passion and pride.
Some people on these “unneeded” teams go on to represent our country in the Olympics.
That has to matter. Giving us equal opportunities in sports—even if we aren’t financial juggernauts—has to matter.
“This makes me sick,” I say, my voice taking on an angry edge. “So these conversations are happening, and the teams themselves have no part in them? To talk about our programs? Or even see what numbers they’re looking at?”
“I know, Gregory feels the same way,” Elise says.
“And what are you left to do? Transfer if you want to continue to pursue it? Find a new college and team? Gregory is going to be a senior, he won’t do that.
You would have to spend your final two years at a different school if you want to continue artistic swimming. ”
Now I’m hurt and pissed. A bunch of people sitting around a conference room are most likely going to decide the fate of programs that have succeeded in spite of their lack of caring about them.
I think of the rundown state of our spaces.
Then I think of the lavish facilities Wyatt and his teammates have, down to a specialized smoothie room, and the imbalance in our sports.
Do I expect a state-of-the-art swimming center?
Of course not. But I would think there would be some extra money in hockey and football that could be directed to the aquatic sports.
But I can’t leave OCU. Not when I’ve landed a writing position at Cove Style and discovered the fashion-media major. Not when I’m so happy and doing so well here.
And I don’t see why artistic swimming can’t still be a part of my life at OCU.
“Something has to be done,” I say firmly.
“If only something could be done,” Elise says. “But it’s out of our hands.” Then she excuses herself and walks toward the laundry room.
I stand still, her words hitting me. I don’t like them. They are words I would have said at the beginning of the year, too. That this was completely out of my hands. I would have to go along with it and bear the consequences.
But I’ve recently found my voice. First, with Kaitlyn. Then with my mom. Am I brave enough to take on the OCU Athletic Department, too?
I continue toward my room, then I glance across the hall to McCall and Sofia’s room. An idea begins to form in my mind, and I rap on their door. “Hey, it’s Grace,” I call out.
“Coming!” Sofia answers. The she opens the door. “Hey! What’s up?”
“I have something I need to talk to McCall about.”
“I’m here and my services are available!” McCall says cheerfully.
Sofia ushers me inside their room. Unlike the pink theme that Maddie and I went with, Sofia and McCall did their room in shades of blue and white, and it’s very soothing.
A white comforter with navy edging is rumpled up on McCall’s bed, and throw pillows in chambray, navy, and white are scattered on the blue-and-white trellis-patterned throw rug on her side of the room.
Meanwhile, Sofia’s bed is already made with identical bedding, every throw pillow in place.
It looks like they’re having breakfast on the floor in between their beds.
McCall is sipping an iced latte, sitting next to a box of donuts open on the patterned carpet. She smiles and waves.
“Want a donut? We went and grabbed some this morning,” Sofia says, dropping back down on the floor across from McCall and picking up a plate with a half-eaten sprinkle-covered donut on it.
“No, I just had muffins with Wyatt,” I say, dropping down next to them on the carpet.
Sofia eyes me, and her brown eyes dance mischievously. “Really nice outfit you have going on. I like the boots with the shorts and hockey T-shirt.”
I glance down. I’d totally forgotten that I’m in a mash-up of last night’s going-out clothes and Wyatt’s T-shirt. “I just got back from Wyatt’s.”
“Oooh, spent the night,” McCall singsongs. “Were good times had by all?”
I blush, and she shoots Sofia a knowing look.
“I bet yes.” Sofia grins.
I remain silent. What I do with Wyatt is between me and him. I would die right now if he were giving Nolan and Sebastian play-by-play details of how I lost my virginity last night.
Of course, they probably assume we’ve been having sex this entire time we’ve been fake dating, because nobody knows I was a virgin and that we weren’t even a couple.
I ignore all of that and look at McCall.
“I have a big sports story that might be about to break. There are things being said, and if they’re true, it will be national news about OCU sports.
I’m giving you this information first, because I not only trust you with it, but this could be a huge story for you.
If you don’t want it, I completely understand, but I trust you would know who should cover it instead. ”
McCall furrows her delicate dark brows. “Go on.”
I take a breath. I can feel the anger getting the best of me and I need to be calm when I tell this to her.
“Do you need me to leave?” Sofia asks.
I blink. “What? No.”
“Okay.”
I pause for a moment. “Let’s get Maddie in here so I don’t have to tell the story twice.”
Sofia pops up. “I’ll get her. Besides, it will be good for her. She refused to get donuts this morning, and we told her we were going to Gwen’s.”
Gwen’s Donuts in La Jolla is our favorite place to get donuts, and Maddie always gets the blueberry one with maple icing.
I glance over at McCall as Sofia leaves the room. “Did you see her last night?” I ask. “Nolan walked her home.”
“No. Sofia and I sent her some messages asking if she wanted to hang out with us, but she said she was in for the night.”
I know Maddie better than anyone else does. “She won’t go out for a while,” I say. “But for once, I’m glad Kaitlyn is militant on participation or Maddie would hide.”
The door clicks, and Sofia returns with Maddie, who has swollen eyes and a blotchy face, as if she’s been crying this morning.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asks, sitting next to me.
McCall stands up, grabs a box of tissues, and hands them to her. “It’s a preemptive strike. I don’t think that douchebag should keep you from eating a blueberry pancake donut.” McCall points to the donut in the box.
Maddie looks at it. “I guess I should eat something.”
“Well, I doubt you ate last night because that food at Phi Sigma was bad,” Sofia says, retrieving another plate from their stash and putting the donut on it. She hands it to Maddie.
McCall shifts her attention back to me. “Talk. What’s up?”
“Okay. This has to stay between us.” I look around at the girls. “Except for McCall. If you take this story, you’ll need to do digging.”
All eyes are on me now. “I’ve heard from two connected people that the OCU athletic department is secretly discussing axing a bunch of unprofitable sports. Including all aquatic programs.”
“What?” McCall asks, her green eyes popping wide.
“Shit,” Sofia says.
“That can’t be right!” Maddie cries. “Our aquatic programs are good!”
“Elle heard it from her boyfriend, who knows people inside the athletic department. And someone else heard it from a friend who has a big booster parent.”
“If they’re talking about cutting unprofitable programs, you can bet women’s sports are going to be hit hard,” McCall says.
“The thing is, nobody is talking to us,” I say, pointing my finger at my chest, which, ironically, lands over the word “hockey.” “Has anyone told us how much our programs are costing the athletic department? Have we been given a chance to reach out and fundraise? To see what we need to do to keep our programs running? No. They’re talking behind closed doors, leaving us completely out of the discussion. ”
My voice is shaking with betrayal and anger.
“You all know what artistic swimming means to me. I love to compete. I love the water, I love flying through the air. If I can’t do that here next year, it’s devastating.
But we should have a chance to at least save our program, shouldn’t we?
I mean, we already have missing ceiling tiles in our locker room, while hockey has professional facilities.
I know they bring in more revenue, but we have done so well with so little. How can they do this to us?”
“This is big,” McCall says, her voice determined. “There could be lawsuit angles here if female programs are disproportionately cut.”
I hadn’t thought of that.
“The main thing is—they haven’t announced it. An appropriate news article in the campus paper, along with a story on OCU TV, could kill it.” McCall looks directly at me. “Are you willing to be a part of the story?”
A few weeks ago, I would have run from this. Just cried in despair while trying to convince myself that writing novels was my best career option, not brave enough to step into the public spotlight.
But I’m not that girl anymore. The same girl who walked through the doors of Phi Mu Phi for her sophomore year has grown into someone stronger and braver.
More than I ever thought possible.
“Yes, one hundred percent,” I say. “Are you willing to dig into it? Will you write it?”
“I’m going to bring in Jax Baker, because he’s a great investigative reporter, and fuck yes, we’re going to dig into it.
I’m starting now. I’m going to send some texts and get permission to follow it.
I might be able to start digging into numbers today.
I promise you, if the athletic department thinks they can just wipe these programs away with all of us being okay with it, they are out of their minds.
And Gracie? Thank you for trusting me with this,” McCall says. “I won’t let you down.”
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “I know you won’t.”
“I won’t. I promise. And one other thing.”
“Anything.”
“Get me pictures of your locker room on Monday. It’s time the students see the difference in how student-athletes are treated at OCU. It’s going to shock them. And it’s just the beginning of how you’re going to change the outcome of this story.”