“It feels…extravagant. So many resources for such a small town.”
“Au contraire,” Dean said. “You didn’t know this was a boarding school too? Richies from all over the country send their spawn to live here year-round. International students too.” He pointed to a rambling building behind the admin that resembled a castle. “Behold: Atlas Hall. The most outrageous parties happen there. Lots of music, drugs, sex.” He grinned. “It’s not my scene, but you know how it is.”
I did not, in fact, know how it is. I’d never been to a party, but Dean didn’t need to know that. He was friendly now, but I was certain there was a limit to the amount of weirdness he’d tolerate.
We headed toward the center of the Academy and into the gym complex through a set of double doors. Dean grinned. “Prepare to be amazed.”
Castle Hill Academy’s affluence was obvious, but walking into the gym, I realized it was on a whole other level. My jaw dropped.
Dean laughed. “This fucking school, right?”
The gymnasium was shaped like a hexagon, with signage indicating coaches’ offices off the lower sides, and girls’ and boys’ locker rooms off the middle. In the center of the hexagon, a professional-grade gymnastics floor surrounded by equipment: horizontal and uneven bars, pommel horse, balance beam, rings, vault, and variouspits filled with Styrofoam blocks for tumbling practice. Beyond that, a wall of glass revealed a huge weight room that looked as if it had every piece of exercise equipment known to mankind.
“It gets better,” Dean said and pointed to a passage marked POOLS.
“Pools, plural?”
“Yep. One for racing and one for water polo. Not to mention ice baths, a hot tub, and a sauna. Past the pools, you’ll find the lacrosse field, and beyondthat, the path that will take us to the marina and our own little clubhouse. Just for crew.”
“Holy shit.”
“Holy shit is right. Aren’t we lucky?” Dean chucked me on the arm. “Come on. Let’s introduce you to Coach Daniels.”
Back outside in the brilliant sunshine, we took the walk down to the Academy marina on Narragansett Bay. Tryouts for pairs, fours, and singles would be tomorrow. Today was just for the eights. A bunch of guys were already there, broken into distinct groups: sixteen hopefuls (including me) and four veterans—Tucker Hill among them—who’d likely had been on last year’s team. The veterans talked, laughed, and gave each other shit. The newbies stood loosely clumped and silent. All in all, there were twenty of us competing for first string on the eight-man team.
Dean pointed to a tall, thin man in a windbreaker and visor with a whistle hanging from his neck. “That’s Coach Daniels.”
But there was no time for introductions. The coach, standing with another portlier man, caught sight of Dean and waved him over.
“Yearwood, there you are. A word, please.”
“Break a leg,” Dean said and jogged away.
I joined the hopefuls, and after a moment, Coach clapped his hands and addressed the group.
“All right everyone, let’s get lined up. I’m your head coach, Bruce Daniels. This is assistant coach, Alan Wright, and this is your cox, Dean Yearwood. I’ll keep this short. I care about two things: teamworkand excellence. Every man standing here, regardless of their status last year, has an equal shot at a seat this year.”
I glanced at Tucker and his friends, arms crossed, nudging each other with their elbows and looking smug. Now that they were seniors, they clearly felt the statement didn’t apply to them.
“Show of hands,” Coach said. “How many of you have never rowed before?”
Of the sixteen newbies, four raised their hands.
Coach frowned. “I sincerely hope you four didn’t decide to give row a try because you thought it might be ‘fun’ without ever having set an oar in the water.”
Judging by the chagrined expressions, that’s exactly what they thought.
Coach went down the line with his clipboard, starting with me. “Name and position?”
“Xander Ford. Bow seat.”
Coach’s eyebrows rose slightly. He moved on while I caught Tucker exchange glances with a lean guy on the team. Likely, the current bow seat—a role that was less brawn and more technical skill, charged with balance and stability. They both turned their glare on me. The implication was clear: If I got the job, I’d be kicking his friend off the team.
Off to a great start already.
Coach Daniels finished taking inventory of his hopefuls and addressed the group.
“For those of you who are new to row, I’m going to give you a real quick rundown, and I mean, real quick. Once the season gets rolling, we’ll get into mechanics, technique, et cetera. But today, I’m going to be shouting a bunch of commands, and you need to know what the hell I’m talking about and react accordingly. Make sense?”
