"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
"The point," my father said, and his voice went cold, "is that this program was supposed to be temporary. Goodwill. A photo opportunity for the alumni magazine. It was never supposed to become actual integration."
I pressed my back harder against the wall.
"Integration is a strong word," Eldridge said.
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, you're treating Riverside athletes like they're our equals. Pairing them in boats, giving them access to our facilities, our coaching—"
"They're D1 athletes, Thomas. Same as ours."
"They're not the same." My father's voice was ice. "And you know it."
Silence.
Then Eldridge, measured: "I paired your son with one of them this morning."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"In a double. First practice of the week. Alex and Liam Moore."
The silence that followed was different. Heavier.
"You did what?" My father's voice was very quiet. Dangerously quiet.
"I paired them based on size, power output, and technique compatibility," Eldridge said. "And before you object—"
"Before Iobject?" My father's control was cracking. "You paired my son with the Riverside boy and you're just now mentioning it?"
"Because it worked." Eldridge's voice was firm now. "Thomas, I need you to listen to me. I watched that boat this morning. They were synchronized within the first ten strokes. Perfect ratio, perfect rhythm, perfect catch. That kind of chemistry doesn't happen often. It's exactly what we're looking for in competitive doubles."
Chemistry.
The word sent ice through my veins. If either of them knew the actual nature of that chemistry—the dorm room, the closet, Saturday night—everything would collapse. My father's opposition would look reasonable by comparison.
"I don't care about their chemistry—"
"You should. Because that pairing could win races."
"I don't want Alex winning races with some—" My father stopped himself. "I want him winning races with Kingswell rowers. Athletes from programs that meet our standards. Not scholarship kids."
My pulse throbbed in my throat.
Liam.He was talking about Liam like he was a liability. Like he wasless than.
"Moore is talented," Eldridge said. "Top three on Riverside's roster. Fast erg, clean technique, works harder than half our legacy admits combined."
"I don't care how talented he is." My father's voice was rising, the control slipping. "I will not have my son rowing with some charity case who thinks this program is his ticket to legitimacy."
The words hung in the air.
My chest went tight. Not with sadness. With something hotter. An anger I didn't often let out.
"Alex is a Harrington. Fourth generation Kingswell rower. His training partners should reflect that legacy. Not undermine it."
