By now, half the racing group had passed me, and my scull was rapidly filling with lake water. I waved madly at the dock, trying to signal the issue to Coach Reilly.
“I’m getting swamped!” I screamed, hoping my voice would carry.
He finally noticed what was happening and blew a whistle, indicating the emergency situation to the other rowers. Then I saw him frantically gesticulating and shouting at his assistants, commanding them to help me. They raced down to the end of the dock, where a little rescue dinghy was tied in the water.
I knew the protocol. If our boats got swamped, we were supposed to stay with them and wait for help instead of trying to swim to shore. The boats would still float when they were completely filled, so we had to stay seated in them and keep as much of our body out of the water as possible. If we tried to swim away instead, we risked losing too much heat and energy, especially in cold weather conditions.
A cheer went up from the crowd on the shore as my scull became completely submerged. The freezing water was up to my waist now, and every cell in my body screamed for respite.
“Shit!” I cried out as the scull suddenly moved beneath me.
It was still floating, but it was tipping violently to the left, probably due to the hole on that side. I knew exactly how things would go from here—within a minute or so, I would be tipped into the water too, and then the scull would flip completely onto its side. My only option then would be to paddle next to it and try to maneuver my body onto the sky-facing side to preserve energy and warmth.
The rescue dinghy wasn’t far away now. I could hear the buzz of its engine as it cut through the water, heading straight for me. Above that, I could hear more whooping and cheering from the shore. The spectators were celebrating my failure.
Of course they are,I thought bitterly to myself.
I should’ve known that I wasn’t just being paranoid when I saw the size of the crowd today. Rowing didn’t magically become a popular sport at RFA overnight—all of those students knew something was going down today, and they turned up to watch with glee.
Assholes.
The rescuers finally arrived, and several minutes later, they had me rugged up on the dock, safe and sound. My teeth chattered like mad as Adam and Trina raced toward me, eyes saucer-wide.
“Are you okay?” Trina asked, grabbing another blanket to wrap around me.
“I… I’m fine,” I choked out. “Just c-cold.”
“What the hell happened?”
I tightened the blanket around my chest, gulping down deep breaths. “Hole in boat,” I managed to get out.
“How could there be a hole?” Adam asked, eyes narrowing. “I thought the boats always get checked before you go out!”
“They do,” Coach Reilly cut in. “My assistants were meant to check every last one.”
One of the assistant coaches spoke up. “We did, sir. We—”
Reilly held up a hand, cutting him off. “We’ll discuss this later. Right now our main priority is Laney.” His face softened as he looked back at me. “We need to get you to the school nurse. I don’t think you’re hypothermic, but we need to make sure.”
As we headed down the dock, I spotted Hunter standing on the shore, watching us.
Suddenly I wasn’t freezing or exhausted anymore. I was hot with rage instead, filled with an overwhelming urge to knock Hunter to the ground and pound his arrogant face with my fists until he bled.
Our gazes connected a few seconds later, and my breath hitched. Even while anger burned inside me like a wildfire, he made me feel like my heart would burst right out of my chest every time I looked into his eyes.
A smirk curved his lips as I stared, and just like that, the fiery anger outweighed the attraction again. I burst ahead of the others and marched right up to him.
“You did this,” I hissed, jabbing him in the chest.
“I didn’t do anything. I was in class all afternoon, and then I came down here with my friends,” he said, smugly arching a brow. “I can prove it.”
“You still made this happen. Someone sneaked in and put a hole in my boat because of yourstupid blacklist!” I said.
It occurred to me then that it had to be someone in the rowing club. Only they would know which racing scull was mine, and only they would know when and how to put a hole in it without getting caught by the assistant coaches as they checked everything.
Great.
Until today, the bullying hadn’t infiltrated any of my clubs, aside from the odd stare or outright ignorance of my presence, and as a result, I’d come to view them as a bit of a safe haven. Now I needed to consider quitting all of them for my own safety.