by Pol Robinson
“Yeah. Long recovery.” Cass finished her bottle and looked for the trash, wondering how she could gracefully change the subject. She didn’t want to focus on her leg anymore. She’d wasted enough time, lost enough time to a stupid accident. Now she just wanted to move forward. “So, I guess tomorrow—”
The door to their room opened and a new face peeked in. She glanced from Amy to Cass and back again then turned and spoke to someone outside.
“Hey, yeah, they’re up,” she called. She poked her face back inside. “Mind if we come in?” She addressed her comment to Amy and Cass as she stepped inside, followed by three other women wearing USA team shorts and T’s.
“No, come on in. Cass, this is Sarah Sullivan, your doubles partner. These three are Kim, Ellie and Jan. They’re numbers four, five and seven on the eight-boat.” Amy pointed to each woman in turn as she identified their positions on the long eight-woman boat.
As opposed to Cass and her new team partner, Sarah, the rowers on the eight-boat each used a single oar. The odd-numbered rowers rowed the starboard, or right-hand, side and the evens rowed the port side. Cass studied the newcomers appraisingly, just as they did her. Kim and Ellie epitomized the physique of rowers placed in the center of the boat; solid, well-muscled, broad-shouldered and probably very strong. Jan, too, matched Cass’s ideal of a Seven. She was tall, lithe and obviously fit, and she radiated a calm that made Cass feel completely at ease.
Cass rose to shake the newcomers’ hands. She finished with Sarah, saying, “I remember you. Nationals, two years ago?” At Sarah’s nod Cass continued, “Your boat beat mine by a hair.”
Sarah laughed. “Yep, I remember. It was pretty close.” She angled her head, reminding Cass of a curious terrier. “You didn’t stay for the after-party. I remember our coach wanting to talk to you.”
“I couldn’t, I was due back in Wisconsin to start my clinical rotation the next morning. My schedule was pretty tight. I almost didn’t make that last heat.”
“Too bad, we had a lot of fun.”
The four newcomers settled on the floor in various poses. Sarah grabbed a pillow from Amy’s bunk and bunched it up under her head as she stretched out on the floor.
“Hey. I have to sleep on that, you know,” protested Amy.
“Oh, lighten up, Ames. The floor’s clean.” She grinned up at Cass. “When’s your family getting here?”
Struggling to keep her voice light, Cass shook her head. “They’re ah...no. Not coming.”
“Nobody?” Ellie sat forward, exchanging glances with Jan.
“N-no.” Cass forced a fake yawn, hoping to deflect anymore questions. There wasn’t a chance in hell her “family” would make any effort at all to be here.
Jan, perhaps sensing Cass’s discomfort, filled the suddenly awkward silence. “So Cass, you’re going to bring us some new mojo, right?”
“Sorry?”
“Mojo. New. We need it.”
“Oh. Yeah. I was sorry to hear of Pam’s injury, will she be all right?” Cass knew from gossip around the docks back in San Diego that Sarah’s regular doubles partner, Pam Collins, had broken her arm four days after the team transitioned from Japan. Cass owed her sudden position on the team to a series of injuries, first to Pam and then to the reserve rower, Gail Kennedy.
Sarah nodded. “Yeah, she should be okay. I wanted her to fly back to the States to get it checked out right away, but she didn’t want to miss the Games.”
Cass was surprised. “She’s still here?”
“Yeah.”
“I look forward to meeting her.” Cass smiled shyly at the women sitting around her, glad they’d gotten off the topic of her family. “And I know what you mean about not wanting to miss this.”
“Oh, yeah. And you haven’t even seen the whole village yet,” Ellie chimed in. She tapped Cass’s leg in a friendly manner. “You’re not just here because Gail was stupid.”
“C’mon, El, that’s not fair,” Jan protested, but the others waved her objection away.
“You know it’s true.” Sarah’s voice was curt, she was obviously still angry about the reserve rower’s injury.
“I don’t understand. What happened?” Cass looked from one woman to the other, then finally to Amy for an explanation. The little coxswain shrugged.
“Gail Kennedy. You know, the reserve? We had a day off last week, and she decided to go exploring some of the rock formations north of the city. She freaking fell and tore a muscle in her shoulder. Shit, Sheila was furious. Still is, I think.”
Amy’s explanation cleared up some confusion for Cass. She’d wondered why the team wasn’t using the reserve doubles rower and now she knew.
Kim slid down the wall and pushed her feet into Jan’s leg. “We don’t have to get into this again, folks. It’s late.” She gave Cass a gentle smile. “We just wanted to say ‘hey’ and welcome you to the team.” She glanced at the others before adding, “Laura looked to be on a tear when she got back last night. She went straight to the gym.”
The others chuckled, apparently the capriciousness of the stroke of the eight crew was well known to them. Cass thought again of the abrupt welcome she’d gotten yesterday and wondered what had prompted it. She also remembered the brief flash of pain she’d seen on Laura’s face in the van just as they’d arrived in the village. “I thought she was mad at me for some reason.”
Sarah shook her head as she stood and tossed Amy’s pillow back onto the bed. “No worries, it wasn’t you. Laura can be a bit...intense.”
Ellie snorted as she hauled Kim and Jan up with her and headed toward the door. “Intense. Yeah, that’s a good word for it.”
“C’mon, guys,” Jan spoke up. “Give her a break.” She looked to where Cass was sitting and shrugged. “You know how it is. Girl’s gotta have a bit of an attitude to be a really good stroke. Laura’s–”
“Really good at what she does,” Ellie finished with a laugh.
“Say what you will, the woman’s a hell of a stroke and you know it.” Amy yawned and waved the other women out. “G’wan, I’m beat. The welcoming committee’s done its job.”
Sarah turned back and smiled again at Cass. “Welcome to the team, Cass. I’m looking forward to our practices.”
She closed the door behind her, leaving Cass and Amy alone once again. Cass rose and waited for Amy to return from the bathroom. Then she flipped off the light and climbed back up to her bunk. Her first meeting with her new teammates had gone pretty well, she thought. She stretched again and, after a whispered good night to Amy, slipped in to sleep again.
Amy listened as Cass resettled herself above her, considering what she’d learned about the team’s newest member, and what she’d seen last evening when Laura had returned with Cass from the airport.
She’d known Laura for more than four years, since the two had rowed at Cal as freshmen. It had been Laura who’d gotten Amy involved with the sport, Laura who’d convinced her that she’d make a good cox for the team. The two progressed together from JV to varsity, and together had led Cal to some spectacular victories. Amy knew Laura inside and out, and it was easy to see that something had upset her friend, something beyond being pushed out of the gym for one afternoon.
The bed above her creaked as Cass shifted, and Amy reviewed what she knew of Cass. The e-mail she had gotten last night from a friend back at the training center in San Diego had not been much help. Jackie had described Cass as a bit of a loner, someone who did not socialize much with the rest of the group. Of course, Amy mused, Jackie’s mad as hell she wasn’t selected to fill Gail’s slot. What Jackie had not said was as interesting as what she had. Amy did not remember a single thing in her e-mail that mentioned Cass’s course times or her abilities. Amy shrugged at the lack, still irritated with both her teammate’s lack of judgment and the injury that forced Coach to pull Gail from the regatta.
Amy sighed and rolled onto her side, punching her pillow into submission. Her eyes drifted closed as she thought again of Coac
h’s decisions. Pam’s broken arm had been first, and Amy knew Coach had had no choice but to replace her. But Gail’s injury was less severe, and Amy was fairly certain she’d have been good enough to get their double’s boat through to a decent finish, although probably not a medal. Coach’s reaction, however, had been a surprise. Sheila had been furious with Gail for deciding to go rock climbing on a team rest day.
Whatever else she might have thought about Laura, the team’s injuries, or the coach’s decision were lost as Amy surrendered to sleep, content to at least have a full squad once again.
Chapter Nine
“Look, this isn’t working.”
The disgust in Sarah’s voice grated on Cass’s last nerve, and she bit her tongue to keep from snapping back. The trouble was that Cass, too, knew something was off; something had been off since they’d put in to the water earlier today. It seemed the harder Cass worked to fit her style with Sarah’s, the worse their performance got. She groaned and collapsed backward, letting her momentum slide the seat until her head rested against the splash guard. She kicked her feet free of the shoes bolted into the stretcher, toed off her socks and let her feet dangle over each side of the slim craft into the water below. The coolness was a shock to her overheated system and she could see steam rising off her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. Years of training kept her hands on the oars, and she absently pushed her arms against the soft current, gently holding the shell in position. Before her, equally tired and apparently just as frustrated, Sarah Sullivan sat bent over her own oars, her back rising and falling with each deep breath.
“I know it’s not working, but I don’t know what the hell the problem is,” Cass gasped out between breaths. The air felt...thicker here. Almost chewable, she thought.
“It’s not as if you’re not trying hard enough. Shit, you work harder than the rooks.” Sarah, too, was blowing hard from their last workout.
“What’s going wrong then?”
“Damned if I know.” Sarah shook her head and slipped off her red USA Rowing hat. She ran her hands through her short blond hair, pushing it up on end. She reminded Cass of a rooster, all fire and energy and now, with her hair poking out at odd angles, it was enough to make Cass giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Just tired, I think.” This was their fourth run of the day and Cass was at her limit. The first run had been their first time together on the water, just an easy row down the course to get each other’s rhythm. The second run had been for time and for Coach to record it on video to see where they needed work. The run time hadn’t been too bad, but it was nowhere near the level they’d need to medal six weeks from now. The last two times down the course, Cass felt they had just gotten steadily worse.
As the stroke, the rower closest to the back end of the boat—the end farthest from the finish—it was Cass who called the stroke rate and it fell to her to decide when they made their sprint for the finish, when they stepped up their rate. Except, for some reason, that wasn’t working for them. When Cass had rowed bow, with Sarah calling the rowing rate, their speed had been better, but their timing off. When they’d switched back, as they had for the latest run, the speed was down but the timing better. Cass pushed herself up and waited as the coach’s launch idled closer, its throaty engine coughing as it, too, fought the current. Cass squinted against the sun and sat up a bit straighter when she noticed that Laura was piloting the shallow-hulled boat.
Laura was silhouetted against the late afternoon sunlight, her auburn hair pulled into a ponytail and threaded through the back of her team cap. A faded Cal-Berkeley T-shirt stretched across her shoulders and chest, and her long, tanned legs disappeared into worn shorts. Cass caught her breath, surprised again at the tingle that ran through her as she watched Laura deftly maneuver the boat alongside their fragile scull. It was the same brief feeling she’d gotten at the airport three days earlier. As Laura cut back the throttle and checked their position, her eyes caught Cass’s. They held for a moment, and Cass thought she saw some of her own frustration mirrored there. Cass shrugged ruefully, letting her disappointment over the latest practice run show through. Laura’s response was a brief nod in return, her eyes, shadowed by the brim of her hat, gave nothing away. Her expression was...still.
Sarah lifted an oar up toward Coach Sheila, who caught it and braced herself, using the oar as a bridge between the launch and the shell. Sarah asked the coach, “What do you think?”
“I think it’s time to come in and review some tape. Something’s off and we have to get it fixed.” Sheila frowned and rubbed her forehead. “It’s frustrating to watch, you’re almost there, but...”
“Damn...I know. Cass says so too. We’ve tried—”
“Flynn needs to sit stern.” Laura’s voice cut through Sarah’s, brusquely interrupting her.
Cass sat forward, frowning at Laura’s abrupt tone. She hated being referred to as simply “Flynn,” as if she weren’t a person. “We’ve tried that and it—”
“Not this way.” At Sheila’s nod, Laura continued. “Switch it up. There’s no rule that says stern has to call stroke, it’s just tradition. Put Flynn in the stern, but Sarah, you call the rate.” She paused and addressed Cass for the first time, her tone dismissive. Her head tipped forward just enough so the sun illuminated her face and her cool green gaze ran the length of Cass’s injured leg. “Can your leg stand another run at half-speed?”
Cass bristled at Laura’s tone and the implication. She’s stunning, but she’s a bitch, flashed through Cass’s mind as she jerked upright. Flipping her legs back into the scull, she slid her socks on and her feet back into the shoes. She used the moment to control her temper, but her hands trembled slightly, giving away her anger. I will not pop off. She’s a bitch, but I don’t have to row with her. “Can your leg handle it?” Fuck you. My leg is great. It’s not beautiful, but it works perfectly. Better than perfect. She took a deep breath and glared at Laura. “My name is ‘Cass,’ not ‘Flynn,’ and my leg is fine, thanks.” She jerked her head toward Sarah. “We can do another run, full speed, if you want. I’m good to go.”
“Fine, whatever.” Laura looked again to the coach. “Do you want to do one more run, but with the different setup?”
Cass watched as the coach looked from her to Laura and then over to Sarah, who was staring at Laura with a puzzled expression. With a last glance at Laura and a shrug in Sarah’s direction, the coach shook her head. “I think we’re done for the day.” Sheila raised her hand against Cass’s protest. “I know you’re eager to get it together, but we have six weeks yet. We don’t need to burn it all on day one.” She gently pushed Sarah’s oar away, sending the small scull drifting back. “Meet you on the dock.”
Cass fumed as they slowly rowed back to the magnificent dock the Chinese had built for these Games. The first time she’d seen the facility, she’d felt soothed, almost relaxed. The building seemed to flow with the river, to be a part of it. It blended into its surroundings, almost embraced by the natural bend at the end of the course. Cass had loved it at first sight. The softly curving roof had settled her, calmed her. But not now.
“What the hell is with her?”
“You mean Laura?”
“Yeah.” Cass’s strokes were choppy, reflecting her anger and frustration. “Is she an assistant or something?”
“No. Well, sort of. She wants to coach and really, normally, she’s good. Really good. She’s the stroke for the eight and Coach relies on her a lot. The assistants are at the gym with the rookies today, and when they’re tied up, Coach uses Laura. Don’t know what’s gotten into her, she’s usually not so...well, rude.” Sarah looked over her shoulder at Cass. “She’s not that bad, really. I’ve known her for, oh, I dunno, maybe ten months or so. Since the Head of the Charles regatta. She’s okay, really.”
“I just...” Cass frowned, frustrated. She concentrated on their position in the water for a moment, making sure they were clear of other teams heading i
n and out of the landing area. “She gets to me, you know? She pretty much ditched me at the airport and hasn’t said two polite words to me since.”
“She can be a bit...rough is I guess the best way to say it.” Sarah shrugged. “She’s good though, and that’s what counts, right?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what matters.” Cass pushed her reaction to Laura’s brusque treatment aside, realizing that fatigue was probably making her overreact. She glanced over her shoulder at the approaching dock. “Easy oar,” she said, a signal to Sarah to give a lighter stroke as they neared the floating structure and allow the small craft to continue its forward momentum. Checking her distance again, Cass called, “Drop,” and let her oars rest in the water, slowing the boat. As the bow of the boat passed the dock, she continued, “Bow out.” In time with her words, she flipped open the oar gate and lifted her dockside oar out of the water. She lifted it high, making sure the blade was well clear of the pilings.
“Stern out.” Sarah followed suit.
“Lean away.” Both women leaned away from the dock, allowing their dockside oars to hover above it as they floated in. They walked their hands down the teakwood dock planks and slowly brought the stern of the boat around so the scull was parallel to the dock. Cass remained in the boat and held it steady while Sarah climbed out, flipping her waterside oar gates open as she stepped onto the floating surface. Cass handed the oars to her and both women quickly and efficiently went through the motions of getting the scull ready to lift out of the water. Jenny Paulson, one of the team’s designated riggers, ran down the dock to help.
“Jenn, you help me get the boat out. Cass, you can grab the oars, okay?”
“I can do it, you know. There’s nothing wrong with me.” Cass’s sharp reply clearly startled Jenny and Sarah, and both women stared at her in silence. Jenny glanced quickly between the two women, then silently began wiping down the oars, keeping well clear of the other two.
