“I have a few stories, yeah,” I said, nodding. “But they’re not for day one.”
“Fair enough,” Chloe said and pushed off the wall she had been leaning against. “I think it’s about time to meet everyone in the main hall again—boring speeches, blah blah and then, of course, dinner. God, I’m starving. I’m always so hungry.”
I followed her out of the room and we walked up to the main hall with the other girls. I wore sandals and the soft grass of the arboretum flicked across my feet. The air was hot, and a blue sky stretched over us like an orb, and there wasn’t a sign of the city anywhere at all. We were secluded up there, with a single mission: become the best possible athletes we could be.
The dining area was how I might have pictured a regal palace; long and tall windows that drenched the room in light, hardwood floors and thick wooden tables, and banners hanging from the ceiling that celebrated even more championships than I could have thought possible. Chloe and I streamed into the room alongside some two hundred other students, most of them tall and strong and terribly beautiful. I came from nothing, but you could almost smell the upscale genetic breeding of the others. It was like they had all been genetically planned.
Through the crowd, I caught sight of Theo Everton, the gymnast at mine and Jeanine’s gym. His blonde curls had grown out a bit since I had last seen him, and they swirled down to his shoulder. He stood with his hands shoved into his jean pockets and his blue eyes were like daggers as he looked toward me. I shivered and cast my eyes toward the floor. I had always been fully aware that he was one of the most handsome people I had ever met, but the fact that he was made of millions, and that his father was an Olympic silver medalist, drew a very thick line between us.
So he obviously thought I shouldn’t be there among the cream of the crop, but I had gotten into the same school as him. We were teammates now, and my lips quivered into a wicked little smile. He would have expected that. I was sure.
“What are you grinning about?” Chloe asked, knocking me into the shoulder. Her eyes traced through the crowd, searching for what I was looking at. She clicked her tongue and said, “Oh. Fuck. I hope you’re not grinning about the Brotherhood.”
“What?” I asked, twisting my head to look at her.
“Theo Everton and his best friends, the guys he runs with. Clinton Reynolds and Zed Winford,” she said. Her words were laced with sarcasm. “They’re the top male athletes in their divisions—that is, gymnastics for Theo, swimming for Clinton, and track for Zed. And they’re so fucking arrogant; it’s not even funny. Theo’s father is one of the biggest donors to Denver Athletics, and Theo, Clinton, and Zed basically act like they run this school.”
I tilted my head a bit to get a better view of the Brotherhood, or whatever the hell they were called. Clinton, the swimmer, was obviously the one with broader shoulders and jet-black hair, standing next to Theo. His cheekbones could have killed someone; they were so sharp. He was about two inches shorter than Theo and handsome in a serial killer kind of way. His hands looked large and powerful like they could snap you in two.
On the other side of Theo stood Zed, the runner. His hair was dark brown, curled around his ears, and he was a bit taller than both of the others, with long runner’s legs that were powerful and lean. He was more angular than the others, as well, but no less handsome, and he had a bit of facial hair. He looked a bit more anxious than the other two, although his arrogance also showed through.
“Zed isn’t as rich as the others,” Chloe explained as we sat at a long table. “He has a small scholarship. Nothing as big as yours, I don’t think, but enough. I’ve heard he also lives in the basement, but I can’t be sure. Regardless, he is considered the bad boy out of them and they’re always hanging out in Theo’s bedroom since he has the best one because of his dad. I saw it just once last year when he had a party.”
I arched my brow, genuinely shocked that anyone at Denver Athletics would have any kind of party. Obviously, we were all hyper-focused on our athletic goals. Chloe shrugged like she knew where my head was. “We find ways around it,” she said. I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I nodded like I had some kind of clue.
I felt like the weirdest teenager in the world. Again, I turned back to the Brotherhood, who all sat at one side of a table that also included Poppy, Ellison, and a few other girls who seemed of equal beauty and popularity. I had never been to high school, but I had seen enough television to figure out the kind of game. I had thought maybe Denver Athletics didn’t have that kind of hierarchy since we all had these epic life-altering goals. But I was wrong.
There was a little stage at the far end of the dining hall. Mr. Piper walked up and stood holding a microphone. He beamed at us, and that little piece of his bald spot also seemed to beam. Chloe whispered in my ear, “He’s always so fucking eager, but you have to love that about him. He genuinely loves being this school’s headmaster.”
“Good evening, both new and old students of Denver Top-Level Athletics Academy!” he yelled out. “It is my unique pleasure to welcome you to yet another school year here—a year for a continued effort toward our goals, both academic and athletic. As you know, we have a whole host of very successful athletic alumni, many of whom went on to do incredible things. Things such as winning the National Title, or going on to the intensity of university sports and representing their teams with finesse, strength and honor, or even going on to the Olympics. With the next Olympics coming up in two years, I know many of you have your sights on the next Olympic Trials. I ask that over the next semester, you not only give focus to your own goals but that you help one another when necessary. If someone is struggling at practice, say a kind word. If someone says they can’t go on, or they’re thinking about quitting, tell them about a time when you thought the same thing. The efforts that you exhibit at this school will live in you for the rest of your life, regardless of what you do afterward. Make every single moment count.”
Frankly, I was impressed with the speech. I joined the rest of the students in applause. The Brotherhood seemed oddly bored with the speech and clapped maybe twice, as I continued to smash my palms together. I couldn’t help it. Fuck, I was so pumped up.
Mr. Piper then informed us that practice would, of course, begin the following day, with classes beginning the day after. Then, servers dressed in all-white uniforms swept out from the kitchen, carrying platters. Each platter had five plates on it. A savory, herb smell filled the air. Enormous baskets of bread, with pads of butter, were sent to every table, as the platters of salmon and roasted vegetables were placed in front of us. I reached forward and grabbed a roll and half-considered swallowing it whole.
Chloe grabbed my wrist and gave me a funny look.
“What?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Just calm down, girl,” she quipped, laughing slightly. “You look like you’re going to eat the entire basket.”
I wanted to tell her that this was my first meal that wasn’t eaten super-fast over the sink at the diner or scraped from the plates of one of the kids at Karla’s house. But that information wasn’t necessary. No one gave a shit about my backstory outside of The New York Times, I guess, and it wasn’t exactly a great first dinner conversation. I dropped the roll on my plate and replied, “Get used to it because I love carbs.”
She laughed and a few other students started in on the rolls, scraping butter over the soft cloud-like insides. I took this as a sign that I could do it, too. Slowly, and I followed their lead and ate. God, it was so delicious and satisfying. The salmon oozed with butter, lemon and cracked pepper, and the vegetables were deliciously seasoned as well.
The other girls from our hall started a conversation about their upcoming practice schedule. It seemed that everyone, including gymnasts, had a 5 a.m. wake-up time. Practice began on the nose at 5:30 a.m. I took a deep breath and forced myself to think this was fine; it was okay. Sure, I wasn’t used to it, but I could get used to anything.
“Swim practice is alway
s that early,” Chloe informed me. “I don’t remember the last time I slept in. I even got a practice in this morning at the hotel before my parents dropped me off.”
“Jesus,” I murmured as I ripped another roll open and spread butter on the inside.
“Yeah. But I always feel bad if I don’t, especially when they’re around. They’ve given me everything to help me succeed,” she said as she popped a piece of salmon in her mouth.
I swallowed the rest of my buttery roll and gazed at the mound of uneaten ones, just a few feet away. “By the way. Have you had much experience with Poppy?” I asked as I moved my food around on my plate with my fork.
Mallory from our hallway spun her head toward me. She looked menacing. “I heard what happened at try-outs,” she piped in.
That really was getting around.
“Oh?” I said.
“I heard Poppy was out for your blood,” Mallory said. “You should watch your back because she hates competition.”
“I’m not trying to get in her way,” I explained. “I’m just trying to train.”
“That’s not how she sees it,” Mallory continued. She lowered her voice a bit, as though Poppy, who sat a good thirty feet away from us, could possibly hear her. “She’s ruined other girls— girls I’ve heard weren’t even as good as you are. Just because she thought maybe they could rival her.”
This sounded like complete bullshit. I reached for my drink, and before taking a sip, I said, “What could she possibly do?”
These girls couldn’t have possibly understood what I had gone through my entire life. There was no way Poppy was as bad as that. Sure, she had run me through the wringer at try-outs, but she was here to do the same thing I was: work as hard as she could to become the best gymnast she could be. You couldn’t worry about anyone else when you were so focused on that. Right?
“You’d be surprised,” Mallory said ominously.
“I guess I will be since that’s so vague,” I said with a shrug.
Chloe laughed. She squeezed my elbow lightly and said, “Whatever. You’ll be fine. We’re all top in our sports, so of course, we all can be bitches.”
“Definitely,” I said, although I really struggled to imagine myself fighting back in any kind of dirty way. I was just going to keep my head down.
Chapter Seven
Once dinner ended, Mr. Piper got up to say we could spend the rest of the evening out on the arboretum, the long stretch of green space surrounded by the massive stone buildings and beautiful, two-hundred-year-old trees. It was just after eight o’clock, and the sky had just begun to bleed out into a gorgeous kaleidoscope of red and orange hues. The school was located just outside of Denver, which was a higher elevation, entrenched in the mountains themselves and from the center of the green, you could spot the peaks of mountains on the outside of the school grounds. It was a beautiful setting and the Rockies were monstrous beasts, dwarfing us in that arboretum. I inhaled slowly, taking it all in and pinched myself. All my life, I had seen those mountains from afar. Now, it felt like I had climbed Mount Olympus because I was right there.
“What?” Chloe said beside me. “You look like you’re praying or something.”
“I’m not,” I laughed. “I’m just taking in all the beauty.”
“You sound like my Mom on vacation,” Chloe said. I think she regretted it immediately—probably remembering that a mom wasn’t exactly something I knew anything about. She grabbed my hand and popped toward the side of the green space. She yanked me toward the little stand, where a blonde thirty-something woman dished out frozen yogurt in little cups. This was probably the unhealthiest dessert I would be allowed to eat for the next, oh, until I retired from gymnastics.
“Hey, Coach Izzy!” Chloe said and smiled when it was our turn for a little pocket of froyo.
“Hey, babe!” Coach Izzy replied with a huge smile. “I just got your practice logs for the summer. You killed it. I’m so proud of you.”
Chloe blushed, then said, “Coach, this is my roommate this year, Rooney. Rooney, this is my swim coach, Coach Izzy.”
“First day, huh?” Coach Izzy said. “I remember mine still, which is almost twenty years ago now, phew. But it was really scary. You have a good partner here to help you along.”
“Don’t tell her I’m a good person yet,” Chloe said and then winked at her coach playfully. “I’m still assessing if she deserves me.”
Coach Izzy rolled her eyes and swatted us away with our froyo. “I’ll see you at practice bright and early. You remember what I’ll do if you’re even a minute late?”
Chloe grumbled. We eased to the side of the green space and walked toward some of the other girls in our hallway. I felt like we were a flock of geese or something, but a flock that didn’t particularly like or care about each other yet. As we neared them, I heard my name and yanked my head to the right. My heart felt like it caught fire.
Theo Everton had said my name. He had never done that before, not in all the years I had trained near him at the gym. He stood there with his Brotherhood, in a line. They just stared at me, giving me a once-over at the same time. Only Zed, the runner, had any kind of smile on his face.
“Theo,” I said. My legs felt like they weren’t fully attached to my body anymore.
“You remembered me,” he said. He said it like he fully expected me to remember him. Like it was a given. I guess it kind of was.
“We’ve trained at the same gym for years,” I replied. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Sure. In the summers,” he smirked. He took a few steps toward me, and I could feel his eyes slip down from mine, across the mounds of my breasts and the flatness of my stomach under my tank-top, the skirt I had opted for that I had gotten from Goodwill a few weeks ago. I had thought it was pretty at the time, but I suddenly realized that it probably looked second-rate here. I knew I stood out like a sore thumb compared to the other girls.
“I heard what happened at try-outs.” He shot me a wicked grin. His eyes glittered. “My dad was one of the judges.”
“I know,” I murmured. “I saw him.”
And I’ve been watching his Olympic video on VHS for the past, like, ten years.
“Poppy can be a fucking bitch,” Theo said. He didn’t say it kindly. It wasn’t like he was watching out for me or anything. It was just a fact.
I shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”
“That’s obvious. Everyone knows that. Hell, we all read that New York Times article. Didn’t we, boys?” Theo looked back at them with a grin.
“Whatever,” I muttered.
“Hey. All press is good press, isn’t it?” Theo shot.
Why did I feel like that was a threat? I frowned and said, “I guess if you want to parrot what everyone else says, forever. Sure.”
“There she is. She’s got teeth,” Clinton said, and when he smiled, I noticed a deep dimple in his right cheek.
Some of the froyo started to melt out onto my knuckles. I had completely forgotten about it and stared down at it. Before I knew what was happening, Theo lurched up—close to me and then smeared his finger directly through my frozen yogurt. Then, he took the huge chunk up to his lips and licked it off sensually. His eyes locked with mine as I watched him smile slowly and show his beautiful white teeth.
What the hell.
“You might want to start licking that before it ends up on the floor,” Theo smirked.
They all laughed, probably half expecting me to do as I was told, but instead, I just stood there like an idiot. Theo and his goons walked to the frozen yogurt line and I turned to Chloe feeling my head swimming at what just happened.
“What the hell was that?” I asked as I threw my remaining yogurt in the trash can and then wiped off my hand with the napkin I had been holding.
Chloe looked at me and then over my shoulder at them. “You might have a mark on your back. Or he’s just marked you as an easy lay. One of the two, or both.”
“You say it like this is a to
tally normal thing,” I said.
“Just avoid them as much as you can,” Chloe returned. “Here. Have some of my froyo. We can grab more from Coach Izzy after the line clears out.”
We sat near the Basement Girls, but I found it really difficult to join in on their conversation. I continued to glance back toward Theo, Zed and Clinton, who had seemed to get the largest vats of frozen yogurt, much more than anyone else. They talked to a few of Poppy’s friends, who all seemed to be flirting and flipping their hair behind their shoulders. It almost felt like I was watching an episode of Gossip Girl.
I did wonder where Poppy was, though. And I got my answer only a bit later when I had stretched out on my back to stare at the sky and she appeared right up there, where the stars were supposed to be and beamed down at me. A rush of adrenaline hit me.
“Hey there, Rooney,” she beamed at me. She held two little cups of frozen yogurt. “I wanted to come say hi and officially welcome you to Denver Athletics. Here, I brought you more froyo. I heard what happened to yours. What an idiot, Theo, is.”
I frowned and shoved myself up into a sitting position. Poppy sat down next to me. She passed me a little cup of froyo and looked pleased with herself like she had mended whatever trauma she had created between us.
“Um. Thanks,” I said, looking at her a little confused. What the hell was she up too?
“How are you feeling about everything?” Poppy asked, licking off her spoon while she looked into her cup of yogurt. “God, I just knew they would pick you at try-outs. That’s why I pushed you so hard. I wanted to prove to them that you could do it. I hadn’t seen an audition like that since... well. Since I’ve been here, anyway.”
I said, “Thanks,” again. I realized I sounded like a damn fucking parrot, so I added, “This has always been a dream to train here. I can’t wait to train with you, girls.”
“Oh, we’re really excited, too,” Poppy replied with a smile. It almost sounded sincere, and her smile actually did look genuine. “So are you ready for our super crazy practices that start at 5:30 every morning? We always get used to it really fast. Part of the sacrifice, right?”
Out for Blood Page 6
