Page 13 of False Catch

One of the JV rowers, a sophomore Alpha named Morrison, watches her with too much interest. I see Bo notice it too, his jaw tightening. The last thing we need is territorial displays in front of the entire program.

"JV, let's get moving," Coach Wilder calls, appearing with their practice plan. "Varsity, showers and team room. Now."

We rack our shell in silence. The four-man crew is already back from their session, their boat gleaming in the rack. They practice separately, different coach, different schedule, but we share the boathouse. Share the weight room. Share the growing reputation of Sable Ridge Crew.

"Heard you guys destroyed Riverside," one of them says as we pass. Peters, their stroke. Good guy, solid rower, completely oblivious to the powder keg he's standing next to.

"We did alright," Gray responds, not stopping.

In the locker room, the tension breaks slightly. Without coaches or other crews around, we can drop the pretense.

"We can't keep this up," Tyler says, pulling off his practice kit. "Our split times were thirty seconds off pace. That's not just bad. That's catastrophic."

"No shit," Beckett snaps, which tells me how stressed he is. Beckett never snaps.

"It's my fault," Reese says from the doorway. She never comes into the locker room, always changes separately, but apparently we're past maintaining boundaries. "I should have—"

"Don't," Gray cuts her off. "This isn't on you."

"Isn't it?" She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes that makeup can't hide. "I'm the variable that changed. Before I got here, you were functional."

"Functional isn't the goal," Cameron says quietly from his corner. It's more words than he usually strings together. "Exceptional is the goal. We're exceptional with you."

"Not today we weren't."

"Today's an anomaly," Eli says, analytical as always. "We're adjusting to new dynamics. It's temporary."

But I catch the look he gives me, the question in it. Because Eli knows my history. Knows why I'm struggling more than the others. Knows that another Omega coxswain with suppressant failure isn't just déjà vu—it's my worst nightmare repeating.

"Shower up," Gray orders. "Meeting in ten."

The water is scalding, but it doesn't wash away the sense of impending doom. I've been through this before. The team falling apart. The administration getting involved. The spectacular collapse that follows when designation dynamics destroy what training built.

I'm toweling off when Eli appears beside me, voice low.

"You good?"

"Fine."

"Jackson." Just my name, but he makes it mean paragraphs.

"I can't do this again," I admit, the words barely audible over the shower noise. "I can't watch another team implode because of..." I can't finish.

"This isn't Northlake," Eli says firmly. "Reese isn't Meredith. And you're not eighteen anymore."

"Doesn't feel different."

"Because you're not letting it be different." He pauses, choosing words carefully. "Maybe instead of waiting for history to repeat, you could help write a different ending."

Before I can respond, he's gone, leaving me with thoughts I don't want to examine.

The team room is cramped with all nine of us plus coaches. Coach Bennett stands at the front, arms crossed, while Coach Wilder leans against the wall. The whiteboard behind them still shows our splits from Riverside—victory times that feel like they happened in another lifetime.

"Close the door," Coach says.

Gray complies, the click of the latch somehow ominous.

"I've been coaching for fifteen years," Coach Bennett begins. "Twelve here at Sable Ridge. In that time, I've seen teams with talent fail and teams with heart succeed. I've seen designation dynamics destroy championships and create them."