Page 38 of Ruthless Court
“To the team.”
“Stanford doesn’t have varsity synchronized swimming.”
The room goes quiet.
Piper narrows her eyes. “How do you know that?”
“I can read.”
Jules snaps her fingers. “Croquet.”
“Not a varsity sport.”
“Competitive sailing.”
“You don’t know how to sail.”
Kenzie lifts her chin. “You don’t know my life.”
“You grew up in Arizona.”
“There are boats in Arizona.”
“Name one.”
I go back to my shirts.
Piper reaches down, grabs both my wrists, and pulls.
“No.”
“Get up.”
“I’m unpacking.”
“You’ve unpacked seven books and three identical sweaters.”
“They aren’t identical.”
“They’re all beige.”
“One is oatmeal.”
She drags me off the bed.
I catch my balance and look down at myself.
My legs are pale from a Chicago winter that lasted half my life. I’m not overweight, but no one is going to mistake me for a beach-volleyball recruit either. My body was designed for carrying library books and avoiding unnecessary attention.
“Yeah, I’m not feeling very athletic.”
“It’ll be dark,” Jules says.
“Comforting.”
“I have spray tan,” Kenzie offers.
I take a step back. “You’re not spraying me with anything.”
