Page 43 of Ruthless Court

“Synchronized swimming,” Piper says.

“No,” I tell her.

“Rowing,” Jules offers.

“You don’t have the shoulders.”

“Rude.”

“Believable lies require research.”

Kenzie leans between the front seats.

“Curling.”

I look at her in the mirror.

“You’re committed for curling?”

“No one knows enough about it to challenge us.”

“That is actually your strongest argument.”

Piper points toward the road.

“We’re the Stanford women’s curling team.”

“There is no Stanford women’s curling team.”

“There is tonight.”

“And I am?”

“Our manager.”

“I’d rather be the driver.”

“Fine. Designated driver and assistant manager.”

“I hate all of you.”

Piper turns up the music.

“No, you don’t.”

Not yet.

* * *

Security at the beach consists of two student volunteers wearing Stanford shirts and checking names against a digital list.

That should end our night.

Instead, Jules walks straight toward them with the confidence of someone who has never been told no by anyone holding a clipboard.

“We’re with women’s curling.”

The volunteer looks up.