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true blue ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ chapter five. ❛ AIN'T WE GOT FUN? ❜
"Legs through!" Bobby Moch yelled over the sound of oars slicing through the water in perfect unison. "Legs through! Legs through!" he repeated, fist hitting the side of the shell. "Legs through, soften the shoulders!" he yelled, another hit to the side. "Eyes up! Stay loose—stay loose. Shoulders down, Joe! Stay low! Eyes up." Bobby continued, fist slamming once more.
Eleanor sighed from the Conny, water spraying her hands as she gripped the side. She hated admitting it—but the team had gotten a lot better now that Bobby Moch was in the shell with them. There was only a couple of days until the regatta—it was safe to say she was feeling nervous about it. She'd been losing sleep over it, and drowning in her studies when she wasn't here. She exchanged a glance with her uncle, who offered a half-smile. Eleanor looked back to the shell, eyes set as they pushed through the motions of the stroke without struggle. Catch, drive, finish, recovery. And again. And again. And again.
"As one!" Bobby slammed his stick into the side. "As one! As one!" Bobby urged, and urged. He was relentless on them, and Eleanor drew a bated breath, watching as the crew pushed themselves further and further. "Pressure on the footplate, come on! Drive! Drive!"
When the shell pulled to the side of the dock, the crew lumbered with heavy limbs, stumbling towards the locker rooms. Eleanor followed slowly, catching sight of Don kneeling on the dock, messing with the oarlock. Eleanor let out a soft sigh, padding towards him. She knelt beside him, seeing he was trying to fiddle with it. With furrowed brows, Eleanor hummed. "You okay?" she asked in a soft tone, hands on her legs
Don shrugged. "Scared of messing up, I guess." he muttered, fingers tightening the screw on the oarlock. He looked up, meeting her eyes. "What do you think?"
Eleanor hesitated. What did she think? Pursing her lips, Eleanor looked at the boat—the old one, marked up from Bobby's demanding fists, worn down by crews before. "I think..." she started, turning to smile at Don. "I think that you guys are gonna kick Cal's ass."
Don let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "I hope you're right."
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Everywhere Eleanor looked, she saw glimpses of purple and gold. People waved flags, shook pom-poms, and wore their best Washington memorabilia. Eleanor wasn't left out of it, however—with a purple and gold ribbon holding half her hair back, and a Washington sweater-vest, Eleanor felt as ready as she could be as she stood to the side, eyes on the crew. The race was being held at Lake Washington—where the race would start from Sand Point, two miles up to Sheridan Beach.
