true blue ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ chapter two.
❛ SOONER THAN LATER. ❜
Hazel Ulbrickson sighed heavily at the silence that hung heavily in the dining room—her husband and niece sitting across from her, both silent as they slowly ate. Looking to her husband, his eyes were trained on the little notebook beside him, scanning the notes he had taken earlier that day. Then she looked to Eleanor, who was staring out the window to her left, to the river. Al Ulbrickson had been very persistent a few years earlier that their house would have to be near the river—and they has struck gold. Not even fifteen feet from the backdoor was the river—the same one the Washington Huskies had been treading over endlessly through the past couple of days.
Hazel smiled. "How's your chicken?" she looked to either one of them, beaming as she waited for an answer.
Al looked up, smiling a little, head clearing from his focused daze. "Oh, it's good sweetheart, thank you." Al said, emphasizing it with another slice popped into his mouth, a content hum. He then looked to Eleanor. "Ellie?"
"It's good, Aunt Hazel, thank you." Eleanor said, doing the same as her uncle. They had always been so alike—attatched at the hip, even. When Eleanor's dad was still around, Al had taken care of her a lot when he had been sick. So, when he passed, Eleanor and Al only got closer. It was often Eleanor was mistaken for Al's own daughter—Hazel didn't think he thought of her in any other way, however.
"Yeah, that's a pork chop you're eating," Hazel said, still smiling as she cut away at her food, the sound of her knife scraping away at the plate filled the silence.
"Oh," both Eleanor and Al said in unison.
Hazel laughed, standing from the table and walked the short distance to the kitchen sink. "How's the team?" she asked, begging to know what was plaguing the minds of her family.
"It's too early to say, but...good." Al said, almost questioning his own words as they came out.
"I see some potential," Eleanor shrugged, washing her own plate in the sink before grabbing her uncles plate. "I can't wait to see how many dropped out by tomorrow's practice."
Al Ulbrickson rolled his eyes at this.
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Eleanor had her nose in a book as she waited for class to start when quiet wincing reached her ears. Brows furrowed, she looked around, and quickly found the source. Joe Rantz and Roger Morris slid down the aisle towards their seats, faces distorted with discomfort and pain. Roger held onto the wall behind him, while Joe held onto his back. Eleanor had to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh—they were definitely feeling the extent of yesterday's rowing practice.
"You boys okay?" Eleanor questioned, closing her book, leaning down to look at them. Roger looked up at her, before realzing who it was—he let out a groan. Joe peered at her, brows knitting together. "I hope you aren't too sore for today, I heard it's gonna be a lot of fun. And I would know." Eleanor grinned wickedly.
Joe shook his head, falling into his seat. "I'm fine. Just a little stiff, is all." Joe stated, rolling his shoulders. Eleanor laughed, shrugging her shoulders, and returned to her book.
Not even fifteen minutes later, as Eleanor was scrawling notes of the lesson, the distinct sound of snoring sounded throughout the lecture hall. Her brows furrowed together, scanning the dimly lit room for where it was coming from. She saw the professor perk up, reaching for his flashlight. Eleanor looked down, seeing Roger and Joe passed out, leaning against one another, snoring loudly. As the professor shined the light over the rows of students, Eleanor realized the boys were about to be caught asleep.
Grabbing her binder, Eleanor leaned forward and swiped it across Joe's face. If the sound was as loud as she had thought it was, the professor surely didn't notice. Joe made a weird choking sound as he shot up, blinking rapidly. Just as soon as he woke, the light blinded him—but, the light was directed at Roger.
"Excuse me!" the professor belowed, waking Roger up. "Would you like me to teach quieter as to not disrupt your napping habits, Mr. Morris?" asked the professor.
Roger blinked slowly, still groggy with sleep. "I feel like that may be a trick question." Roger manages out, rubbing at his eyes. The blinding light in his face is shut off as the professor continues to tear into him, before returning back to the lesson.
Joe shifts in his seat, before turning around and looking at Eleanor. "Thanks..." Joe whispers, leaning forward a little.
"No problem, forty-seven." Eleanor grins.
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Eleanor had been right—the number of people who showed up for the second practice had significantly decreased in size compared to the day before. But still, they got right to work. Eleanor watched from her uncle's side as they warmed up—fifty pushups, fifty jumping jacks, and fifty sit-ups. When the time comes to climb into Conny, the little motored boat that followed alongside the shells, Eleanor smiled up at her uncle, who gave her a peculiar look.
"You look excited," he commented, hanging onto the side of the boat as it took off after the shells, Coach Bolles standing behind them. Eleanor shrugged, leaning forward to watch. For the next hour and a half, Eleanor, her uncle, and Coach Bolles argued as they usually would—all while watching the young men row. They agreed on some candidates, but disagreed on mosts, all of which her uncle was jotting down in his notebook.
When they switched to the double wide boats, with their little seats in the back to watch over, Eleanor held onto her uncle's shoulder as the force of each man rowing at once practically threw her forward. This went on and on, and when they finally reached the last boat, Eleanor was happy to find a familiar face. If Don Hume knew Eleanor was standing behind him, he sure didn't show it. She was pleased to see when her uncle nudged Bolles and gestured to Hume—before writing his name on a blank page.
Eleanor never rowed much herself, only what her uncle made her do from time to time as 'uncle-niece' bonding. But, she had to admit, she was falling for the sport. The way the boat skimmed the water so smoothly, the perfect unison, the satisfaction of watching each oar hit the water at the same time—though, these guys weren't that good yet. As of now, each oar hit the water at seperate times, but their movements were still strong, but no doubt needed some work.
When they got back to the dock to continue practice in singles, Eleanor retrieved her stuff from the shell house and kissed her uncle's cheek and began the walk back through campus to walk home. What Eleanor didn't consider was walking right into a familiar face. She groaned internally when Bobby Moch caught sight of her, and unsurprisingly made his way over to her.
"Eleanor Ulbrickson, long time no see." Bobby greeted, smiling, crossing his arms over his chest.
Eleanor fought the urge to roll her eyes, forcing a polite smile. "Bobby Moch—you still seem...agitating." she said, her tone light.
Bobby laughed. "You only decided I was agitating when I—"
Eleanor groaned. "I don't even want to talk about it, okay? That was a long time ago." she interrupted, an embarassed flush rising up her neck. Or maybe she was mad. She couldn't even tell.
He hummed. "It was only six months ago. Not a long time if you ask me, Ellie." Bobby shrugged, fists in his pockets. God, she hated him more now than she did six months ago—and that was a lot. "How's the JV team? I heard you were helping out with Uncle Al this year. Little Coach Ellie, huh?" Eleanor was tempted to figure out how loud the sound of her palm meeting his cheek would be—and she almost did. But, Eleanor restrained herself, as she always did.
Smiling politely, Eleanor cocked her head. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she asks, walking forward, and unfortunately he followed. "Oh, you probably would—you know, since you got your ass kicked off varsity this past season."
Bobby's smile twitched. "I know I messed up. You know, I'm thinkin' he'll give me a second chance one of these days. I'm the best coxswain he's ever had." he stated. "Wouldn't you just love being able to work with me again?"
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "You're such a dick, Bobby. I hope you never get to ride in a shell—unless it happens to be a coffin. Preferably sooner than later." Eleanor said, before walking away in a huff.
Luckily, Bobby Moch didn't follow this time—her stomach flipped at the thought of having to bear Bobby Moch for extended periods of time. In truth, the two had been...well, they hadn't been friends. But, they were something. What that was, Eleanor doesn't really care to admit.
When Eleanor came home in a huff, screendoor slamming open, startling her aunt who sat in a chair in the sitting room, her eyes widened at the sight of her angry looking niece.
"Ellie, what happened?" Hazel asked, sitting up and following the teenage girl to her bedroom. Eleanor threw open her bedroom door and fell into her bed, face smushed in the pillows. Her reply was muffled at first. "What was that, sweetie?"
"Bobby Moch happened." Eleanor said.
Hazel hummed, aware of the history. "Oh, well. That'll do it." she mused, laughing.
emma / january 17th, 2024
sorry it's so short, it'll get longer as we get into the good stuff!