“A little help?” Owen called, his vision obscured by two cardboard boxes full of Speedos. He wasn’t sure if he was going to bang into a pile of kickboards or a wooden bench in the guys’ locker room. Finally, he dropped the boxes to the wet tiled floor in frustration.
“Get your suits!” he called gruffly. He was still a little annoyed that no one had shown up at Paragon when he’d picked them up yesterday. Eventually, not knowing what else to do, he’d texted Kelsey. She’d met up with him, and they’d hooked up in the dressing rooms by the tennis rackets while one of the shop employees went in search of the St. Jude’s suits.
None of the swimmers seemed to notice him. Instead, they were crowded around Hugh Moore. He was wearing a ridiculous pirate-type hat, complete with a feather. Owen’s eyes narrowed. Hugh was usually pretty funny, but now wasn’t the time. The team really had to come together after their loss last week, and only five practices stood between them and a huge meet with Unity, an Upper East Side boys’ school that was one of St. Jude’s biggest rivals. If they lost that meet, they were pretty much screwed for the rest of the season.
“Guys?” Owen called again. He climbed onto one of the rickety wooden benches. No one even looked up. They were still clustered around Hugh like he was preaching the gospel.
“Seriously, I’m telling you, if you go to the Barneys lingerie floor, you’re in, man! All you have to do is pretend you’re buying underwear for your girlfriend. I did it once, and a girl totally modeled a teddy for me. Do you guys even know what a teddy is?” Owen overheard Hugh ask the guys.
“Pick up your suits now!” Owen bellowed in frustration.
“Carlyle is trying to say something to you queens.” Coach poked his head out from the tiny makeshift office in the corner of the locker room. Owen flushed with embarrassment. Crap. So now Coach knew he didn’t even have the guys’ attention.
“Got it, Coach!” Hugh yelled back. He leaned in conspiratorially to the huddled team members. “We’ll continue this conversation after practice. If you guys are good, I might even take you on a little extra-credit field trip,” Hugh said, leading them toward the cardboard box of suits.
“Did you get your suit to say St. Dicks?” Ian McDaniel, a hobbitlike sophomore, asked, glaring at Owen as he pulled a tiny maroon suit from the box. Owen stared at him, mystified. He couldn’t even remember talking to Ian, much less doing anything to offend him.
“Ha-ha, funny,” Owen mumbled, trying to hide his annoyance. “Anyway, guys, I wanted to talk about—”
“Dude, seriously. Skip the speech. I think it’s better if we go out and get a kick start on drills before Coach comes out on deck,” Hugh interrupted. Owen narrowed his eyes at the broad-shouldered, stubble-faced junior.
“Is there a problem here?” Owen brushed his blond hair from his eyes and looked out at the swim team members. Ken Williams had his arms crossed angrily over his expansive stomach, and even Chadwick Jenkins, normally a puppyish freshman who worshipped the ground Owen walked on, was staring at him disapprovingly.
“Yup.” Hugh took a swig of his blue Gatorade and stared up at Owen. The pirate hat partially obscured his eyes.
Owen wasn’t sure if it was the bench or him, but he suddenly felt very shaky. He jumped off the bench and stood, facing Hugh so they were eye to eye.
“I’m going to quote something to you. Are you ready?” Hugh cleared his throat, clearly enjoying the attention. “Bros before hos. Learn it and love it, team,” Hugh declared, glancing around the group of swimmers. One by one, the members of the team nodded in agreement.
Owen felt his stomach plummet. So that was it—the guys were taking Rhys’s side. That’s why they hadn’t shown up on Sunday. They didn’t want to follow Owen. Not to Paragon Sports. Not during practice. Not anywhere.
“And, Owen, let’s be clear: It’s just a quote, so I’m not making any judgments on your current lady friend,” Hugh clarified, grandly stroking his stubbly chin. “But rules are rules. And you broke them. And so, no matter what Coach says, I’m wearing the captain hat. Literally. Thanks for getting this for me, little buddy!” Hugh smiled fondly at Chadwick, tipping his lame pirate hat. Chadwick grinned so widely it looked like his face was going to crack.
“Now that this is settled, let’s go practice,” Hugh said, taking off his maroon St. Jude’s warm-up pants to reveal a St. Dudes Speedo. “Let’s go, boys.”
Methinks I smell a mutiny….