Page 32 of Clean Point

Still unsure, I crossed my arms. Jon had never let me down, neither as my coach or my friend. Even when he was poached, he’d set me up with a choice of other coaches, making sure everything was in hand before he abandoned me for the dark side. I might not trust Sarah after today, but I had to trust his judgement.

With reluctance, I nodded once.

‘Good. Glad you’re back on board,’ Jon said, a little more pep in his tone than I would have liked, before his attention turned to his PC monitor. I’d fought the urge to slump down in my chair when he’d spoken again. ‘I can’t complain too much. It’s nice to see you and Scottie on the same side of something. I just wish it was something less problematic for me.’

I shrugged off his comment, pretending it meant nothing. ‘Guess all that team building is paying off.’

In truth, I wasn’t sure why I caused such a big deal. Off court, I usually had a more levelled head. While I wouldn’t have let Sarah talk to Scottie like that, I could admit to myself that threatening to take her camera was maybe a step too far. I didn’t dare allow myself to dig deeper, to wonder why out of everyone, I’d cross that line for her.

‘Now let’s talk about how you can make it up to Sarah.’

‘Make it up to her?’ I asked, confused and a little agitated. ‘I admit I overreacted, so I’d understand if you want me to apologize to her. But she should be apologizing to Scottie, too.’

He waved his hands as if to calm me down, but all it does is feed the reawakened rage monster living inside of me. ‘And she will, of course. But we also need to keep ELITE happy and since they aren’t exactly happy about how this photo situation has been handled …’

‘They want something in return?’

‘Exactly,’ he said with a nod.

Resigned, and out of fight, the pain in my knee growing and sapping my remaining energy, I asked, ‘What do they want?’

‘Oh, don’t look so sour. You might actually like this one.’

I looked at him with a blank expression, waiting for him to put me out of my misery.

‘You guys are going off campus.’

16

Scottie

Brazil – Declan McKenna

I wasn’t sure if the trip to Lindos was supposed to be a punishment for what went down during the yoga class, but it sure hadn’t felt like it. We’d been locked up forever, working so hard with no break in the routine, that any change felt like a much-needed escape.

As we all clambered out of the rented minivan, the streets of the tiny village of Lindos too small for the car to venture any further, I took a deep breath in, savouring the salt air from the ocean and the sweet scent of corner creperies for tourists.

‘This way,’ Jon shouted, pulling our attention from the whitewashed streets and instead, leading us toward the Acropolis that sat atop a steep mountain. I was tracking the long and twisting path up the hill when I was jostled to the side, Dylan storming past me through the tiny streets.

Of course, Jon had invited everyone in the villa along, otherwise the escape out of the villa might have been too close to enjoyable for what was supposed to be a punishment.

‘Didn’t see you there,’ she muttered with a scowl. Henrik and Inés followed behind her, Inés giving me a softer expression that I chose to read as ‘sorry for my asshole friend’.

‘Scottie, can I get you a little closer to Nico, please?’ Sarah asked, no further sign of her attitude from the beach. I looked over at him, smiling slightly as I took in his relaxed demeanour, his hands stuffed into a pair of navy shorts, the ELITE brand stitched on the top left of his pocket. We were both head-to-toe clad in ELITE clothing, my entire wardrobe now overflowing with the brand. I was pretty sure Jon had the rest of my clothes shipped back to my mum’s, in case I got any ideas.

I stepped closer, walking alongside him as Sarah took some candid photos. Even I had to admit, he looked good, wearing a white linen shirt unbuttoned, with plain white T-shirt underneath, the colour matching with my own outfit. I had gone a little sportier, matching the top with a short, white pleated skirt, shoving a blue shirt on top in case it got chilly. It didn’t help that most of my wardrobe was tennis outfits, but they were cute, so I didn’t complain much. Just over his shoulder, nestled onto a small set of stone stairs, sat three stray cats, all fixated on Nico.

‘What do you think the chances of us being allowed a crepe are?’ I joked, trying to give Sarah something to work with rather than two silent people walking. After all, we were supposed to look like we were together. Or at the very least like we liked each other.

‘I can’t remember the last time I had one,’ he admitted, glancing at me for a moment. ‘Maybe never.’

My jaw unhinged in mock shock. ‘Never?’

His shoulders rose on a shrug. ‘I don’t think that much fat and sugar is recommended by a sports dietitian.’

I tsked, trying to shake his words off. Truthfully, I’d been finding the restrictive training diet … well, restrictive. There was plenty to eat, but dried fruit and handfuls of nuts only satisfied me so long. I’d been craving a burger with melted cheese and an entire order of salty crispy chips for at least a week. It was the hardest part of returning to training.

‘I had one every day for a month when I stayed in France. I tried every topping they offered in my local creperie,’ I admitted. The cafe was on the corner near my hotel, and it had turned out to be the best food for confronting a well-earned hangover.

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