Page 19 of Oar Than Friends

Kate:

Can’t wait.

With my renewed energy I managed to swing my feet around until they hit the floor and I sprang off the bed, while simultaneously shimmying out of my leggings and grabbing my jeans from the chair I’d thrown them onto yesterday. Replacing my sweater with the pale-blue hoodie with the C.U.B.C. crest I’d been handed in my first training session this week, I ran a brush through my hair, then snatched my cell back up and yanked open my dorm room door.

Imogen was on the other side of the hallway, opening her door at exactly the same time.

‘Hey!’

‘Hello, I was about to come and find you. I didn’t dare lie down, I’m so tired after this morning I was in danger of falling asleep.’ She pulled her door closed and locked it.

‘Tell me about it. I’d give anything for a power nap right now.’ I slipped my keys into my pocket and turned to face her, ‘Where’s Hannah?’

Imogen disappeared into the folds of her hoodie, which matched mine, and pulled it on over her head. ‘She’s meeting us there, she said she needed to get something to eat first.’

I rubbed my stomach as it rumbled, ‘I should have done the same.’

‘Here,’ she rummaged in the enormous backpack she was holding in one hand before pulling out an energy bar, and thrust it at me, ‘have this, we can get something after.’

‘Thanks! Don’t you need it?’

‘I have plenty. My mother seems to think I’m going to starve here or something. She packed me off with so many I don’t have enough space to store them.’ She shook her head with a deep eye roll as we made our way down the one flight of stairs to the ground floor and out into the cool air.

I was used to the freezing east-coast winters, so I wasn’t yet wearing the padded bodywarmer which Imogen had now shrugged on over her hoodie, but it wouldn’t be long. Even in the space of a week, as we moved from September to October, the leaves had turned an array of orange, yellow and red, laying a patchwork blanket under our feet as we headed down the path. It wasn’t anywhere near as impressive as the fall colours back home, but it did go a little way to stop me being homesick.

‘Do you think we’ll win?’ I asked Imogen as a group of guys passed us on the path carrying C.U.B.C. flags.

She pulled her long, auburn hair free from its tie, then twisted it into a messy bun. I didn’t fail to clock a couple of guys walking towards us who paid very close attention to the way she gathered up the strands and resecured it, though she was too focused on the job at hand to notice.

I’d spent enough time with her over the last week to realize that people paid attention to her wherever she went, and yet she remained completely oblivious. It was hard not to notice her, given she was nearly six feet tall, and I hadn’t yet decided whether walking next to me atfive feet one and a quarter made it worse, especially when I had to break into a jog to keep up with her strides.

If she hadn’t been so kind to me during my first few days, I’d have probably found her intimidating, but instead she was quickly becoming a friend. We were taking the same course, we were both accepted onto the Cambridge crew, and she and Hannah were the only two people I’d consistently seen.

‘Well,’ she leaned in, lowering her voice once she’d finished fixing her hair, ‘there’s no reason we shouldn’t, seeing as we totally creamed them in the Boat Race last year – it wasnotOxford’s finest hour. But I heard that the Oxford team haven’t let up their training all summer. Every member of their Blue Boat has competed internationally, half of them were at the World Championships, and they had an exceptional performance at Henley. Clearly now A.O.-C. is president they’re really going for it. I mean, they’ve already stolen the oars, it’s never been done before term starts …’

‘Who? What?’ I puffed while concentrating on matching my pace to hers. At this rate I wouldn’t need to hit the gym every day. Walking next to Imogen was enough cardio.

‘Huh?’

‘Who or what is A.O.-C.?’

She frowned and her arm thrust out to stop me walking, like a mom hitting the brake pads. ‘Wait! Has no one told you about him?’

‘About who?’

‘A.O.-C.’ she repeated slowly, enunciating each letter. ‘Arthur Osbourne-Cloud. The President of Oxford Rowing.’

‘Ohh, him.’ I nodded, coming to the realization this was the guy I’d been hearing about since I’d arrived here. ‘Yeah, I guess his name’s a bit of a mouthful. But what I don’t get is why he’s such a big deal aside from rowing. You talk about him like he’s a celebrity.’

‘That’s because he is. Have youseriouslynever heard of him? Arthur Osbourne-Cloud?’

I shook my head, ‘Not before this week.’

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