The Ivies - Alexa Donne Page 0,22
twice when you have morning practice.
Sierra and I meet at the elevators, then take one down to the lobby. No need to sneak around now. We only talk once we’re outside.
“So, uh, are we gonna talk about the shit that went down last night?” Sierra asks almost as soon as our feet hit the pathway. In the heart of winter, we walk under cover of darkness; the sun won’t begin to peek above the treetops for another two hours.
“Sorry about leaving you at the party like that.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my coat and duck my face down into my scarf, even though it muffles my voice. “I couldn’t find you. Where were you, by the way?”
“I got tired of watching a bunch of drunk idiots while I was stone-cold sober, so I took a walk.” She waves me off. “Anyway, you know that’s not what I mean. Emma also got into Harvard? Did you know?”
“Only for a bit before she told Avery,” I say. “I told Emma not to say anything, but she insisted. She was so sure Avery would be happy for her.”
Sierra groans. “That girl lives in her own universe, where she’s the smartest and nicest person, tee-hee, and how could anyone ever think otherwise? Always pushing shit too far and then acting innocent when things blow up.”
It’s a surprising amount of vitriol. I guess Sierra and Emma have never been the closest, but still.
“Emma is…” I chew on my defense of my roommate. What can I say? Sierra’s not entirely wrong. Emma does swan around like a princess and is pretty oblivious to how she affects others. Avery’s guilty of it as well, and Sierra wouldn’t speak a word against her. “Listen, clearly we both decided to see how far we could push it with ED applications. What’s done is done.”
“So you’re going to tell Avery, then?” Sierra picks up the pace to a light jog, and I follow her lead. Coach expects us to jump right into conditioning, so the brisk trek to the boathouse is our warm-up.
“Absolutely not.”
Sierra rolls her neck as she bobs. “You’ll have trouble convincing her they only gave away one spot ED.”
“I know.” I mimic her actions. “Will you cover me?”
“Do I have a choice?” She stops suddenly then, squaring across from me and locking eyes. “This is pretty fucked up, Olivia. Last night, after you left…Avery was pissed. Like, unhinged angry.”
“What happened?”
She squirms. “Nothing. I mean, she ranted a lot. She wants me to hack into Ms. Bankhead’s files to see who else got her Harvard rec. She assumed Emma was Tipton’s only outlier. I covered your ass. You’re welcome.”
“Are you going to do it? Hack the counselor files?”
Sierra purses her lips. “I don’t know. I’m hoping Avery cools the fuck down over Christmas break so I don’t have to.”
We fall back into a run, the path curving around the lake until the Swiftensell Boathouse is in view.
I pray Sierra is right and Avery will feel her feelings and deal. It isn’t worth destroying our friendship over something as stupid as college admissions. And yet our entire friendship has been based on college admissions, so…
“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Sierra says, lengthening her stride. But we’re never late, because Sierra keeps us meticulously on schedule. There’s no one on the path ahead of us, and as I suspected, when we get inside, it’s clear we’re the first ones here.
The Swiftensell Boathouse is not exactly a boathouse. More like a state-of-the-art training facility. It was built fifteen years ago, about fifty feet from where the original boathouse still stands. We use that one for extra storage now. Swiftensell is three stories high and multifunctional. On the ground floor is every piece of gym equipment imaginable, from weight machines to treadmills to custom indoor rowing tanks that sit alongside dozens of ergs.
Upstairs are sleek locker rooms equipped with rain showers and steam rooms, so you can sweat out the day’s practice before heading down the hall to one of three conference rooms-cum-lounges. In season, we gather around large tables and Coach runs over practice and race footage on the one-hundred-inch 4K Ultra HD TV screen. I really should be a better athlete, given all the amenities.
Downstairs are the boats in a half dozen cavernous bays whose doors open onto docks right on the riverbank. From November to January, we do the majority of our training inside, away from the harsh hand of