Oxford Whispers Read Free Page B

degrees above freezing, the rowing conditions would be extreme.
    Rupert swiveled and stared back straight into Claus’ eyes. “I’ve trained as hard as you. I’ll keep doing so until the race. I’ll be selected.”
    Arsehole.
    The Dane gave him a shrug and returned to his warm up.
    Underneath the neoprene of his rowing suit, the contact of his mother’s wedding ring warmed Rupert’s skin. Hung on a chain around his neck, the charm injected courage into him. He ignored the underlying guilt that never went away.
    “Guys, let’s get ready,” Coach Bartlett shouted. He clapped and everyone jumped into position.
    The Oxford squad marched steadily down the inclined bank and waded into the polar water. They moved in a straight line, their gait brisk, and prepared themselves in absolute silence.
    Once on the boat, Rupert breathed in the mucky smell of the river. His stomach turned. He closed his eyes and opened them again to look up at the seagulls flying over him.
    The shrill sound of the whistle provoked the birds into doubling the intensity of their high-pitched screeches.
    For the next twenty minutes, Rupert tested his limits to the maximum.
    They took the lead early on. Another Cambridge boat chased them down, one powerful stroke at a time. Rupert blocked out the world around him, all thoughts and emotions … even the burning pain the effort shot through his muscles.
    Passing under Hammersmith Bridge, the crews clashed, their oars thumping against one another. The umpire intervened.
    After the clash, his squad lost momentum, settling into an irregular rhythm to inch forward. Rupert’s attention was now all helter-skelter.
    His mind registered details that had nothing to do with the race or with winning: the troubled sky, the choppy river, the back of his teammate in front …
    He focused on the sound of his own breathing, but failed.
    They passed the finish line, a shadow behind the Cambridge boat.
    Seconds after the arrival, his head buried between his knees, Rupert blocked a strong wave of nausea. The heavy pounding of his heart resonated across his ribcage.
    I screwed up. I screwed up again.
     
    FIFTY CREWS IN the Fours Head, and Madison braced herself for a long morning. She was already bored from looking at boats crossing the finish line.
    She sat between her friends, desperate to steal some of their human heat. She tucked her hands underneath her thighs, but the cold surface of the wooden bench they sat on didn’t provide much comfort. Pippa kept shifting next to her. Oxford wasn’t doing well, and the school’s supporters were still waiting for their first boat to arrive. “I can’t believe Cambridge is going to win,” Ollie repeated.
    How could the rowers not freeze their butts off wearing only skanky shorts? Okay, the whole race seemed a pretty grueling effort, but watching it wasn’t much fun, either.
    Looking at the fog caressing the Thames, Madison shivered. It was thicker than any she’d seen on the bayou. The whole scene could have come straight from a Victorian novel. Jack the Ripper wasn’t too far off.
    Ollie walked briskly toward the riverbank. The first boat of the Cambridge Light Blues was finally in sight. The Oxford Dark Blues’ crew was closing in as well, and the final result would be embarrassing. Oxford was fifteen long seconds behind Cambridge’s winning boat.
    Commotion exploded around Madison. Students screaming, booing, laughing, shouting.
    “Open your eyes,” Pippa whispered. Like a hawk, the Irish girl stared at the Oxford boat.
    As soon as the athletes made it to the finish line, they labored over to the shore and climbed out of their boat. The sight of the crew was impressive—all tall, healthy-looking guys.
    Madison now understood why Pippa was ready to face polar conditions.
    “So which one is your victim?”
    “All of them, but the blonder the better. See the one I mean?” Pippa looked like a kitten about to lap up a saucer of creamy milk.
    Her target towered well