“It’s how you become a national champ, Andrews. Take notes.” He laughs. “What are you even doing here?” I inquire, glancing around the parking lot. “I know it can’t be to work out.”

“I forgot my favorite shorts before leaving for break.” He holds up some gray mesh material in one hand with an impish smirk.

“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “See you around. Tell Tim I’m flattered he has a crush on me.”

“And let him know I broke bro code? Never.” Kyle winks. “See ya, Saylor.”

He heads for the parking lot, and I start running again. My pace isn’t quite as frantic as it was before, but I’m still pushing myself. I’m in the best shape of my life right now thanks to Christina Weber and her militaristic methods.

My knee hasn’t so much as twinged in weeks. When I departed Lancaster two months ago, that was all I hoped for. I’ve made soccer my top priority ever since I started playing, and anything that doesn’t advance those goals doesn’t matter. Can’t matter.

I almost trip over my bags when I open the front door. I didn’t turn on any lights earlier, and the house is dark now. I feel along the wall for the light switch and then head upstairs, leaving the heavier bag by the door. The slanting stairs creak as I drag my smaller luggage to the second floor.

Cressida and Anne’s rooms are to the right, and mine is the first one on the left, with Emma’s located across the hall. I push open the wooden door, half-covered with peeling paint, surveying my room. The air has the stagnant, stale quality of that which has been sitting for a while, so I drop my suitcase and head to the solitary window, throwing the sash up to aerate.

Fresh air circulates, picking up a cross-breeze from the hallway. I’d normally describe my room as “organized chaos,” but that’s a stretch right now. I packed for Scholenberg in a hurry, and there’s evidence of it scattered everywhere, like a tornado passed through recently.

Rather than deal with any of it, I grab a clean towel from my closet and head down the hall to take a shower. I stand under the pulsing spray for longer than usual, letting the concentrated water massage my muscles. Long showers weren’t common while sharing a bathroom with six other girls.

I get dressed in a pair of sweats and a tank top, not bothering to do more than yank a brush through my blonde hair. Stray droplets follow me as I pad downstairs to forage through the kitchen.