Free The Boarding School Experiment by Emily Evans

or stretched like me. And, I knew they’d practiced. Declan’s refusal to rehearse unnerved me and I tried to shake the sensation.
    Eager tension helped a climb, sick nervousness hurt. I had enough going on in my stomach with Kaitlin’s Good Luck cupcake lying there like a blueberry rock. She had baked daily for practices. This morning Declan had refused his cupcake like always, his lucky cupcake; not that I’m superstitious, but still, no practice and no luck equaled losing.
    The bandage on my pinkie toe poked into my fourth toe and I wiggled them around, wishing I had time to fix it, but taking my shoe off now was too risky. If I lost this chance to go home because I had my shoe off when Kaitlin rounded the corner, I’d never look at shoes again.
    I crossed my fingers, and gazed at the screen, watching for Kaitlin’s turn to recite her poem and dance. Finally, it was her turn. She leapt across the stage, a high acrobatic leap, no shyness in her dance, just athleticism, and grace in motion. She had this. When we’d started, she had talent and lifelong lessons behind her, but even so, her rigorous practices had upped her skills unbelievably. When the final scores popped up, cheers came up from the amphitheater echoing to our level. I stared at the entry and knew she’d be running in first.
    I blew out a breath and swung my arms to loosen up. I’d practiced. I had experience. I had this.
    Feet pattered on the floor, and Kaitlin rushed around the corner, hair flying, arms waving. “Go,” she yelled in a breathless, excited voice.
    I reached for the initial anchor, breathing in the granite from the mountain’s surface and chlorine from the nearby pool. The smells were familiar because I’d been at this daily. I scaled the first section with easy sure movements. My nerves disappeared by the time I reached the boulders, and I scrambled across them with ease . Do this and you get to go home. The mantra challenged my focus, so I pushed it aside, keeping my head in the game. Using Kaitlin’s cheers to block my competition’s grousing, I enjoyed the moment: the height, the rush of power that came with a climb, and the adrenaline tempered by control. I reached the next set of anchors and heard the second contestant below me scream, “Go.”
    I smiled. We so had this. I shouted up, “You’d better be ready, Declan.” If he was sitting on the ground when I reached the top, I’d kick his ass. I stretched for a hold in the granite above me, going through the second section with even more speed.
    A final pull carried me over the ledge. “Go,” I said, still on my hands and knees.
    “How are you already here?” Declan seemed surprised.
    “Go,” I said again.
    His mouth twisted and he walked to the edge of the outcropping overhanging the deep end of the swimming pool.
    “Good job,” one of the other contestants said. He held out a hand, and helped me up.
    Good sport, I thought. “Thanks.”
    “I don’t know. Maybe, I should take the ramp.” Declan’s indecision came through his voice and I froze for a moment while his words tumbled through my brain.
    Take the ramp . Running down the ramp was the alternative to the dive or jump, and that route took ten times longer. “Fine, then run,” I said, screaming this time, not hiding my anger or frustration.
    He should have run the second my palms hit the grass if he didn’t want to jump. I moved to the outcropping, and he just stood there. “What are you doing, are you trying to lose this? Move.”
    “I’m thinking the dive would be faster.”
    The second climber finished the bouldering. Declan’s indecisiveness was eating our lead.
    “Of course it is. Do one,” I said, thinking, Jump, please jump .
    Declan went to the edge and lifted his arms overhead, staring down.
    I breathed in, my heart racing.
    The second climber heaved his body over the top. Panting, he tagged his teammate. His diver took a running leap over the side, destroying our lead.
    “Do it,” I