Page 27 of The Comeback Summer

“Is she the one you asked to join our team?” I ask once Katy is out of earshot—which only takes a few seconds.

“No,” Hannah says, and I exhale in relief. I don’t think I can handle that much pep when we’re in the literal trenches.

Beside me, my sister brings her finger to her mouth and starts worrying her cuticle.

“Han?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, her voice an octave higher.

“Hannah... what did you do?”

“Well,” she says, stalling. “We needed a fourth. And I didn’t exactly ask him—but I couldn’t say no, and it really will be good for our team.”

“Who will be good for the team?” I ask, dread welling in the pit of my stomach.

A puff of air leaves Hannah’s lips, and the sound it carries sounds an awful lot likeJosh.

“You didn’t.” I gasp, horrified.

“Let’s keep moving,” Hannah says, picking up the pace again.

I scurry after her. “What on earth were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Hannah admits. “But he offered... It’ll be fine.”

Fine, my ass.

“He’s athletic and strong—which will help us, especially for the wall climb and the Ladder of Doom—and he’s got that...”

A whisper of a smile crosses Hannah’s face and I hope she’s not thinking of that asshat’s muscles. It was one thing to know he’d moved back to Chicago—it’s a big city—but this stupid race is going to give him a built-in excuse to see my sister.

He’ll probably talk her into going running with him—get her all hot and sweaty on the streets before he tries to get her all hot and sweaty between the sheets.Ugh.No. He can’t do this. Especially not now, when Hannah is about to embark on a journey to find her one true love.

“You’re not going to train with him, are you?” I ask.

“What? No. I mean, I don’t know. We’re on the same team.”

Which is a nonanswer if I ever heard one. But following that logic, he’s also onmyteam. Which means I could train with them, keep an eye on them, and make sure the one and only secret I’ve ever kept from my sister doesn’t come out.

Hannah’s smart watch beeps.

“Two and a half miles,” she says, and I realize we’ve accidentally picked up our pace.

Apparently nothing makes time fly like pure rage.

Twelve

HANNAH

“I hate you.”

Those are Libby’s first words to me as I peek in her bedroom. We’ve completed a full week of training for the Down & Dirty, a steadily increasing program I developed of high-intensity interval training, endurance, and strength. I’m also throwing in some unique exercises recommended in the Down & Dirty training forums; yesterday we went to a playground near our apartment to practice the monkey bars.

“It’s time for our Saturday morning workout!” I say, trying to sound cheery.

I’m rewarded with a groan from the lump of blankets on her bed.

“My body is on fire,” Libby says, her voice muffled. “I hurt in places that I didn’t even know it was possible to hurt. My shins hurt. My scalp hurts. The little, tiny muscles around my vaginahurt.”

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