Her uncle’s boat zipped by them, and it was like the wind being taken out of her sails.

“There’s still the rowing race!” she snarled, jerking the line and cutting close past some fop’s boat … which veered, and then careened into the pier, goat and all.

She looked to the wreckage, glanced over the crew, then pasted on a smile.

“There’s-uh, there’s still third place!”