Honorable Disgrace

by Stephanie N. Pitman

  “Beat that, runt,” Hobbs goaded, smacking Cory on the back. If it had been anyone else calling Cory a runt, it would have been comical. With Hobbs, well, Cory did actually look a bit like a runt.

  Cory grinned. “Piece of cake.”

  Cory removed the two five-pound disks Hobbs had put on. He added two twenty-five pounders, his smile growing with each weight he slid on. When he was done he’d increased the weight from his last lift by fifty pounds. I guess they weren’t doing the standard ten-increment increase.

  I pushed to the front of the circle, JJ following behind. Cory positioned himself under the bar, his hands placed wide. As he looked up to check his hand placement our eyes met. He slowly curled his fingers around the metal, curling them again and again, all the while holding my gaze. And then he winked at me. I tore my eyes away, feeling the rosy warmth of embarrassment.

  His friend, James, took up the spotter’s position. A knot twisted in my stomach. He was the spotter? Nuh uh, his stance was way too casual. I inched toward him, my hands curling and uncurling. That was a heck of a lot of weight.

  I could see the light glisten off Cory’s forehead, scrunched in concentration, beaded with sweat. His full lips were grimly set and I imagined myself leaning over to kiss them, smoothing away the intensity. A slow smile turned up the corners. I flicked my gaze to his eyes, their brightness directed at me. A subtle spark ignited in my core and I looked away. Could he tell how much he affected me?

  “Hey, Angie, come to be my good luck charm?”

  “Luck? You don’t need luck, do you?” I teased.

  A deep laugh rumbled in his chest, pulsating all the way through me.

  “Just do me a favor and try not to win by too much. Hobbs looks like he could be pretty nasty.”

  “Hobbs?” Cory gestured with his head toward Hobbs. “He ain’t nothing but a big ol’ teddy bear.”

  “An angry teddy bear, then.”

  Hobbs watched us, his arms folded, the muscles in his forearms tight, his dark eyes narrowed in his default expression of mild irritation. I choked on my laugh and cleared my throat. Had he heard?

  “Enough flirting, Cory, time to get serious.” James smacked Cory on his cheek with the open palm of his hand.

  The lines around Cory’s eyes crinkled and he gave me another grin before his face grew serious. He curled his fingers one more time and then pushed the bar off the rack. It slowly lowered to his chest and stopped above Cory’s throat, uncomfortably close. James had moved slightly closer, his hands in the general area of the bar if needed, but his attitude was still too careless for me. Didn’t he know how easily that could crush Cory’s windpipe? I edged forward, for what I wasn’t sure, some instinct inside screaming to do something.

  Cory hefted the weight upward, his face and neck tense, but not quite as strained as Hobbs’ had been. He held it aloft, his arms straight, then at some unspoken signal he lowered it. As soon as the bar slammed into place, my breath whooshed out. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding it.

  A mixture of cheers and groans erupted, and Hobbs purposefully strode toward me, a pinched look on his face, cold and hard. I backpedaled and collided with the weight rack. Hobbs didn’t even afford me a glance, but brushed by and knocked me into the rack again. He reached around me for a couple of five pounders. His elbow jabbed into my side as he lifted it. Cold eyes made contact with mine as he straightened.

  I’d barely righted myself when Cory slammed into Hobbs, shoving him into the rack he’d just pushed me into.

  “That’s no way to treat a lady,” Cory growled. “Apologize.”

  Hobbs struggled to push Cory off, but with the weights pressed to his chest, his back against the rack, he couldn’t. Even with the extra foot in height. Cory’s face was twisted in a snarl and he rammed Hobbs against the rack and repeated, “Apologize!”

  “She ain’t no lady. She’s nothing but a little—”

  But I didn’t get to hear what I was. Cory’s fist smashed into Hobbs’ flapping jaw. Cory raised his fist again and I grabbed it. “Cory, no. Don’t.” He stared down at me, his neck strained and tense like when he’d hefted the bar moments before. “Just let him go, please.”

  “Not before he apologizes,” Cory said through gritted teeth. I could feel his muscles flex under my hand, his knuckles white.

  A whistle blew shrilly. “Break it up, boys. Break it up.”

  Cory looked in the direction of the whistle and then let go of Hobbs, his release so sudden Hobbs fell against the rack. Hobbs curled his bloodied lip and whispered threateningly, “This isn’t over.”

  Completely ignoring Hobbs, Cory wrapped an arm around me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” My shoulder ached, but the security of Cory’s embrace made me forget the discomfort.

  The pierce of the whistle sounded again. Coach Ellis stood with her hands on her hips, the whistle protruding from her mouth. “Are we going to have any more problems today, boys?” Focusing on Cory and Hobbs, she watched them until they both shook their heads. “Good.”

  Wearing her standard blue sweat suit, her graying hair caught up in a brutally tight ponytail, she looked more like a grandma than a volleyball coach. Her lips pulled thinly across her teeth in a grimace. She paced the middle of the room, one hand behind her back, the other holding her whistle just below her lips.

  “Coach Harrington is not here, so I will be taking over today. Find your partners and head to your stations. You have a match to prepare for.” She blasted her whistle. “Get to work!”

  Everyone hustled to a station. Cory dropped his arm, his fingers trailing across my back. I started toward Jeff, but Cory caught my arm. “Angie, can we talk, you know, after practice?”

  “Sure.” Suddenly, I was unable to look Cory in the eye, despite the fact his arm had just been around me—or maybe because his arm had just been around me. I brushed at an imaginary hair on my sleeve.

  “After practice,” he repeated then moved off toward JJ.

  “Cory, wait.” I looked at him through hooded eyes. “Do you, ahh …I mean, do you want to be partners again?”

  “Definitely.” He quickly turned to JJ. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. And it’s about time, too.” She smirked and waggled her brows at me as she moved off to join Jeff.

  Cory gestured toward the bicep station. “Ladies first.”

  Uncomfortably aware of Cory’s nearness, I positioned myself and tried to direct my thoughts to my biceps curls. I grunted to curl the forty-five pound weight of the bare bar.

  “You’re doing great, Ang. Good form.” Cory’s deep rumble broke into my weak concentration and I tightened my grip, the crosshatch pattern on the bar imprinting on my palms. He was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Ang, why didn’t you call me back?”

  “Um …” My eyes fluttered open, his face just inches from mine, golden blonde hair curling softly over his forehead. I resisted the urge to smooth it back. “I … I did. Your mom said you were out.”

  “Huh. She didn’t tell me.” He shrugged. “Did you have a good weekend?”

  “It was okay, I guess.” I released my grip on the bar and faced him. There was no point continuing, I’d lost track of my reps long ago. His body tilted toward me. “How ’bout yours?”

  “Predictable. I worked on the farm and had football practice.”

  “What … um, I mean … why, uh, did you call?” I put a hand to my cheek and looked down at the floor, my pale skin giving away my nervousness.

  “Well, I wanted to ask you—”

  Coach Ellis chose that moment to sweep by, her eagle eyes narrowed. “Enough chit chat. Get to work, Jacobs, Adams.”

  I hastily moved to the next station and slid on a few weighted disks and snatched up the bar, laying it across my shoulders. I frowned as she moved off to harass another unfortunate victim and lowered into a squat.

  “Whoa, watch your form.” Cory touched his fingers lightly to the side of my outer thigh just a
bove the knee. My pulse, already pounding, thumped wildly like a fish out of water. “Don’t let your knees pass your toes. You risk injury. Especially with how much you can lift.”

  I widened my stance slightly, and shifted my grip before attempting my next rep. I knew that and I mentally berated myself for losing form. Though, if he touched me like that every time I lost form, it might be worth it. But as I descended again, I paid attention to my form, my knees directly above my ankles. Thighs perpendicular to the ground, my muscles flexed tautly as my rear jutted out, the 200-pound weight balanced on my shoulders.

  “Perfect!” Cory whistled. “You squat like that at the match, you’re sure to win us some points.”

  I grinned and finished two more sets before surrendering the bar to Cory, our hands momentarily touching during the exchange. Cory doubled the weight, and executed ten perfect squats of his own, veins and muscles contracting tightly.

  On his last set, his eyes flicked to me, a lopsided smirk starting to show before he returned his eyes forward. Sweat trickled down his temples, his pulse thudding along a vein in his neck. Finished, he racked the bar. “Next.”

  I turned to my nemesis, the pull-up bar, and shook my head. It didn’t seem to matter how many pushups, bicep curls, triceps extensions, shoulder presses, and other arm exercises I did, the pull-up bar kicked my butt. I wasn’t going to let it beat me today. But maybe I’d let Cory go first.

  “You go ahead.”

  He cocked his head and then shrugged. “Okay.” He turned and jumped, gripped the pull-up bar effortlessly and hauled himself up. Taken in by his raw masculinity, I stood transfixed. Before I realized he was done, Cory dropped to the floor, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Fifty, hoo-ah! Let’s see what you got.”

  He held up his hand for a high five. I laughed and smacked his open palm with mine. “I think I should have gone first.”

  I dragged the stepstool over with my foot so I could reach the bar. Even with the stool it took me three attempts to wrap my fingers around the bar. I hung for a few seconds. An involuntary grunt slipped from my throat as I struggled up, my chin touching the bar, my legs splitting apart. Remembering how easy Cory had made it look, I almost gave up, embarrassment making me feel heavier, but I gritted my teeth and growled. I could do this.

  Onnneee … twwwwooooo … threeeeee, huff, huff, pant, pant, foouur … and then five. Kind of. Technically it was more of a half pull-up than a full, but I’d done it. In all, I’d done six, which happened to be two more than I’d ever done.

  I dropped onto the stool smiling, my breath harsh. “Well, it’s no fifty … but it’s my best … yet. I’ll get even more next time.”

  The corners of his mouth curled up in a small shadow of a smile. “You’ve got a ways to go before you best me, princess.”

  “Princess? I’ll show you princess.” I held my fists up and pretended to jab at him. He dodged as we made our way to the next station. At the end of practice, I fell in line with everyone else, and glided to the locker rooms, giddy with the endorphins of a good work out and Cory’s flirtatious attention.

  “Angie, wait up.” He paused and reached up to rub the back of his neck. His eyes trained on the retreating backs of our teammates, the silence continued. “Um, do you have a date for Homecoming yet? ’Cause … I’d like to take you. If you aren’t already going?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “No?” He peered at me, his eyes drawn together, disappointment palpable in his tone.

  “No, not no,” I tripped over myself, and gave an exasperated sigh. “I mean, no, I’m not going with anyone.” My knees gave slightly and I pointed at myself. “You want to go to Homecoming, with me?”

  “Yes, you.” The sparkle of humor was back in his blue eyes.

  I smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  “Cool.” He smiled crookedly and pulled his hands from his pockets, nodding before he disappeared into the locker room.

  My mind reeled as I stared at the closing purple door, my mouth hanging open.

  Chapter Six

  “Okay, spill it.”

  JJ plunked her tray down next to mine and sat beside me. A bowl was filled to the brim with red squares of Jell-O, which wiggled threateningly. She ignored her large helping of spaghetti and plunged her spoon into the bowl, going straight for dessert. A jiggly red square poised at her mouth. She slurped it noisily, a pleased smile lighting her face as she swallowed.

  I bit my lip, bouncing in my seat, before my face split into an ear-to-ear grin. “Cory asked me to Homecoming.”

  “To Homecoming?”

  I nodded. A big bite of noodles were twisted onto my fork, and I stuffed it into my mouth.

  “Nice. And you said yes?”

  “Of course I did, after I got over my shock. Cory Jacobs asked me to Homecoming. And it’s still, like, a month away.”

  Her Jell-O gone, she shoved a bite of spaghetti she’d been spiraling into her mouth. Over JJ’s head, I spied Beth making her way over, closely followed by Rachel.

  “Hey, here come Beth and Rachel. Don’t tell them, okay? At least not about Cory kissing me.”

  She stared at me and then waved her hand dismissively. “Course not, silly. It’s your business to tell.”

  I broke into a grin again, my face actually hurting from smiling so much. I hadn’t been able to stop all morning, not since he’d asked me.

  “What’s with the smiling?” Rachel asked, setting her tray down.

  “Just talking about things, boys … Homecoming.”

  “Homecoming?” Beth asked, sitting down across from me.

  “Did somebody get asked already?” Rachel pulled out her phone. “It’s not for a month. Who got asked?”

  “Angie did,” JJ said. “This morning, after powerlifting practice.”

  Beth and Rachel squealed and giggled. I thumped JJ on the shoulder. “Hey, what happened to my business to tell?”

  JJ smiled, shrugging, her eyebrows raised impishly. “I didn’t say who asked you.”

  The unspoken question hung in the air. “Cory Jacobs asked me.”

  “Cory,” Beth squeaked loudly. “He is soooo hot.”

  Rachel quipped, “Lucky.”

  “I know, right?” At her words, Cory’s face came to mind when he’d asked me to the dance. I was lucky. So lucky I couldn’t quite believe it. I’d wanted this for so long, but just never felt I was even in Cory’s league, let alone he might actually be interested in me. It was kind of surreal.

  Beth leaned toward me, her blonde curls falling forward. “He must really like you, Ang. I mean … to ask you this far in advance. Guys just don’t think about things like that.”

  “Or he’s heard the rumors about you and he’s hoping to get lucky,” a voice announced behind me.

  “Liz,” I muttered.

  How had I missed her? She sat next to a girl I recognized from algebra. Sue, I think, was her name. She tittered, looking to Liz like an overeager bright-eyed puppy.

  “What lies have you been spreading?” JJ hissed through tightly gritted teeth.

  “Me? I haven’t done anything. Everyone already knows Angie’s a, how to say it delicately, hmmm, I give up, a slut,” she said, drawing out the last word, as if savoring it. She leaned toward Sue like she was about to share a secret, but spoke shrilly. “Why do you think she joined the powerlifting team?” Liz looked to Sue, who started to snicker as if on cue.

  “What—” I stopped, pressing my lips together at the look of utter satisfaction on Liz’s face. Ahh, so this was how Liz was going to get back at me. I hadn’t reacted to her stunt on Friday, so she was trying to ruin my image. I laced my fingers together under the table and gripped them tightly. Breathe in, breathe out. I briefly closed my eyes, forcing my mounting anger to ease. “Whatever, Liz.”

  Liz’s lip trembled slightly, and a small part of me felt sorry for her. She snapped her chin up. “You know, I really thought Cory had better taste. I don’t know what he sees in you—and we w
ere friends.”

  She seemed hell-bent on damaging any trace of friendship we had left. I crinkled my nose and dropped the apple wedge I’d been fiddling with. “Ugh, Liz, is that you? You stink. You really should shower after practice with how much you sweat.” She’d always been a heavy perspirer, and it was a low blow hitting her where I knew she was sensitive, but I’d had enough of her taunts.

  Liz sat back like I’d slapped her, white-faced except for two splotches of crimson on her cheeks. I frowned grimly and picked up my tray. She yelled insults and curses at my back, but I ignored her. Several paces away, Sue’s scream spun me around just in time to see JJ send a forkful of spaghetti at Liz.

  Liz scrambled to her feet, her face a frozen mask of dismay, sauce, meat chunks and noodles clinging to her pristine outfit. Liz shrieked and launched herself at JJ like a wildcat, spitting and yowling. JJ met her with a fierce smile, her fist slamming into Liz’s face. The force of the blow knocked Liz off balance, and she teetered on her heels, arms flailing before she fell hard on the floor.

  I was too shocked to do anything but stare—until JJ raised her fist over Liz’s fallen figure. And then I ran. “JJ, stop! What are you doing?”

  “She said … didn’t you hear?” JJ suddenly went slack and I fell forward a step. JJ wrenched her arms from my loosened grasp. A faint wetness trailed down one of her cheeks, her eyes narrowed dangerously. She glared daggers at Liz.

  “What’s going on?” A shout echoed over the cacophony of cheers, hoots, and encouragement to fight from the gaggle of onlookers.

  I groaned.

  Of course it was her. Who else would find me in the midst of yet another fight, all on the same day? Coach Ellis pushed her way through the milling students and paused, an eyebrow raised as if to say ‘you again’. She glanced at Liz, who was getting to her feet, her face and clothes food splattered, her nose oozing blood. She leaned against Sue and adopted a martyred look, even managing a few pathetic tears.

  The coach looked sternly at JJ and me. Liz stood out of view of the coach, her lips curved up in a smug smile. JJ kept her narrowed gaze on Liz, arms firmly across her chest.