by Ivy Jordan
“Yes, Coach.” I ran out, and the other players followed me single file. Coach popped the doors open, and we ran past as he congratulated each of us. “Good game.” When we lined up, he blew his whistle. “Four laps. Hustle, hustle, hustle.”
My feet moved faster than my mind. I ran out onto the track, closed my eyes and let the wind rush past me. There was nothing purer or more beautiful than running. It represented self-betterment, an act of will, proving time and time again that I could accomplish anything so long as I pushed myself.
The trick was not to think. The second I thought about moving my feet, or whether or not I was flinging my arms, I’d slow down and lose time. My goal was to beat my time every day. I didn’t always make it, but I pressed myself to the limit, struggling to keep my legs, my lungs, and my heart pounding. Nothing else existed but me and the field and the track lines racing past. They seemed to curve of their own accord, then straight again, past the goal, one, two, three times. I left everyone else behind, but I didn’t notice.
Competition was nothing. The only one that I had to prove myself to was myself. The only reason I played was to hone my body and keep my mind sharp. Winning was about the accomplishment and progress, but it wasn't everything. So long as I was bettering myself, it didn’t matter.
The coach was standing at the finish line when I stopped running. “Eight minutes, fifteen seconds.” He tapped the timer on his phone. “You are one hell of a runner.” He was standing next to a table with cups and an orange water dispenser. I poured myself a cup, took a drink, and threw another on my sweat-drenched face. “You’re screwing up, Barker.” He was still facing the track with his timer.
“What are you talking about?”
“Eight minutes, fifty seconds,” he tapped his phone. “Eight minutes, fifty-two seconds. Fifty-three.” The team was running on and he was distracted. He had us line up at the edge of the field, and we went through our exercises—sixty jumping jacks, a hundred squats, a hundred push-ups, then crunches. I got through the workout easily and moved onto field exercises, relay, then a mock game. Not once did the coach take his eyes off me. I saw him smiling when I threw a pass out to Mike and he made a goal. Afterward, I looked back and he was shaking his head.
He blew his whistle. “Dress down! Hustle, hustle, hustle.” We ran single file into the locker room, and I went back to my locker to change. “Barker!”
“Yes, Coach,” I called out.
“In my office now.” I wanted to run out. Things were supposed to be simple and easy; a quick run, a good workout—playing with the guys. This wasn’t right.
The man was military with a bright red face of leather and a gray buzz cut, but he took care of himself. His office reflected his trademark discipline, a simple stack of papers in the corner, a plain metal desk, and his tablet. He was staring down at it when I walked in and sat down.
Coach kept his eyes posted to the screen. “I’ve got three emails that I’m looking at right now. Would you like me to read one of them to you?”
“Pfft, no.”
“Channing is a disgrace to this institution. Please, for the love of God, take his face off of the jumbotron and chain him to a desk.”
“Fucking hag.”
The coach laughed. “That’s not the only one. She sent me a message this morning saying that you shouldn’t be allowed to waste good government funds on a shitty education.”
“Coach…”
“I don’t care. Hamburg might be a wretched woman, but she is your teacher, and you’re about to fail her class, and she’s not the only one either. Did you really fall asleep in calculus last week?”
“Yes, Coach.”
“Give me one good reason why I should let you play.”
I turned back and pointed out the office window, where a poster with my face on it was taped to the wall. “That stadium holds thousands of people, and I’m the reason why they’re buying tickets to see the game.”
“This is a school, not a league. I have to play things by the book. If you don’t get your grades up, you can’t play. You won’t even be allowed in the locker room.”
“But—”
“No, that’s the rules. It ain’t my problem. You should be studying anyway, and Channing, I know what you’re doing. You’re holding out thinking you’ll get signed, but it might not happen. You might have to fall back on school.”
“Shit.” I got up and walked out. Mike was leaning against the cinderblock wall to my right. “You were listening.”
“Of course I was. I thought he was going to bench you.”
“He’d better not.” I started walking back to my locker.
“You don’t get it.” He followed me.
“What?” I pulled my clothes and a towel out.
“You’re blaming everyone else when what you should be doing is focusing on yourself. Did you go to the tutoring center?”
“No,” I groaned. “I know, I should’ve.”
“You are screwed if you don’t do something about this.”
“Hey, you don’t have much room to talk.”
“At least I’m working on it.” He walked off, and I slammed my locker shut to go shower.
When I got done, I toweled off, dressed, and walked out to the courtyard to call the tutoring center. They wanted me to meet the tutor early Monday morning.
Chapter Four
Ava
“Now I want all of you to look at this young woman right here,” Professor Hamburg strode up to my desk and laid a bony hand down. “Ava is the only one of you to get an A on her test yesterday. The rest of you either failed or barely passed with a C. As far as I’m concerned, she’s one of two human beings in this room.”
I wanted to drown her out, but I knew that if I did, I’d just end up staring at my phone during the rest of her presentation, so I smiled up at her. Then I got comfortable and rested my eyes on the blank projector screen.
“You know what I think you should do? Go straight up to your room and pack your bags. Why wait? You’re gonna fail. Do any of you care about your lives? Do you know what it’s like out there without a degree? You’re all gonna be living in shitty apartments, eating microwaved food—that’s if you find a job.”
I pursed my lips. She was getting worse every week. She spent 10 minutes on how badly we were screwing up our lives. Then she went on to talk about how bad the economy was, and how we were probably all going to end up homeless and starving in the streets.
The person next to me was wearing a pair of wireless earbuds hidden behind her blonde hair. She had her phone hidden under her desk and she was watching a video. I would have been doing the same thing if it weren’t for the fact that Hamburg was throwing out little bits of class info to make sure we failed if we didn’t listen to her crap.
She was the only one of my teachers that tested my patience. She spent more time screaming at us than she did going over the material. I was relieved when she finally sat back down at her desk and turned the projector on.
I took out my notebook and wrote down everything she put up on the board. I didn’t need to, but it would be easy to go back to the notes instead of flipping through my textbook when I was reviewing the material.
When she ended the presentation, Hamburg slammed her computer closed and walked around to the front of the desk. “Can anyone but Ava tell me one thing that I just said?” Nobody raised their hands. “Get out of my class, all of you,” she pointed a bony finger at the door.
Everyone rushed out of their desks and headed for the door at once. There were blank stares, downturned heads, and averted eyes. The old woman sapped all the energy out of the room. I grabbed my bag and walked out into the hall, where Nicole was waiting, leaning against the wall with two mochas in hand.
“Here you go,” she held one out to me.
I took a gulp the second I grabbed it away. “I’m dying.”
“The hag got you down?” We started walking out towards the courtyard.
“You’d think she’d get that scr
eaming at the students is only going to make them tune her out.”
“She’s just old and cranky. Where are we eating?” Nicole held the door open for me and I walked into the courtyard.
“I want something light. Let’s go get a salad.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The dining hall might as well have been a mall food court. They had all the major fast food chains and a sit-down burger place with a patio. We got our food and took it outside, where they had misters spewing a cloud out onto the sidewalk. The water caught the wind and I had to cover my burger to keep it from getting wet.
“Tell me that you’re not staying in tonight,” Nicole sat down and nursed her mocha.
“I have to.”
“You’re not coming to the game?”
I clicked my tongue and drenched a fry in ranch. “Why would I want to take a trip to the zoo? I already deal with the animals all day.” I popped the fry in my mouth and moved on to the next one.
“I’m jealous.”
“Don’t be,” I laughed.
“Who are you kidding? You spend three hours a day alone in a room with some of the hottest guys in school.”
“Why should it matter? To them, I’m just a piece of meat. They’re charming about it, sure. They laugh at all the right times and pretend that they’re listening, but it’s all an act. It’s disgusting.”
“I wouldn’t care.” Nicole ate one of her fries. “Some of those boys…” She shook her head.
“They’re animals. I’m not going to the game.”
“Frankie’s having a pool party. You don’t have to go to the game.”
“I’ve got four papers due Monday and a calculus test Tuesday. You have work too. I don’t know why you’re going out.”
“You’re wasting away your best years, Ava. You need to get out of the library and get you some. You’re getting cobwebs.”
“I’ve got priorities,” I met her eyes, “and I’m not going to get knocked up by some stoner that can’t spell. Choices matter.”
“Use a condom.” Nicole slurped her mocha with a smile. “It’s Friday. You’ve got all weekend to study, and we both know that you already have the material covered.”
“To be honest, I found a good book.”
Nicole gasped. “I knew it. You’re taking extra extra credit.” She pointed a fry at me. “You’ve completely lost it.”
“I like reading. We just have different ideas of what recreation entails. That’s all.”
“Don’t give me that crap. You’re purposely ostracizing yourself from the entire student body.”
“Because that’s what it takes to succeed.” I took a bite of my burger so I wouldn’t have to say anything else. Nicole was too busy staring at something behind me. “What?”
“Look behind you,” she leaned in and whispered.
“Why?”
“Just…do it.”
“Fine,” I turned back and caught a flash of gold shaggy hair reflecting the light of the afternoon sun. He was tall, with a chest twice as wide as mine, and a square jaw. He was also wearing a blue and white jersey with a pair of label jeans. “Why should I care?”
“Because he looks like a Norse god.”
“I don’t deal with the rich, especially when they’re under 30; some of the most vicious creatures you will ever meet, trust me.”
“It’s not about what’s in his wallet, Ava.”
“It’s about what’s up here,” I pointed at my head. “Nothing but beef.”
“I wouldn’t mind a cut,” Nicole went back to her burger.
Chapter Five
Channing
I had enough of zombies. Now I was a sword-bearing messiah, ready to save the kingdom from the dark cloud threatening them all. I finally found the cave with the best armor, and I was slashing past a pair of demented purple tigers, back and forth, over and over. They had enough HP to last me an hour. There was no way I was going to get past them, but something about the way the swords slashed through their bodies was satisfying.
One tore into my character, and he fell over—dead. “Shoot,” I set my phone down. It was barely 9 o’clock, and it was already 90 degrees. If it weren’t for my water bottle, I would’ve been dying. I slammed the rest and sat back to take a look around.
Everyone was still psyched about the game Friday night. The buzz around campus was infectious. The girls had a bit more swagger in their step, and the guys were all huddled around a table across the courtyard watching them pass.
“Hey,” Mike walked out of the dorm.
I waved him over. “What’s up?”
“Tired, man. Barely got a wink of sleep last night.”
“Was it Cara?”
“Nah, I left early. I had to study for western civ.”
“Man, you could’ve easily,” I shook my head.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not like she’s going anywhere.” He held up his phone to show the three messages she sent that morning.
“And you call me a dog.”
“At least I study.” He motioned to my phone with the words ‘Game Over’ on the screen.
“Hey,” I pulled my physics book out. “I’m studying.”
“Mm-hmm.” I looked up to see Jason’s bright red face and even redder topknot. He was standing behind Mike. “The coach brought me into his office after the game.”
“That’s nice,” I opened my book and pretended to start reading. Mike looked down at his phone.
“He said that he wants me to prepare for the next game. Looks like I’ll be practicing with you guys.” He sat down next to me. “Isn’t that awesome.”
“It won’t happen, Jason.” I wanted to jump up and bash him in the face. Instead, I kept my nose in my book. “You’re just an alternate.”
“Yeah, don’t you get tired of being a bottom-feeder? You’re like, what—30?” Mike swiped something on his phone.
“Don’t matter. I’m gonna be the one making the winning pass.” He got up and walked away. “Keep reading, Barker.” He disappeared into the science building.
“I want that guy hanging from the flagpole.” I shut my book.
“It doesn’t matter. You’ve got this. You always did. You just haven’t been doing what you’re supposed to.”
“I don’t care. I’m about done with this. The team is ready to put Jason, of all people, in my place, and I’ve got a bunch of senior citizens chewing me out all day.”
Mike sighed. “You just don’t get it. If you can’t make it here, what’s gonna happen?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Can’t give up now. We’re almost in the top 10; just one more game to go.”
“Which is why you’ve got to get your butt to the tutor’s office.” Mike held up his phone. It was almost 20 after.
“Shoot.” I laid my head back. “The tutor’s probably gonna be all enthusiastic, like concentrated caffeine. What I need is a good dose of bitter. It’s too early.”
“Just go. Don’t complain. Do what you need to do because we both know Jason can’t throw.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I got up and picked up my bag. “I’ll see you.”
The library was the tallest building at Mountain University. My first week there, they held a gala with local dignitaries dressed in expensive suits, running around with glasses of champagne. The owner of a local car dealership, Max Quebedeaux, paid to have the top floor renovated into a tutoring lab. The result was a big gold plaque with his face on it hanging on the wall across from the elevator. It looked like something from the 19th century, with his handlebar mustache and ridiculous sideburns.
The lab was a big square room with rows of empty round tables and doors to private rooms lining the wall. Near the side wall, to my left when I walked in, there was a stoner with a braided black beard and shoulder length corn rows. He was sitting at the computer behind the receptionist’s desk. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I have a 9:30.”
“Barker, right? Saw the game. That was awesome.”
“Thanks, man. Is she here?”
“Sorry, not yet.” He went back to his computer. “You’re in room four.” He pointed at a door in the corner to his left. I started to walk away. “Hey,” he growled, “go Lions.”
I gave him a half smile and walked up to the door. The place smelled like skunk weed, bad cigarettes, and rancid urine, so potent I wanted to puke. I left the light off in the study room when I sat down and let my head fall on the table.
I didn’t trust this. I’d seen people work their butts off and still fail. The game was rigged. Maybe it was only a matter of time before I failed out of class. I had no right to be in that room. There were people 10 times smarter than I was that deserved a chance at this school. The only reason I was there was because my parents made enough money to pay my tuition.
In a world where most people could barely afford a house, we had three family cars and a five-bedroom in the hills. My life was a dream. If I quit school, my dad would be mad, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He’d pull some strings and get me a job. I’d probably make just as much money without a degree as I would with one. I was at the university for football, that’s it.
I had one dream, just one. I wouldn’t be happy sitting behind a desk telling screw-ups what to do. I’d have a nice car, every girl I wanted, and a million-dollar home, but I wouldn’t have a ball in my hand. I wouldn’t have lights flashing down on me and everyone cheering. I was a star, and I had to maintain that somehow.
I pulled my physics book out of my bag and opened it up. I hadn’t opened it once all year unless I was pretending to read. Even then I didn’t really look at it. I was guessing on all my tests. It was pathetic. I didn’t know what was wrong with me.
With chemistry, it was understandable. Hamburg was always screaming at us, and it drained everyone’s enthusiasm. Just thinking about the woman got me upset. Every time she handed me a test I heard her voice screaming in my ear.
“You’re all gonna fail!”
She was just driving it in, making sure that we all walked out of this place with nothing but regrets. I got up out of my chair and flipped on the lights. There was a reason I chose to study physics.