What We Take Away

Chapter 10 | Zac

October 3rd, 2005

My jaw clicks as I stifle another yawn. Monday arrived too fast. I barely made it to weight training this morning, and I was so tired I came back to the dorm and slept through calculus.

It's jump day at practice. Now that the last bit of summer heat has gone, practice is more pleasant. A breeze whips around Grayhorn Stadium, where we stretch and warm up by the pit. In the distance, Coach Dillon confers with Coach Mackey, and Coach Friedman, both of whom look grim-faced. From this angle, I can tell by his coiled posture that Coach D is pissed. Behind them, Eric, Zeke and the rest of the runners run murderous drills up and down the track.

I pull my right arm across my chest and blow out a breath. Practice is going to suck today.

"I can't believe you brought your whole damn building to the party on Friday," Kyle snorts, stretching his quads. "Who was that tiny Asian chick with you? She even drank Irina under the table," he guffaws.

"Shut up, peasant," Irina grins. Small and strong, Irina trained as a gymnast before venturing into the pole-vaulting world. "You screamed like a baby when the floor caved in! Our landlord was fucking pissed. We're lucky Kat's dad is loaded and agreed to just pay for it..."

"So, what was her name?" Kyle eggs on, shoving Irina away.

"Her?" Irina interjects with curiosity.

"Zac's got a girl?!" Bradley hoots, joining us. I sigh with exasperation.

"No, it's not like that. Minji and I are friends—"

"Ooh, Min-jiiiii!" Kyle sings out, waggling his eyebrows. "It didn't look that way to me! She was all over you, dude! Where'd ya go afterwards? Your place? Her place?"

"Nowhere," I say emphatically. "She's just a friend."

My teammates howl and exchange a look of delight. Jesus Christ, not now, I groan inwardly as Sampson marches up to us.

"There he is!" Sampson booms. His face splits into a wide grin as he looks me up and down. "You look better today than you did on Friday, Peters. Those keg stands were spectacular!"

Kyle and Bradley snicker. Sampson plants a hand on my shoulder in a forced, paternal way. "You're one of us now!" he declares.

From the corner of my eye, I see Jesse standing off to the side of the pit, talking with Chloe. His eyes dart towards me momentarily, but I glance away. It was just a harmless party, I rationalize in my head. But I don't like feeling as though I've let Jesse down. 

"Don't mind him," Sampson waves his hand dismissively. "Montes isn't fun like you."

Just then, Coach Dillon walks over towards us. Beneath his usual black shades, a perfectly terrifying frown is carved across his mouth.

"What are you all standing around for? Pole drills, now! Stay long, and stay behind the damn pole," he barks angrily.

Here we go, I grumble to myself.

All nine of us hustle into position. Jesse goes first – he takes off running, plants deep and swings lightly over the pit. Chloe sails on after him, not missing a beat. One by one, we follow suit, gearing our bodies up for full jumps.

Little by little, our pole drills increase with intensity. We take turns running and leaping over the pit, jumping with an extension, and then jumping with a half-turn at the top. As soon as one person tumbles off the cushioned mat, the next person begins to run.

"Alright. Bungee jumps, women first. I want good, basic technique here," Coach announces impatiently. Like a hawk, he snaps his head towards the female vaulters.