Dropping Like Spies - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Fifteen

Most of the boys hit the showers, carrying their bags over their shoulders and into the locker room.  Some of them skipped the showers altogether and just ran to dinner.  I stayed behind and wrapped some tape over my hands.  “Whatcha doin’ there, Cap?” Bill asked me.  “You comin’ to dinner with us?”

I shook my head, testing the stickiness of the wrap.  Not bad.  It’d probably get me through a few hours.  “I’ll catch up with you in a while.  I think I’m going to stay behind and get a few more minutes in.”

Bill nodded like he thought it sounded good to him.  Will, on the other hand, stayed still.  “You sure?” said the leaner of the two boys.  “I’m pretty sure the meat in the cafeteria is identifiable tonight.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be salad,” Bill mutter, not sounding very convinced.

I couldn’t help it.  I laughed.  They could always make me laugh.  “I’m sure, guys,” I said.  “Just a few more minutes.”

Will studied me for a moment longer, but then his stomach growled.  “Alright, Cap.  We’ll save you a seat—nice work today.”

He was speaking as a Captain, not as a friend.  If he were speaking as a friend, he would have told me just how much I’d sucked.

But he didn’t have time, because Bill as already running off towards the Mess Hall and the two of them are practically attached at the hip.  Wherever one went, the other wasn’t far behind.

But I was behind.  I was really behind. 

I jumped up to grab the bar on the far wall.  It was a sleek metal rod, resting horizontally on its supports.  If a person were big enough, they might get stuck in the space between the rod and the wall, which might be why I liked this pull-up bar more than I liked all the others.  None of the boys fit on this one.  It was all my own.

I like to count in groups of ten.  It’s easier to break up a workout that way.  Sometimes, when I’m really tired, I keep track with fives.  That night, I used fifties.  I was already through three groups by the time someone came to check on me.  “That’s funny,” he said.  “I don’t recall assigning any extra workout time.”

Mr. Hughes walked into his training room in the same way he had so many times before—coffee in hand and looking like some sort of dream.  It was nice to have him back.  Will makes a good Captain and all, but I can only take so much of student leadership before I want to punch someone (which, at my school, is a dangerous thing to want to do, because other people punch you back really, really hard).

I pulled up on the bar, my arms turning to flame as I lifted myself.  “Finn O’Reilly kicked my ass today,” I explained, letting myself down again.

Hughes smiled.  “Finn O’Reilly kicks your ass every day, Virgo.”

“It was different today,” I said.

He set his coffee down on the first-aid station, walking over to me.  He must’ve decided that my pull-ups looked too easy, because he grabbed my ankles, adding a bit of resistance.  He always did this when I did pull-ups. The way he saw it, if he couldn’t get me to stop, then he would make it harder to keep going and maybe make me just a little bit stronger in the process. “And why is that?”

I pulled up against his extra weight.  “He knew what he was doing,” I said.  “He guessed every one of my moves—what kind of Junior Captain am I if someone can guess all of my moves?”

“You have gotten a bit set in your ways,” he admitted.  Great.  Even Mr. Hughes knew what my next move was going to be.  Why hadn’t he told me?  I would’ve switched things up if I’d know that I’d gotten predictable.  “But that doesn’t make you inadequate.”