What We Take Away

Chapter 6 | Zac

"Yeah, yeah."

I drop the dumbbell and rise. Just as I turn to walk to the nearest weight rack, something—no, someone—shoves me hard from behind.

"Didn't see you there, Freshman," Sampson jeers. His gaze lowers to the weight in my hand. "Is that what you're lifting?"

Before I can reply, Sampson barks out a laugh.

"You're a toddler," he snickers. "Kyle's lifting more than that even after the weekend he's had. Isn't that right, Kyle?" he shouts across the room.

Several guys holler and whistle as Kyle sits up from another machine. His face is red and shiny with sweat. He lifts an arm in our direction and gives the finger to Sampson, who smirks.

"Kyle loosened up after his second keg stand. He spent the rest of the night getting laid," Sampson snorts. His ice blue eyes flick towards me. "You should've been at Kat's with us. It's tradition."

"So you've said," I mutter, scanning the rack for heavier weights.

"You won't jump for shit if you don't bulk up," Sampson retorts, thrusting a pair of 35-pound weights at me. "I'm just looking out for you."

"...Right."

Sampson leans his face close to mine.

"You should come out next time. He won't ever tell you this—" Sampson jerks his head towards Jesse— "but your performance out there will ever only be as good as how much you're a part of the team. You need us. We're your family, now. So do yourself a favor and come out on Friday night. And bring some girls. The hotter, the better."

Sampson claps me hard on the back as he walks away. I clench my jaw and grip the weights, feeling rough, scored metal dig into my palms.

"You good?" Jesse asks when I return.

I lower myself onto the bench and avoid his gaze.

"Yeah."

"He's not worth it," Jesse mutters.

I exhale forcefully and press the weights upwards. Damn, these are heavy.

"I know," I grunt.

But as the words leave my mouth, a shadow of doubt crawls into my mind. What if Sampson is right? I really want to impress Coach and my team this year. But spending more time with the track team means less time spent with my friends in the dorm, and around Cassie. Will Coach Dillon finally notice me if I jump better than before? Besides, it's just one party. What could possibly happen?

My arms and shoulders burn as I push through the reps, but I keep a straight face. The last thing I want is for Sampson to know that he's getting under my skin.

---

I have no afternoon classes today, so I lazily attempt to finish my calculus homework before heading to practice. I hated calculus in high school, and I hate it even more in college. Our section is taught by a teaching assistant named Hasan, who gives us frequent homework and insists on weekly exams. As much as I try to stay focused in class, I always end up zoning out. Sighing, I flip to the back of my textbook in search of the answer key, but the solutions don't help at all. I knead my temples and groan. What did Hasan say to us about solving these equations? Something about a chain rule... what the hell is the chain rule?

Across the room, Lee chuckles out loud at something on his laptop screen. For a mechanical engineering major, he sure spends a lot of time doing nothing. I've yet to see him open a textbook, write a paper, or study. He's either an idiot or just insanely smart.