Jeon Jungkook is Korea's next gymnastics hopeful, preparing himself for the 2012 London Olympics. With the competition months away, Jungkook's coach pushes him into an American training camp in the state of Arizona where he will train alongside only...
That's a funny question. The thing is, I haven't really been hungry lately. Whether it's because of the disturbing thought of throwing up again or because my mind is scattered these days, food is far from my mind. At one point, I would've been glad for this change. No weight gain other than muscle is acceptable gain. Even then, muscle can become unfitting and bulky.
"Yes." I lie.
What good would it do tell her about my strict habits? I'd be force-fed, and I don't want that. As long as a leotard can cover up the bony expenditures that Costa frequently comments on, I will continue controlling my weight. I have to.
"Okay..." She sounds hesitant to leave the topic, but eventually bows to my disinterest when I grant her a bored smile.
"So am I done here? I think I have lunch soon."
There, that will get her off my case. What better way for the patient to be set free than to attain the suggested cure of his ailment? Food, Trainer Snowden. Hear the word and disregard the numbers. You can't keep me long from sustenance unless you want to dive into mistreatment.
"Yes. For now." She allows me to get up, writing a few things down in her notes. Like Kan and all other trainers throughout this complex, note-taking is a mandatory function. Annoying, but understandable.
"Enjoy your lunch."
"Thank you."
I slide off of the chair and stand up. As I walk over to the door, a dangerous yet alluring topic pounds at the front of my consciousness. I turn to face the trainer.
"Wait...you wouldn't happen to...um." Should I be doing this? "Be Leonardo Costa's check-up specialist too...?"
Snowden's aura shifts to that of curiosity. "Why yes. I am. Is there something about him I should know?"
Fuck. Fuck. Should I be doing this?
Is it any of my business to report abuse at an institution that might take it all away from Leonardo? I promised to tell no one, and yet...no...that's his father, his coach. If I report the screaming, the physical abuse, the controlling behavior...I could ruin it for him.
I won't tell.
"Uh...no I don't have anything to tell you. I was just worried about him is all. He seems a bit disorganized in his sleep schedule, since we room next to each other, and um..."
Snowden halts my awkward prattling with a hand. "I see. If you want some tips on how to get into a good sleeping schedule or some natural remedies to aid in restfulness, I can help educate you."
For the next four minutes and fifty three seconds, I'm left to hear a lecture on sleep. But I don't mind.
It's not like I want to go in the cafeteria anyway.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
