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.
"Weinberg," he says to Francie, "your pole drop is late. Fix it."
Francie bites her lip nervously. "Y-yes, Coach."
Coach Dillon nods and steps out of the way to stand at the edge of the field. Sampson and Jesse finish setting up the bungee, and the rest of us move out of the way for the women to jump.
Katrina steps up. It's well known in the sports world that pole vaulters are a special breed of athlete. It takes a certain degree of physical and mental endurance to catapult your entire body into the sky on a bendy pole made of glass, and trust that you won't die. In fact, to succeed at pole vaulting, you need to be crazy enough to get up and try again even after you've crashed a million times. And after going to Kat's party on Friday night and witnessing the way she unwinds I understand now more than ever why she's on the team. Kat is one of the craziest people I know.
"Come on, Kat!" Bradley calls out.
Kat adjusts her grip on the pole and checks her step. And then, she takes off.
Her jump is effortless. Kat becomes a blur as she rams her pole into the plant box, projecting her body through the air. She floats over the bungee and whoops with glee. I feel her joy as she shouts – nothing beats that stomach-dropping exhilaration of knowing that you cleared your jump as you plunge back to earth. The rest of us clap and cheer, building momentum for one another. It's moments like these on the team I love most. We may annoy the hell out of each other every day of the week, but all of that is forgotten when we jump.
Irina goes next, landing like a cat. Even Chloe manages to clear the bungee, though not without effort. As soon as she climbs off the mat, Jesse hands her a small ice pack.
Francie looks nauseous as she steps up next. She glances at Coach, whose attention is elsewhere as he checks his watch.
"You got this, Francie!" Kat yells.
"Don't think too hard!" Kyle offers.
"Just jump already!" Sampson hollers impatiently.
Jesse throws him a look. He walks over to Francie and checks her grip. He's saying something to her and gesturing to her right wrist, but I can't make out his words from where I stand. I feel a pinch of shame and look down at my feet.
"Let's go!" Sampson shouts, clapping at them.
Francie nods as Jesse walks off. She takes a deep breath and jogs in place.
Come on, Francie, I think in my head. Send it home!
Francie raises the pole to her shoulders before bringing it back down to starting position. She rocks back on her heel once and begins to run. Determination lines her face as she starts to drop her pole – she plants successfully and hangs for a brief second in midair before swinging her lower body upwards. We all watch her and shout.
"GO FRANCIE!"
Francie is upside down. She twists, bending her legs over the bungee and releasing the pole. She drops onto the mat with a look of complete surprise on her face.
"I did it!" she squeals.
Bradley, Kyle, and Irina rush over to her excitedly while Chloe collects her pole. Francie presses her hands to her cheeks, looking around at us.
"I did it, guys! I didn't drop late!"
"You sent it home," I grin as she walks over.
Francie's eyes travel towards Coach, who is half-shouting at someone at the other end of a phone call. He paces around distractedly, gesticulating wildly in the air, completely oblivious to Francie's performance. Her face falls as she realizes Coach Dillon did not see her clear the jump. I instantly know how she feels.
"Hey, it's okay. He does that to me, too," I tell her.
Francie sighs and sticks her hands on her hips. "Eh, it's fine. At least we have Jesse. I don't know where I'd be without his help. Sometimes, I feel like he's the only one who really cares about us," she says.
"Yeah," I mutter, feeling guilty.
"Peters! You're up!" Sampson shouts.
I give Francie a half-smile before jogging towards the rest of the team. I avoid meeting Jesse's eyes as I step to my starting position, gripping the pole.
Send it home, I tell myself, beginning to run.
---
My knees are microwaved rubber and my body a blistered sandbag by the time I return to the dorm. I groan and drop my belongings as soon as I step into our room. All I want to do is sleep – but I need to bullshit my way through another paragraph for a 1000-word essay. And to do that, I'll need a shower. I grab my toiletries bag and slide on a pair of flip flops and head down the hall.
I shower quickly and make my way back towards my room. But halfway down the corridor, I overhear a conversation coming from #209 that makes me stop in my tracks.
"Did any of you see Cassie yesterday? She's been acting weird ever since the Ricketts party," someone says. Carefully, I tilt my head back and peer through the crack around the door hinges. It's Carissa Diamante, a business major with an attitude.
"It's because she's pissed at all of us for getting drunk," Mohan grunts. "She probably didn't expect it."
"Who cares if she's upset?" another voice retorts. It's Noah from #213. "Who is she to judge us for drinking?! She's probably full of hypocritical shit. Girls like that are the worst."
"I passed her earlier in the hall, and it felt like I was walking through ice," Kelsey's voice trembles. "I couldn't look her in the eye."
"Don't let her high and mighty attitude affect you," Noah warns arrogantly. "She's just a self-righteous bitch."
Anger like spikes ripple through me. Although I understand their sentiments, I don't like hearing others badmouth Cass. I slink into my room and shut the door. Cass has been ignoring me since Kat's party on Friday night. She's so stubborn she could probably ignore me forever, but I can't stand the silent treatment and I hate gossip even more. I need to talk to her.
Without thinking, I step out into the hall again. I pass the gossipers in #209 (who are now debating whether marijuana should be legalized) and keep walking until I reach the end of the hall, strolling right inside. She doesn't look up to greet me.
I spot her guitar and decide to pull it out to play. It's been a while since I've practiced, but the chords quickly come back to me.
Cass continues to ignore me, bending her head further down into her work.
"So," I clear my throat, getting straight to the point. "What happened with you the other night? Lee said you made him walk you home. I was looking for you."
I pick at the guitar strings, feeling tense.
"I didn't want to be there."
Her tone is clipped.
"It was a party, Cass. You knew that people would be drinking," I placate.
"You told me you weren't into that. And you drank, like a lot."
Cass's eyes brim with accusation. How does she know how much I drank? And why is she so upset? I halt my strumming and shift my weight in the chair.
"Look, it was just a party. I only had a few beers. I was totally fine."
"Where were you after the party? Where did you even go?" she probes, fixing me with a weighing stare.
Alarm bells go off in the back of my mind. I'm not about to tell her I only remember pieces of Friday night. I spent twenty minutes searching for her, thinking the worst had happened – that maybe Sampson or some other dumb senior had taken her somewhere and hurt her. But when I realized she just left, I felt stupid and disappointed. Why did she come along if she was just going to throw a fit? I decided to enjoy myself. I remember doing keg stands with Zeke and Bradley and Kat and playing rounds of beer pong with Minji. I remember staggering back to Swan Hall with Minji later that night, the two of us leaning on each other since neither of us could walk straight. I think we stopped downstairs to rest on the dorm couches, but everything gets fuzzy after that... my face reddens as I distantly recall a heavy, drunken make-out session. Damnit. What else happened that I can't remember?
I cough, feeling hot and uncomfortable.
"I looked for you, Cass. You left without saying anything. I just wanted to have a good time." I resume plucking out chords to hide my guilt. "And what's it to you if I had a few drinks? If we're talking about personal choices here, you're the one always staying up late doing work and not sleeping. You don't take care of yourself."
I don't mean to attack her but I'm too embarrassed to admit that I may have made some mistakes on Friday night. How far did Minji and I go? Why can't I remember?
"What's it to you if I stay up late doing homework?"
Cass's eyes flash with warning and her tone is defensive. Tensing, I mute the guitar strings. Does she really want to have this conversation? Fine. I snap my eyes up to meet hers.
"First of all, you don't sleep enough. You're constantly working, and you're so serious about school. It's like you put all this pressure on yourself, and then you're always stressed. College is supposed to be about new experiences and living your life. You need to loosen up and not care about work all the time!"
"At least I care about my grades!" she shoots back. "You're barely passing your classes! You don't work, study, or care about school. It's like you just do whatever you want without thinking about the consequences or who you'll affect! You said you didn't believe in drinking and losing control, but then you go and do it anyway. I thought you were different!"
Cass and I stare at each other. Her eyes shine like earth made damp from rain, and they're full of emotion. She's beautiful even when she's angry. But I don't want to fight her.
I set her guitar down and rise from the chair.
"All I'm saying is... college isn't just about work. I might not have my entire future planned out like you do, but I'm going to have some fun while I figure it out. You should try that sometime."
I step through the open door before she can respond, her words ringing in my ears... "You do whatever you want without thinking about the consequences. I thought you were different." When I reach my room, I slam the door behind me, feeling frustrated and on edge.
Tch, she's wrong. I do think about the consequences. She has no idea the pressure I deal with on the track team. How could she know? Cass is so perfect all the time, it's easy for her not to care about what others think. But it's not like that for me.
I plunk down in my chair and stare at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen. I'm in no mood to complete any essay, not after that dumpster fire of a conversation. Against my better judgment, I snatch my dorm key and leave the room. This time, I turn left and take the doors leading to the hall stairs. Jogging up one flight, I emerge on the third floor and begin to search for the room I want to find.
I knock on the door to #304. The door opens, and a small figure stands against the faint pink glow of a red desk lamp.
"Hey babe," Minji smirks.
"Ah... hey." I scratch my head awkwardly.
She halts, studying my face.
"You look like shit."
I chuckle despite myself. "I... don't want to talk about it," I tell her.
"Hm," she cocks her head momentarily. "Then don't."
She swipes keys from her desk and shuts the door behind her with a sly grin.
"Let's go," she says, swinging her lanyard and keys behind her shoulder.
Even though I have practice in the morning, I don't have the energy to protest.
"Oh, what the hell."
I follow her out of the building and out into the cool night air.
She takes me to an off-campus house near Varen Street rented by one of her chemical engineering friends. Compared to Kat's party on Friday, this gathering is smaller and much more informal. I don't really care that I don't know any of the people here – I'm just grateful for the distraction. Minji heads into the kitchen to look for something to drink while I step out onto the back porch.
It's a clear night, much like the night Cass and I sat on the curb outside Swan Hall. Things felt easier then... when did it get so complicated? The memory of Cass's luminous eyes that night flickers in my mind. Was that hopefulness I saw in her gaze then? I scrunch my jaw and immediately feel guilty.
"There you are," Minji says, appearing by my side. "Here."
She hands me a small glass.
"It's a shot," I remark, examining the cup.
"Bottoms up," she grins.
I force Cass out of my head as I take the shot. She's the one who doesn't know how to have fun. The alcohol burns as it goes down my throat, cool and hard.
"God, that's terrible—" I choke.
"Don't think about it," Minji laughs as she downs her shot smoothly.
"How are you doing that?" I rasp.
She shrugs coolly. "I've had some practice. Spent a few weeks with a hundred or so bored, horny teenagers here for summer college two years ago."
I pass the glass back to her and she cocks her head. A small smile lifts on one side of her pouty mouth. Minji doesn't try to hide what she wants. Unlike Cass, I find myself thinking. I groan, instantly regretting the comparison in my head.
"What's got you so worked up?" she chirps.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Hm."
Minji sets the empty shot glasses down on a rusting side table. She steps next to me and trails her fingers up my arm. She peers up at me through fine eyelashes.
"I'll help you forget."
She grins wickedly and spreads her hands over my chest. I catch her wrists and look her in the eye.
"I don't want you to get the wrong idea," I begin.
She throws her head back and laughs throatily.
"Oh my God, you're such a commitment-phobe!" she snorts, wriggling her wrists free.
I'm uncomfortable but I don't know why. Minji is sporty, straightforward, and maybe even a bit attractive. Hell, she's even got the right swagger and build for pole vaulting if she even wanted to do that. But a part of me is hesitant to get involved with her, even if her attention makes me feel good.
"Look, you and I don't really know each other," I protest. "What's your deal?"
"What the hell kind of question is that?" she chuckles, resting her arms over the porch railing and looking outwards.
I move over to join her, leaving a cautious two-foot space between us. Our eyes meet briefly, and I catch a glimpse of fragility in her gaze.
"I'm not looking for anything serious," I tell her.
"Me neither."
"But that's not what your body language is saying."
"Oh? What is my body language saying, then?" she advances.
"Forget it."
"Zac, look at me."
Her voice is a command and I drag my eyes up to meet hers.
"You and me, we're the same. You're an athlete, and I'm in the toughest major at school. You have no idea how hard I bust my ass just to stay at the top of my class. Sometimes, the goddamned pressure we feel gets to be too much. Sometimes, we just need to say, 'fuck this,' and let loose. That's all this is, letting loose. Because we deserve to feel good."
Her words strike a chord within me. "That's not what Jesse says," I mutter.
"Who the hell is Jesse? Your shrink?"
Minji swivels around, pressing her back to the railing so that she's facing me. Against the darkness of the night, her inky black hair and black shirt are barely visible. She studies me shrewdly before she speaks.
"Aren't you tired of fulfilling everyone's expectations? Everyone wants something from us... before you know it, you're killing yourself to get perfect grades, be the perfect daughter or partner, the perfect athlete... and you know what I say? Fuck off, this is my life."
I listen to her silently. I want so very badly to believe her, but I hold back.
"I don't know. This isn't how I was brought up," I hedge, my resolve waffling.
"Come on, where's your sense of fun?! You didn't complain about it the first time we got drunk and made out," she teases, taking a step towards me. "I know I'm not a shitty kisser."
"About that night, I don't really remember—"
Minji hooks her hands around my neck and pulls me towards her. Her mouth is hot against mine, and the afterburn of liquor sears through my lips. My pulse jumps as her small, softer body moves against mine. I'm not in the mood for games but I lack the willpower to push her away, especially tonight. Desire and loneliness do not make good companions, but I smother those thoughts as lust rears its head.
Minji pulls away, grinning at how I tense up, locked with indecision.
"Do you remember now?" she whispers, her breath boozy and warm. "Let's just have a good time, okay?"
I swallow. This is just a distraction, I tell myself. Nothing more.
"...Alright."
We each take another shot before she leads me back inside the house. Minji quickly introduces me to her friends, but I don't remember any of their names. I follow her up the stairs and into an empty bedroom, where we continue to get physical. I shut off my emotions as we move together, the night becoming hazier as the alcohol sinks into my system, making me feel numb and sluggish and good. Afterward, we readjust our clothes and stumble down the stairs to play a few rounds of some drinking game. Minji's cheeks are flushed red as she shrieks with laughter. I've lost track of how many shots we've taken... but I don't care, because I feel justified. Cass can think whatever she wants to think. It's my year, and I'm not going to miss out on any opportunities.
But when I stumble back to my room hours later, I make sure to avoid passing Cass's room in the hall. And when I wake up the next morning feeling groggy for practice, I can't shake the hollow feeling that I've somehow let her down.