Gym class has always been a fun class for me. I love the feeling of my heart beating uncontrollably, of my pulse pounding in my ears, of the sweat on my skin. Most guys like gym, but I take that like and take it to another step. I love gym. It's the one class that everyone seems to forget that I'm the weird kid. I get picked for teams very quickly -- only after Adam, though. I am relied on. However, if there's ever a partner thing, I always end up as the kid you get stuck with because your friends ditched you. Ze and Galm are both in this class with me, but now that they're dating, I tend to be stuck with the unfortunate person in class.
Today we're going outside, because it isn't too cold yet and Coach Casey has a thing for being outside all the time. I walk with Ze and Galm, who hold hands while they talk. I ignore them, mostly because it's lovey-dovey crap today. I shake my head as we walk down to the school's track. We're racing today, I think, and I have to admit that I'm very excited. I love running. I'm good at it, exceptionally so. I rarely get beaten, and I only seem to get faster every time I race.
Coach Casey has us all gather in the middle of the track, on the green. She holds a clip board and I groan; she'll be picking the teams or partners or whatever it is. I don't know how I feel about that. There aren't too many of us today, as many clubs seem to be out for school trips and stuff. That means there'll be a tournament.
"Okay, class," Coach Casey says in a chipper tone. "Today, we're running. It's an easy day, just participate a little. We'll have a race with all of you, and then we'll narrow that down to ten, then five, then two." Everyone nods. "Good. Line up." I line up at the start line. I usually prefer being staggered, but of course, this is gym. I am at the very left, at the end. Someone steps next to me, and all I see are familiar-looking Reboks as I get into the starting position. I glance over to see Adam next to me, and before he can notice I'm looking, I look away and down the track. Everyone's ready. Coach Casey blows her whistle, and I push off.
I give one long huff and decide not to overdo it. I still have two other races for sure. I go at a steady pace that allows about four other people in front of me, none of which, suprisingly, are Adam. I cross the finish line in fifth, my body warm and ready.
The next race goes about the same way, except I finish in third. Adam ran it, as well, catching fourth place.
The last race before the one versus one was just as well, but everyone is tired. Hell, I'm tired. But I've been saving my energy for the final race, especially when I can tell that Adam is determined to win. The others gave up halfway through, and Adam and I jog comfortably to the finish. We are given water and a towel to wipe down with, and I place my hands on my head as Galm and Ze come over.
"You want to win," Galm says, and it is not a question. I nod once, glad that I'm already catching my breath. My whole body is aching, but I want this. I love this feeling of being exhausted.
"You will," Ze says simply. "Not even the famous Adam Montoya could ever beat you." A pep talk. It's the same every time I race. Not the pep talk, but the fact that they give me one. It makes me smile widely, like it's increasing my odds of winning.
After a while, Coach Casey calls Adam and I to the start. We have seven minutes left in class before we head inside to get dressed.
"Shake hands," Coach Casey instructs, and I turn to Adam. I've never faced against him like this, but now that I am, I find myself smirking. I extend my hand to him and he seems surprised by my confidence before he smirks himself and shakes my hand. Butterflies shoot through my stomach at the brief contact, but thoughts of the race ahead push that away and replace it with excitement as I get into position, my feet spaced forward and back, my fingertips on the ground, crouching.
"Ready!" A crowd has appeared as I raise my lower body from the crouch. All of the students want to see Adam kick my ass. Apparently, they haven't been paying attention. Casey blows the whistle and I shoot off, steady.
All is see is the track. I've blocked everything else out, blurred it from existence as I run, my breath coming out evenly. I keep myself from pulling away from Adam. It isn't time yet. I feel a smile on my lips.
This is a one-lap race, the full 400-metre dash. The others were only 200 metres, so the Rigor Mortis Bend is going to appear here. The thing about the Rigor Morris Bend is that it makes you feel both alive and dead, and it is absolutely terrifying. Your whole body wants to shut down and cease work, and it hurts like nothing else. But it's also the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. I love going through it, knowing that I've done it.
There's a part on the track that I've marked with a permanent mark. It's on the lane I'm in and I've memorized it to the point I don't even need to see it when I pass. I marked it a few months back as the place on the track where I should and can pull away. I grin the moment I pass it, and I easily pull away. My feet pound against the ground and all I can hear is the sound of my footfalls and my breath and my heartbeat in my ears. I feel sweat trickling down my body, and then I step over into the bend.
My lungs scream for air, my body is aching, and my muscles seem to have been set on fire. Logic and reason and every part of me except for my brain and my heart tells me to stop, that I'm killing myself, but I keep going anyway. I see the track. I hear the voices, all cheering on Adam, likely, but I don't care about that. I give a huff and push faster, and I pull out of the most terrifying yet exhilarating part of the race.
It's simple now. 200 metres left to the end. But Adam is close, I know, because I slowed a little after the bend. I usually am able to do so with no chance of anyone coming up on me, but Adam is surprising. But I never lose, and he never does either, so I focus my mind. But I do not speed up. Not yet.
I can feel him coming closer, behind me, trailing on my stream. I move to the side a little and he comes up beside me.
He is struggling. That much I can see. Sweat pours from his face, as it does mine, and he is grimacing in pain while I am grinning like a kid in a candy shop. I turn my head back to the track and test him. I pull ahead a little, and he speeds up a bit with a grunt. I nod to myself as we get nearer. It'll be a sprint, full-on, for the last 30 metres. I glance over at him as I speed up, and he does too, though he doesn't look at me. Just at that moment, his white T-shirt lifts up, revealing some of the pale, smooth skin of his abdomen. I feel myself trip, and I lunge forward with the momentum, still in first. I went almost face-first, and I roll across the finish line.
Automatic loss.
I come to a stop and I lay on my back, my chest heaving for air, my body angry with me. My heart is low, and I hate that I've lost. The image of his skin though, just above the waistband of his shorts, flashes in my mind, and if I could have blushed, I probably would have.
Ilost. This seems impossible, but from he looks on Ze's and Galm's faces as they come to help me up tells me it's true. My body is pained from my fall, and I know I'm bleeding from my elbow and knee and my cheek, and I have a few bruised places. I groan as Galm and Ze help me up.
"What happened?" Galm asks, looking me over for any major injuries. I ignore Coach Casey, who explains that I lost and Adam won.
"I don't know," I lied. "I think I tired out too quickly." I shrug. "I'm pretty disappointed." I mean, that's the first time I've really lost a race. Ze and Galm nod to me and head up with the class to the gym to dress back in, while I shuffle slowly, wincing. I really overdid it. My whole body aches like never before and the bruises and cuts from my fall aren't helpful. Then again, neither is the sound of Cathy's voice.
"Adam, you won, you won!" she exclaims as she grasps his arm, a whole crowd forming around them to chatter about it. Not a single person glances in my direction except to give me a glare. Whatever.
"Yeah, Cath, I know," I hear him respond. "But-- ugh, move, Cathy! Chaos!" I look up and over at the sound of my last name. He always calls me by that, so I always call him by his last name. Not that I ever have reason to call him over or anything. He pushes through the crowd and stands in front of my, and I feel myself widen my eyes. "Chaos."
"Montoya," I reply idiotically, and he chuckles, sending butterflies through me. He takes my hand then and shakes it.
"You're a great runner," he says, and I blush lightly thanking God that my face is red from exertion already.
"Th-thanks," I say. "I used to run for track. That was the first time I've ever lost." He smiles at me and I am starstruck as he winks, too.
"Well, we'll have to do this again, sometime. Maybe I'll get the privilege of seeing what losing feels like." I smoke shyly, but his warm hand disappears from mine as soon as it had appeared, as he is being dragged by Cathy.
"Adaaam, don't ignoooore me!" she whines. Adam gives me a wave before he turns around to walk easily with Cathy, and I sigh. My body aches. My skin tingles. I wince as I walk. And I feel like I'm going to throw up, though that's probably just an aftereffect of Adam shaking my hand and remembering the image of his stomach. I shuffle into school, grabbing my stuff and not bothering to dress out. The bell rings and I head off to my next class. I'll visit the nurse afterwards.
But, you know, even though I lost and got pretty banged up, I'm still happy I raced him.