This was such a bad idea. I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have come here, I thought to myself, repeating the refrain over and over in my head as I jogged along, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. When everyone else began to lap me, the embarrassment got even worse. I wanted to cry. After I’d finished my first lap, I was panting, breathing heavily. I was obviously way out of shape.
“That’s fine, you seem warmed up,” Mrs. Chang told me as I went past her, and I shot her a grateful look as the others were all finishing up their second lap.
“Thanks,” I panted, resting my hands on my knees, trying to get my breath back. I wasn’t sure if my legs hurt more, or my ego.
Five minutes later we were split up into groups. The runners were sent on a run around the school ground, which Mrs. Chang said was exactly 1.2 miles long. The rest of us were taken to the field next to the football field where the lacrosse practice was happening, which was set up with a sand pit and a circle for discus and shot put.
“I don’t have a high jump area set up today, so the four of you are going to be doing long jump today,” Mrs. Chang told them. Go warm up, I’m going to get the shot put balls from inside.”
Myself and the other guy who wanted to do shot put – who reminded me suspiciously of The Mountain from Game of Thrones – looked at each other while the three guys and one girl started practicing their long jumps, leaping into the sand pit effortlessly, like their muscles were made of elastics.
Luckily, it only took Mrs. Chang about two minutes to go back and get the shot put balls. She dropped one at each of our feet.
“Tina, I want to see you throw first.”
“Ok,” I replied, hoping I sounded way more confident than I felt. The other guy who wanted to do this could probably throw me further than I could throw the 8 pound ball. I picked up the smaller of the two that had been dropped in front of me and made my way to the round circle. I took my two steps and threw the ball as far as I could. It sailed maybe ten feet.
“Well, if nothing else, there’s room for improvement,” Mrs. Chang told me, then motioned at the other guy to have a try.
With a grunt he picked up his shot put, went over to the circle and almost effortlessly threw the ball at least thirty feet.
“Wow,” I whispered to myself as I heard the ball land on the grass with a soft thud, knowing the earth would have been indented with the shape of the ball.
“Good. I want the two of you to practice on your own. Just get used to the feeling of the ball in your hand for now, then I’ll come back and work on your technique.”
With that Mrs. Chang left myself and the other guy by ourselves, and went back to the jumpers to work with them.
Ten minutes later I hadn’t noticed that the lacrosse players had finished with their practice. I’d learned that the other guy’s name was Pete, and his father had competed in the Olympics in weightlifting. That fact didn’t exactly surprise me. He was taking a breather, sitting off to the side, watching me throw.
Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me.
“Just pretend it’s a vegetable!” someone hollered, and I heard laughter.
I turned around to see that same guy from my science class, surrounded by a couple friends. He still had his Lacrosse gear on, holding his helmet and stick in one hand. A slight gleam of sweat stuck to his forehead that somehow made him seem even sexier, a thought that I forced to the back of my head. What an asshole.
“Excuse me?” I asked, not sure I’d heard him right.
“I said pretend it’s a vegetable. You look like you do your best to avoid them, so you’ll be able to throw it further.”
I turned around and ignored the raucous laughter behind me, but my eyes welled with tears anyway. I picked up the shot put and threw it, determined not to let him see me cry, but as I launched the ball away from me as hard as I could I felt drops of water flying from my face, landing on the dry grass below.
Why does he have to be so mean?
I’d known I shouldn’t have come here. I knew it was a bad idea. It had been a mistake. As soon as the guy and his friends left, I told Pete I was leaving. He tried to get me to stop, but I waved him off as I ran back to the change rooms.
As soon as I burst through the safety of the girls sign I burst into tears. Collapsing in a heap on the floor against the lockers, I let the tears flow.
I didn’t want to be a part of the track and field team anymore.
I didn’t want to go to this school.
I never wanted to see that guy again.
It wasn’t fair. I already knew I didn’t belong. I already knew that I wasn’t gorgeous, blonde, thin and rich. I knew that I wasn’t the type of person that usually went to this kind of school, and I knew that I wasn’t going to fit in and be super popular, ever. But did I really have to have this guy turn my life into a living hell whenever he saw me?
And if I did have a bully, why did he have to be super popular, and absolutely gorgeous? It wasn’t fair. I wrapped my arms around my knees as I felt sorry for myself and cried, tears streaming down my face.
Suddenly, a door on the other side of the change room slammed.
I looked up to see one of the girls I recognized from my table in science class standing in front of me, her black hair soaking wet.