Blackstone Academy: The Rogue

39. Troy Roman

Troy P.O.V

Date: December 13, 2238

"Ready?!" Mr. Armstrong asked again, pointing down at us on the starting line from on top of the platform.

Jax stood to the right of him, eyes focused straight ahead on the thick braided rope suspended down from the platform.

He seemed as ready as he was ever going to be. At least to me. However, Stacy's words haunted my memory.

Have you forgotten that the first event is a relay race? So it won't matter how fast, strong, or whatever you are if your partner completely screws up.

She was right. Ultimately, if we won or lost, it would fall on Jax's shoulders. And as much as I believed in him, it wouldn't amount to anything if he didn't have faith in himself.

Mr. Armstrong's voice broke through my thoughts. "Set. Gooo!"

I took off to the first obstacle with the other's not far behind. Mere milliseconds probably separated us, not nearly enough to gain a clear lead. But it was enough for me to reach the pit first. Dropping onto my hands and knees in the thick, nearly black mud, I crawled forward onto my belly. Barbed wire hung overhead, keeping me low to the ground with every move.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins, pushing me through the prickly passage with relative ease. An uproar sounded from the crowd as I pulled my lower body clear of the sharp barbs, unharmed.

Fuck 'em.

I got to my feet, grabbed the two sandbags off to the left side- both weighing roughly thirty pounds each- and rushed toward the platform. My legs pumped harder at a glimpse of Maverick in my peripheral vision. Shit! The extra weight wasn't a problem, but I needed to find a way to put a wider time gap between us.

I gritted my teeth, sprinting up the ramp with the sandbags clenched between my hands. The metal ramp shook and rattled under my heavy footsteps until I reached the top.

"The Sophomores are the first to reach the platform. With the Juniors right behind them and..." I shook my head, drowning out the rest of Mr. Armstrong's words as I dropped one of the sandbags onto the lift and the other down by my feet.

"You got it, Jax!" I encouraged him, clapping him on the back.

The corner of his lips tilted upward as he grabbed the rope leading down to the ground on the other side of the field. As he climbed down it, I worked the ropes to the manual lift, lowering the sandbag.

A sudden burst of biting air blew and violently swung the rope back and forth. Jax's body trashed in the wind like a rag doll as it threatened to toss him to the ground. He tucked his head against the rope, waiting for the wind to stop blowing.

Come on, come on. I repeatedly chanted as my jaw clenched and fingers flexed, aching to continue.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I peeked at the other teams. Each of their partners also dangled from the ropes, waiting.

I released an exasperated breath at the inches separating them from Jax.

As the wind lessened, Jax's head shot up, and he quickly shimmied down. When his feet touched the ground, he turned and bolted towards the lift.

"Got it!" He screamed over the crowd's roar, grabbing the sandbag.

Quickly pulling the ropes, I raised the lift back up to the platform. A pleasant burn spread across the back of my shoulders with each tug.

"The Sophomores and Juniors and Seniors each have one bag on the ground." Mr. Armstrong exclaimed furiously, pacing behind me.

I growled, grabbing the last sandbag sitting by my feet, and dropped it onto the lift. My brow furrowed as I quickly tugged on the ropes, sending it soaring to the ground. Jax snatched the sandbag, turned, and ran for the end of the field.

"The Sophomores are in the lead!" Mr. Armstrong yelled, and the screams from the crowd rose.

"Go, Jax!" I cheered, swiping my arm across my forehead and backing up towards the ramp. Reaching the edge, I turn around and head down.

Not far from the end, Mr. Armstrong suddenly shrieked."The Seniors win! The Seniors win!"

What?! My foot slipped as I stepped off the ramp, jerking my head towards the screen to watch the replay. A frustrated groan slipped free as a streak of blue flashed past Jax, crossing the line before him. Fuckk.

A sweaty arm wrapped around my neck, pulling me in for a hug while I stared at the screen. "Second place! You see it?!" Jax asked.

"Yeah. You did good, Jax. Real good." I patted his back, dragging my eyes away from the screen.

"Ye-"

A heavyweight piling onto our backs sends us to the floor. Jax groaned as his back slammed into the ground underneath me. I pushed up onto my hands to roll off him, but before I could, more weight piled on top of us, shoving me back down.

My wrist buckled underneath Jax, and I fought the urge to cry out at the sharp, pulsating pain.

"Troy?" Jax called, noticing my strained expression. "You okay?"

I shook my head and panted out. "My wrist."

"Shit."