We jogged at a leisurely pace around the track, warming up our muscles for the harsh training ahead. Crowley was watching us with her clipboard in hand. She was probably taking notes on Newton.
We were at the front of the pack, and sensing her keep her pace next to me made me somewhat annoyed. I was a bit out of breath, and she had barely dropped a sweat.
"You're slowing down, Newton," I hissed at her with my eyes still fixed on the path ahead. I could feel her turn to look at me, and she began to speed up. I'm a sore loser. I hurried my pace to match hers and soon we were far ahead of the pack, and only getting faster.
"Hey, this isn't a sprint - knock it off, ladies." Crowley shouted from behind but I could barely hear her.
All of a sudden, I tripped and landed on the floor, my wrist making hard contact with the track. Ouch. It hurt like a bitch. I squeezed the pounding wrist with my other hand and leaned back, resisting the throb.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" She had stopped and walked back. Everyone else continued running as if I wasn't there.
"You pushed me," I snapped at her. I knew she didn't, but it just came out.
"No.." Her voice was faint. "I didn't..."
