Jourdan Mathews has a secret, and she knows she needs to take this one to the grave.
* * *
Her life was never complicated: a college student with a close family, good friends, and a plan for her future as a doctor. Had that night had never happened...
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the present // the past
"Come on ladies!"
Coach Devon roars at us through the loudspeaker he carries with him on the court during practice.
"Step it up!"
I pump my arms harder at my sides, sprinting faster around the track in the rec center that we're all currently running laps on. We'd spent the hour before this practicing drills and going-over plays for the season, followed by some weight-training and now this: running. The burning in my lungs is painful, and after the eighth lap, I was sure I should've stayed in better shape over the summer, but now with one lap to go I'm gaining speed again.
Andrew flips me off as I pass him, shrugging my shoulders lightly with a grin as I keep going and then, when I reach the end of the track, I nearly collapse, wheezing.
"Honestly," Breathes Andrew, catching up to me as we're the only two finished at this point. "Fuck you man, I would've raced you to the end if it weren't for my damn knee."
"You need to be icing that shit bro." I pant, hands on my thighs as I am still bent over, attempting to catch my breath. I run my arm across my forehead, wiping the sweat off my brow and stand up straight as I rest my hands at my sides.
"I know, I know." He grumbles, bending his right leg and stretching it out again as he winces slightly. "I just want it to be healed already."
"It'll heal if you stay off it." I remind him, clapping him on the back and he nods, knowing I'm right. As much as I get it—my shoulder injury had me in pretty bad shape last season both because of the pain and because I kept playing, unable to bare the idea that I'd have something which is akin to breathing for me ripped away. But since then he and I have both had it drilled into us by Coach that jeopardizing your long-term physical fitness for one game is never worth it.
Just then Wyatt and Dawson, one of the younger players on the team, finish their laps too. Joining us in the rest area off the right side of the track near the end point.
"I definitely did not run enough this summer." Heaves Wyatt, collapsing onto all fours and rolling on to his back on the floor, eyes closed as one arm rests over his face dramatically. He did look slightly pale.
"Well, that sucks for you bro, but I feel great." Says Dawson, grinning down at him and Wyatt sends a middle finger his way.
The rest of the team isn't far behind us and soon, everyone has finished their laps and are catching their breathes in the rest area while Coach walks over, folding the speaker under arm.
"Alright, that wasn't half bad for a bunch of sissies." He says roughly, grinning at us while we all roll our eyes. He liked to give us shit but we knew he cared; he would never admit it, but he did. "Shower up, get changed and go do your homework now so we don't have to be having any unfortunate conversations later."
