The Tales of Flesh and Blood

Landon Runs Laps

One good thing about after school detention was that I had the chance to talk to Landon. I didn't know what the big guy did around here, but he was at detention enough times for it to be the first place to look for him after school.

The catch, however, was figuring out how to talk without Miss Hemsphire hearing me - she was this strict football coach who was maybe in her late twenties. Having played the sport in college, she had made varsity all throughout her career.

Needless to say, she had these killer legs. She's been known to chase students down - even those who ran varsity on the running teams. She had started out her teaching career as a nice, sweet lady, but as she was in charge of the after school detention kids (probably because she was the only teacher who could physically catch us), she was known to be a tad bit cranky. I tried not to get on her bad side too often.

There were maybe twenty of us, all sat up in the bleachers inside the school's gym, while Hemsphire sat in a student's desk facing us on the stage. Of course, I had the misfortune of sitting at the very front. I guessed this was because Mr. Horten didn't like my paragraph about what I would remember in thirty years, but it didn't change that Landon was sitting at the top of the bleachers to my far left. I kept glancing back to see him staring at me. The last time this happened, I gave him a rude gesture with my hand. Miss Hempshire decided that that would be the perfect time to look up.

"Tria," she warned, "turn around."

The loser nearly got me shot, I wanted to snap. Giving him crude gestures was the least he deserved. I bent over to the next set of stairs behind me to pick up a crumpled-up piece of paper and held it in the air for her to see. All sorts of trash could be found around here. This was one of the few times where I was able to use this to my advantage.

"He threw this," I waved the paper ball, "at my head."

"What-" Landon objected. Miss Hemsphire silenced him with a raised finger.

"Well?" she nodded to me. "Let me see."

I got up to hand her the paper. She unravelled the ball and began to make out whatever the writing said. She cleared her throat.

"Are you as attractive on the inside as you are on the out, if you get what I mean? Winky-face."

"Oh, jeesh," I said beneath my breath as the few other kids in here began to laugh. Whoever wrote that, you need practice on those pick-up lines. Someone whistled.

"Way to go, Landon," the same person yelled. I shot to my feet and turned to the bigger boy, whose face was a shade darker than a beet, torn between whether or not he should laugh.

"I'll show you how unattractive my foot is when it's up your ass," I exclaimed. I heard Miss Hemsphire sigh behind me, but I ignored her for a brief second. I met Landon's eye.

What the hell? his face said. I raised my chin and furrowed my brow, and I think he understood, just then, how pissed I was at him, because he made very little attempt to object to the fact that I just framed him.

"Okay, everyone settle down!" Miss Hemsphire yelled over the rowdy laughter. "Mr. Landon, come down here."

The bigger boy groaned, but he got up from his spot on the bleachers and made his way down to the stage. Miss Hemsphire pointed off the stage towards the gym floor. I thought it was funny, just how much he towered over her, but she wasn't fazed in the slightest.

"You can run laps around the gym for the rest of the time we have here, which is," she glanced down at her watch before looking back up at him, "ninety minutes. Ah - I don't want to hear one word out of you, or you can do it again tomorrow, too. In the last ten minutes, I'm going to time you. If you don't run a mile that's fast enough to my liking, you will run it again until I am satisfied. Now," she turned to us. "Since you all think it's funny, none of you will be leaving until he's finished. Am I clear?"

Ah, shit. I felt myself tense, wondering how many people were really paying attention, and if anyone was, if they were going to rat me out for framing Landon. No one did. As upset as I could imagine any of them being if he ended up keeping us here for long, I imagined that the small crowd was actually curious to see if the big boy was up to the menial task. I certainly was, as much as I knew that I was really going to hear it from him later.

He shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and dropped it at Miss Hemsphire's feet. He turned, glared at me, and walked over across the stage, disappearing briefly behind the curtains before emerging on the gym floor.

I wonder if this'll start any rumors, I thought, easing back in my seat on the bleachers. I could hear it now:

'Did you hear about what Hale did to Landon? Wonder what he did to piss her off.'

'He hit on her, that's what.'

'Did he actually throw that paper, though? I didn't see anything . . .'

I hoped this didn't come back to bite me.

By the time we were actually allowed to leave, I think Miss Hemsphire had pitied Landon and decided to let him off early. He wasn't a long-distance runner. Landon was a natural athlete, so he had no problem running at a steady jog for the first thirty minutes, even though he was covered in sweat and I knew it had to be uncomfortable running in those jeans.

However, once the heaters kicked in, it was the beginning of the end for him. He began to slow down, and fifteen minutes later, anytime he ran by the stage, I could hear his labored breaths, as much as I knew he was trying to control them. I glanced up at the clock. Barely an hour had passed by then. On the far side of the gym, he stumbled, but he managed to regain his balance before he could fall over completely. The poor guy had sweat dripping past his eyes, and his hair was completely matted to his skull. I glanced over at Miss Hemsphire, who was reading some book about botany. I thought about saying something to her, then thought against it. It would only humiliate him further.

So I sat back with a hand propped up against my face and waited until Miss Hemsphire called an end to this strange form of torture.