The whistle blew, sharp and shrill, signaling the start of practice. I didn't even flinch. I was too busy watching Sam, the way she fumbled with her gloves, trying to make herself invisible, as always. She had this nervous energy about her, like she was always on edge like she was waiting for something bad to happen. Maybe because she knew it always would when I was around.
Today, she was late. Of course she was. She was always late. It was like she didn't even try. I barely even noticed when Coach Willis called everyone to gather on the field. My mind was on other things-things that made me feel good about myself.
I glanced over at Maya, who was already whispering something to Jake and gave her a look. She knew exactly what I wanted. Maya and I were so in sync-always had been, always would be. She gave me a quick nod, that same smile that always made my skin tingle.
And then there was Sam, trailing in, looking lost. She wasn't fast enough to make up for her tardiness, so Coach Willis made us all run two laps around the field as punishment. Two laps. Everyone groaned in unison, but I wasn't bothered. I had no intention of running. Why should I? I was perfect. But Sam? She was going to struggle. I could already see it.
"Move it, St. Onge!" I called to her, my voice dripping with mock sweetness. She flinched, just a little, and kept her head down as she began to jog. The poor thing. Always so scared.
As we started our laps, I couldn't help but smirk. Maya was beside me, of course, but I wasn't paying much attention to her. My eyes were locked on Sam, running desperately to keep up. She was struggling-her breath quick and shallow, her arms flailing around like she didn't know what she was doing. It was almost pathetic.
But that was what made it so fun.
I pushed myself a little harder to stay ahead, but I always made sure to keep an eye on her, watching every stumble, every awkward movement. It was like she was begging me to break her, and I wasn't going to disappoint.
And then I saw it-the moment Sam started to fall behind. Her body was exhausted, her face red with embarrassment as she tried to keep up. I felt a strange, twisted satisfaction at seeing her struggle. It made my heart beat faster, and I reveled in it.
"Come on, St. Onge! Don't tell me you're going to give up already?" I shouted from ahead, my voice loud enough to echo across the field. Maya chuckled beside me, and I could hear a few other teammates snicker. Sam, of course, didn't respond. She never did.
But what made me smile was the sound of her breathing-heavy, panicked. She was scared. Scared of me, scared of the coach, scared of the whole world. Pathetic. And I loved every second of it.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the lap ended. Sam was last, panting for breath. Her eyes were wide, and I could see the tears starting to well up, though she was trying so hard to hide it.
"Aw, poor St. Onge," I said, my voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Did the big bad coach make you run too hard? Maybe you should just sit this one out."
She didn't respond, of course. She never did. She just nodded and ran off to the sidelines, hiding behind her messy hair, her glasses slipping down her nose.
I didn't even bother watching her after that. I had other things to focus on-important things. Like making sure I was ready for the championship.
But just as practice was wrapping up, I saw something that caught my attention. Sam, still sitting on the bench, was staring off into space, her face filled with that same look of defeat.
It was the look of someone who knew they would never be good enough.
Maya elbowed me, her eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Is she going to cry again?" she asked, a little too loud. "Poor little St. Onge. She's got no chance."
I didn't say anything. I didn't need to. Maya was right. She had no chance.
And as I packed up my things to leave, I looked over at Sam one last time. The way she was hunched over, shoulders shaking slightly, told me everything I needed to know.
I smiled to myself.
Tomorrow, she'd suffer even more.
