The Training Sessions [ON HOLD]

Transmission Two: Ouch

I was dreaming.

I was a kid again, and I was at the park with my parents. I was wearing a yellow sundress and black flip-flops, and my hair was long and silky, with no trace of the bleached streak. My parents were chatting and laughing as we walked, and both of them held my hand. I wasn't paying attention to what they were saying, by I knew it wasn't anything important. Up ahead of us, another family was walking and holding the hands of a little boy. He had copper hair and he was wearing blue jeans and a gray checkered shirt. He turned around and looked straight at me with bright green eyes. Opening his mouth, he let out a high pitched scream, short and sharp, then another, and another. "Shut up!" I yelled, but he just got louder and louder.

I rolled over and fumbled my phone, trying to turn off the alarm. After pushing every button and key I could find, the alarm was still blaring. In my frustration, I threw it away from me, hoping that would make it stop. OK, so maybe I'm not the most...awake...in the morning. I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed. Or at least I tried to - I had rolled myself up on the covers as I slept, and now looked like a burrito's cousin. I disentangled myself and walked over to my bright yellow smiley face beanbag, where my phone had landed. I picked it up and fixed the shiny red cover. Turning off the alarm, I walked to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.

My hair was a rats' nest, my face was pale, and my eyes were pink. Oh I was going to need a lot of work to look presentable for training. I checked the weather on my phone and saw that it was supposed to be a high of 94 degrees today with 87% humidity. Oh this was going to be awful. I searched through my closet and found a formfitting white tank top and purple shorts, and after I had changed, I started on my hair. I hadn't brushed it in 24 hours, and it was tangled to hell. I was dragging a brush through the snarled mess when my phone rang. Carrie Underwood's Cowboy Casanova started playing and I spooked, hitting my head with the brush.

Cursing under my breath, I looked at the caller ID, already knowing who it was from the ringtone, and saw it was Bryce. "What?" I snapped.

"Just making sure you're up and ready," he said, and I could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Well I certainly am now if I wasn't before, so thank you for that," I said.

"Good, I wouldn't want you to be late for our twenty mile run."

I almost dropped the phone. "Excuse me? Could you repeat that please?" I squeaked.

"I wouldn't want you to be late for our short twenty mile run," and I could just picture his crooked little grin as he said that. He was trying to get to me, I knew it, but I couldn't resist the bait.

"Bryce, honey, if you think I can run twenty miles in this heat and humidity, you are clinically insane and need to start seeing a therapist for your delusional ideas," I said, with a little bit more acid then I meant.

"Yes, well, I do occasionally hear voices, so maybe I do need a shrink, but hey, no one's found out yet, so keep it a secret." He somehow sounded perfectly calm and collected, like the idea of a twenty mile run was completely normal, and like my reaction to the thought was absurd.

"OK, well, allow me to get ready and I'll meet you," I sighed into the phone.

"Alright, meet you in ten," he said right before he hung up.

'Wait, ten...?' I looked at the clock and cursed - I had ten minutes to be dressed and meet Bryce. Oh I really, REALLY needed to start keeping track of time, this was twice in less than 24 hours that I was rushing to get ready and not be late for something. I pulled the brush through the knots with renewed energy, brushing it until I was satisfied that it didn't look awful. I threw my long hair into a quick bun and grabbed my sneakers.