Rewired

Chapter 1: Watch Your Step

This sucked. And I mean this really sucked. I had been a runner since I was 12 years old, and this sport was literally like food or water to me, but Fulton Hill was a steep grade that dragged on for at least half a mile.
     The legend said that an Indian had once jumped over the side of the hill on horseback to avoid being captured, and to tell you the truth, that decision was starting to sound pretty good right about now.
     As I topped the hill for, no joke, the third time in a row, I paused for a moment to catch my breath. At least the view was nice up here. Fulton Hill overlooked the city of Wheeling, West Virginia, and you could see the Ohio Appalachian foothills from here, too. The once active town of Wheeling had died down over the years, but the Ohio River flowing underneath the iconic, cable suspension bridge sure was a beautiful sight.
     Just a few seconds behind me, I saw a long, blonde ponytail bouncing over the edge of the road, followed eventually by the rest of my best friend. Maybe my best friend after today. I was still becoming increasingly pissed at her with every step I took.
"Layla!", I complained for what seemed to be the thousandth time as we started back down to the bottom, "Why the hell did you have to complain about running intervals! I'm dying!"
We were originally supposed to be running 400's on the bike path in Wheeling, but given that it was 94 degrees outside, Coach Simms had caught some serious huffing and eye rolling when he'd given us today's workout. Still, most of us knew better than to open our mouths. Complaining never went over well with our Division I distance star of a track coach. He had run for the University of Florida, so heat, humidity, and feeling near-torturous levels of pain in general were just a day in the life to him. So when Layla had opened her mouth about how 94 degrees was too hot and he was going to kill us, it was a nice, long jog to the hill.
"Marielle, I know! You think I'm not ready to keel over, too?" Layla shot a death glare in my direction, which I gladly returned.
"It's your fault, though", I reminded her. "You had to open your mouth"
We continued to jog, as slowly as possible without looking like we were slacking off. You would think that this downhill would feel good, and it was definitely better than up, but my feet were staring to rub uncomfortably against my well-worn New Balances, and I was sure that the blisters at the tips of my toes were coming back.
"Look, I'm sorry", Layla finally conceded as we neared the bottom of the hill, "but this has got to be the last one. There's no way Coach Asshole is going to send us up again. Carlie looks like she's about to pass out"
I looked up just in time to see Coach Simms turn around and cross his arms in front of his broad chest. The man honestly looked more like he'd been in the mafia than on a college track team, with his short, black haircut and slightly tanned skin.
     Oh shit, that was way close to earshot. Crap, crap, crap. Please don't let that glare be for us, I prayed, but as my luck would always have it, Coach Simms aimed his narrowed brown eyes in our direction.
"Brooks, Cavalli, you got time to talk, you got enough wind to get back up that hill! On the line!"
So much for this being the last interval. By the time we finished the run and got back to Riverside High School, I don't think I had a single muscle fiber left that wasn't sore. Those blisters had turned out exactly how I'd thought they would, too. As I trudged back to my car, I was thinking of a nice, hot bath and was certain I'd fall dead into sleep tonight. And then my foot caught a pothole, and my face met the pavement- hard.
     "Walk much?", I heard a voice call out from behind me. I didn't recognize the voice right away, but when I looked up, I knew exactly who it was. Sammy Carson had the most perfect green eyes that I'd come across in my seventeen years. Realizing that I had been staring just slightly too long to be normal, I casually shoved his outstretched arm aside and said, "What the hell is your problem?"
     Sammy had been in a few of my classes, but we hadn't been close by any means. This was mostly because I ran distance and he focused mainly on field events. I could probably count on one hand the number of times we'd spoken, and after both falling and gawking at him like he had two heads or something, I was guessing things were going to stay that way.
     "No problem", he said, brushing my attitude off, "just helping out the under coordinated before you eat any more asphalt"
     He chuckled at the statement, clearly amused with himself as he hauled me up by the arm. "Whatever, Sammy. Thanks for the chivalry", I said as I rolled my eyes. "See you later"
     With that, I unlocked the car, rolled my window down to get some airflow going. My legs protested as I lowered myself into the drivers side and I cursed Coach Simms under my breath. Yup, that long, hot bath definitely needed to happen. I was exhausted.

     Okay, so votes and/or comments would be appreciated if you like the story! I swear I'm going to chill with the running, so stick with it to about chapter 4/5 if you aren't all that into track!
     Thanks for reading!!!
-mooseymoose