I'm Not a Whore, I'm a Leech

I'm Not a Whore, I'm a Leech (Chapter Four)

I am jolted awake by someone prodding me in the side. I am not one to allow people into my personal space (unless it’s for business purposes of course). I immediately slip my hand underneath my pillow and grab my scissors, pointing at the soft bit of skin underneath the person’s jawbone.

“Holy shit, Cam.” They jump, their eyes wide like saucers, “It’s just me.”

“Melissa. You should know better than to wake me like that,” I snarl.

“And you should know better than to sleep this late when we have practice,” she hisses in reply. Damn. I had forgotten we had practice today. “Come on, or we’ll be later than we already are,” she orders, before she struts out of our bedroom. After changing and brushing my teeth, I sling my bag onto my shoulder and follow her out of the room at a much more leisurely pace.

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By the time I get to school and to the changing rooms, Melissa is fuming; me being late had made her late for practice as well. I change and walk outside to the field. “How come you’re late?” Victor whispers to me, as I come to stand in the crowd waiting in front of the teacher.

“Forgot we had practice.” I shrug as the coach hurls a dodgeball at us. Victor shrugs and Melissa shoots a look at us. Well she shoots me a look, before dreamily gazing at Victor.

“Now that we are finally all here,” the coach glares in my direction, “I want to go over the track team rules, I have a few new ones too, so pay attention. Rule number one: anything that has happened, is happening, or might happen outside the track stays outside the track. Nothing matters here except for track. Rule number two: you will turn up to practice on time and with the right footwear. I will not tolerate lateness and if I feel you are not giving your all to this team, I will replace you. Rule number three: before every competition or meet, you will eat a full meal the night before and go to bed early and eat a decent breakfast the next morning. I don’t care how sick you feel, I will not have my team throwing up because they were too nervous to eat. Clear?”

“Rule four: if you are struggling with balancing schoolwork and track come and see either me or a member of the team. Hopefully we’ll find someone to help you and if we can’t then we might have to let you go, so please try and stay on top of it all. Rule five: you will never under pain of death reveal any of our tactics or plans to another team, and I strongly suggest you do not tell anyone off of the team because if they tell, I will hold you responsible and you will be off of the team.”

“Now, for the new rules. Rule six: if you decide to quit the team for whatever absurd reason, you will notify me at least a month before the next meet. A month is a poor time to train a new runner but it will have to do. If you notify in under a month you will be expected to play the next game and you can quit after. Understood? And lastly rule seven: there will be no dating between team members. I would prefer it if you did not date a member of a different track team either, to prevent tensions from arising that are not due to the actual competition. Savvy?” Coach was looking at the team who were all staring at him blankly, except Melissa who looks shocked and pale, and Keegan who is staring at his toes and pulling at the bottom of his jersey. Well, this just got more interesting.

“Does everyone understand?” Coach yells. Everyone, but me of course, jumps slightly before nodding, some a little less enthusiastically than others. Melissa looks on the verge of tears but Victor doesn’t even glance at her. Instead he looks at me. I stubbornly stare ahead of me. “Good, now, start running!” Coach roars. Apparently, my lateness has put him into a rather foul mood.

To add to the disaster that is this practice, the heavens decide now is the perfect time to release all the rain they’ve been holding this past week. We are drenched within seconds but Coach doesn’t bat an eyelash as he gives us spots on the track and tells us to run seven laps. He himself, stays in the middle, watching us. If no one gets injured by the end of this, I’ll be truly impressed. As I run closer to the stadium seats to try and avoid the heavy rain, I see an oddly shaped form sitting in the first row of the stands. I race around once again, and when I get back to where I had spotted it, I slow down and turn to look into the stands, squinting my eyes against the rain. I think it’s a person. What kind of insane person is willingly comes out in this weather to watch a track practice? Unfortunately, the person behind me doesn’t see me stop through the veil of rain and rams straight into me, sending me flying into the stands beside the figure. I come crashing down to the floor, knocking over several benches. The person who ran into me is sent off balance and crashes against the stands a little ways down.