1:55 | h.s

Chapter Two

4 years ago

"Breathe from your core. Oxygen is important for muscle recovery. You should feel every inhale in your stomach, exhale through your mouth. Stay on your toes, light-footed. Remember, it's a dance. Keep your arms close to your chest, tucked in. Excessive movement uses unnecessary energy."

"I know." I mumbled, wincing slightly as Brian leaned on my leg, pushing it into my chest to relax my hamstring.

"You got this." He grinned, releasing my leg.

I exhaled slowly on my way up. Blades of grass stuck to my back, which Brian dutifully picked off.

It was a full crowd. Everyone showed up to see the miracle girl's first meet after her recovery.

Instead of focusing on the blur of faces I lifted my eyes to the stadium lights. Little bugs floated in the sky, all fighting to get closer to the light. Occasionally a bat swooped low, probably scoring a snack.

"How are you feeling?" Brian asked, tugging me up with a strong arm.

"Good."

It was a lie, but it was a lie I was expected to tell. He smiled at me, his dark eyes glittering proudly.

The loudspeaker crackled before the assistant holding it spoke; "800m senior girls. Final call."

"Kick some ass. You deserve it." He kissed my forehead and then bent down to collect my bag and shoes.

He had no idea what I deserved, and he probably never would. Leaving him without a reply I jogged over to my predetermined lane.

Lane one.

I could feel the eyes of the other girls on me. Dragging down my body, to the jagged red scar on the outside of my right thigh running all the way down to my calf.

Battle wounds, he called them.

I ignored it all, the stares and whispers and the sudden hush that fell over the crowd.

Another bat swooped into the slice of light cast by the stadium lights.

"800m senior girls. On your marks."

It was all white noise. My heart hammered in my chest; my fingers went numb.

My weight shifted onto my right leg, and I imagined the scar splitting open.

Maybe that would satisfy the crowd.

"Get set."

No pain. No pain. No pain.

Just put one leg in front of the other and don't stop until you cross this finish line first.

A loud crack. I could smell the smoke from the gun and then nothing.

Whoops and cheers echoed through the hallway, students clapped and pounded on locker doors.

"Congratulations on your win Finch." The sounds all blended into one, and I smiled through all of it.

"That's my girl." Brian wrapped his arms around me, spinning me in a celebratory circle in the middle of the hallway.

"It was slow, a 2:42. They probably let me win."

"Cut yourself some slack. You've only been back in the game for three months. Besides..." He slid his arm across my shoulders, guiding me through the hallway.

"Look around you. Everyone is ecstatic."

"Just because it's new. A novelty. It will wear down soon enough... now if it was football..." I trailed with a grin, leaning with my shoulder into the door of my first class.

"Then I'd have to watch my back before you take my spot."

I laughed, slipping into my classroom before Brian demanded a celebratory kiss as well.

It was finally quiet. I could finally breathe.

Until someone slid into the empty seat beside me.

"Congrats on your win. You must've hated it."

The "Thank you," had already slipped out before I truly grasped the words that were said.

"What?" I blurted, snapping my head up to look at the face behind the voice.

He gave me a dimpled smirk, tapping out a distracting rhythm with his pencil on the desk.

"You hate it."

"I am honoured to be able to run." I recited the words with a polite smile. Just like I practised.

"No, you're not. I bet; you secretly wish you lost that leg."

I gaped at him, trying to understand how this boy, who is surrounded by so much controversy, can hit a nail on the head so precisely.

The tapping seemed to get louder.

"You're crazy if-"

"Am I?" He interrupted, turning to sling his tattooed arm across the back of my chair. Those exact tattoos have gotten him into more than one disciplinary hearing, but then again, it's not like the school board can ask him to simply take it off.

"Positively insane."

He tapped faster.

"Say what happened to your leg again?"

"Can you stop that." I snapped, reaching out a hand to still his pencil.

Quiet.

Think.

"See how easy it is; to stop something you hate." His green eyes were piercing as if he could see into my soul. Like all the hidden secrets I keep there were laid bare for his appraisal.

I exhaled slowly, letting go of his hand.

"You're wrong."

Mr Garrison slouched into the classroom, ending all impending conversation.

My notebook remained empty as I replayed last night. Wondering if anyone else could see right through my little act.