Story Collection

Jessica Anne Versati

It started in my toes again–that familiar tingle–and I panicked. I knew if I broke rank, it would attract unwanted attention, but I'd prefer that over a blackout in front of an audience and risk a trip to the hospital.

"Versati!" Mrs. Hughs cried out and blew her whistle, just as I moved onto the grass and slowed my pace to a brief walk. "Get back in formation!" She said.

I ignored her demands, which wasn't a wise thing to do. Hughs spent many years in the military as a drill sergeant and often forgot we were just civilian girls. Regardless, I had no other option and made a beeline for the bleachers, right as my legs started to tingle. The sound of over a dozen feet hitting in the track in unison slowed down behind me, and I could swear it felt as if the eyes of the entire track team were fixed to the back of my head. My ears grew hot with shame; I loved to stand out amongst others, but not like this.

Another shrill sound of Hugh's whistle rang out as I took a seat on the bleachers.

"No one told you to slow down, ladies!" Hughs barked. "I want five more laps out of you!" The girls quickly snapped back into position. They looked more like soldiers jogging around the track, rather than a group of teenage girls. Proud of her work and their obedience, Hughs did an about-face and stormed toward me with a red-hot fury in her eyes. She wore a cold expression that would strike fear in the devil himself.

"Get off your ass, Versati! Or I'll give squad lead to McKinney." Hughs stopped her advance just inches away, with the tips of her shoes almost touching mine. She crossed her arms, and towered over me–I felt like a cornered mouse in comparison. If my legs weren't numb and unresponsive at the moment, my fear alone would have carried me back onto the track in a heartbeat.

"I can't coach," I said deflated, and kept my head down. I didn't want to look Hughs in the eyes. She terrified me. She had sharp blue eyes, a prominent jaw, with well-defined cheekbones, and her hair always pulled tight into a neat bun. She was a very tall and masculine woman, with a body thick and hardened from over a decade of military training.

"Are you all right, Versati?" Her tone came out soft this time, and I couldn't help but glance up at her in surprise. Her brows were pulled tight with concern–and for a second, I almost believed that she was capable of kindness and compassion.

"I'm not feeling so hot." I murmured.

"Tummy ache?" Hugh's said in a mocking tone, and her fierce glare quickly returned, along with that always harsh and bitter tone. "Suck it up, Versati! Get your ass back out there." Her thick, rough hand wrapped entirely around my upper arm, then she jerked me right off the bench and shoved me forward. My rubber legs struggled to adjust to the sudden momentum, but by some miracle, I managed to avoid falling flat on my face. Catching myself didn't look smooth and pretty, though, that's for sure.

I couldn't quite feel my legs; they buzzed with a numb and static sensation, which only changed when my feet made contact with the ground. With every step I took, an intense burn shot upward from the sole of my foot and ended at the top of my thigh. I felt as if I were walking across a floor of sharp, hot thorns–and it took every ounce of willpower I had to press on and not cry. But at the same time, I knew that if I kept walking, my condition would only get worse.

"Pick up your feet, Versati." Hughs hissed from behind. I then felt her large palm slap the center of my back and push me forward. I felt too afraid to defy her, to beg to sit down and go home–so I attempted to jog back to my classmates, despite the last of my symptoms beginning to kick in. I could feel that familiar knot crawling up the muscles of my lower back, followed by my difficulty breathing. A blackout was completely unavoidable at this point, but I tried to power through it anyway.