***
Our trainer has written out our fitness programs. Just looking at it makes my body hurt, and I don’t even understand half of the words. What the hell is an oblique, and why do I have to crunch it one hundred times?
I feel Chad’s warm breath on my shoulder. “Just remember to pull power from the jackass,” he whispers in my ear and keeps walking.
His words put a smile on my face; our trainer really is a jackass. We’ve only had one fitness class, but after our assessment yesterday where he was completely quiet, he suddenly turned and kept yelling things like “Just one more, push it,” and when I’d complain, he’d just get angrier and louder.
I’m put on the treadmill thing again, as Jack—who I will be calling our trainer from now on, I don’t actually know his real name—calls it. Chad’s across from me on some weightlifting machine. Jack presses buttons, and I start at a slow jog. It doesn’t take me long to start feeling tired and heavy again, and I’m still sore from yesterday. Chad nods at me from across the room. I don’t need Tate here to know Chad’s telling me to focus on Jack, then myself, and then what I want to do.
I draw energy from Jack, and it becomes a little easier to keep jogging. Only focusing on my breathing and drawing more energy from him, I push harder, and harder. He ups my speed, and I’m running now, but I feel like I could go even faster. Sweat drips off my brow, I’m getting hot, my face feels flushed, and my hair is sticky from the perspiration, but I feel strong.
I start faltering on purpose, though—they can’t work out what I’m doing or I’ll be in big trouble. I fake some panting, some aching faces, and pretend to have a stitch, and then Jack finally slows the treadmill down to a slow walk.
“Well, that’s certainly better than yesterday,” he says as he writes something down on his clipboard in front of him.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say panting. “I think I must’ve been a little off yesterday.” I wait for praise, a job well done. I’m glad I don’t hold my breath for it to come, because it doesn’t.
“Now switch,” Jack demands.
Chad and I swap places, and I start trying to lift weights. I’m definitely going to need Jack’s strength to keep this up. Pulling strength from him again, I finish off the set of twenty reps that’s in my program. I manage it easily, and for the first time, I have confidence I can fake my way through this class. I’m pleased that I won’t have to dread this class every day.
When we’re dismissed, I head back to the changing rooms to have a shower. It may have been easier to train today, but I’m still sweaty and hot. Chad catches up to me just before I enter the girls’ locker room.
“Your room?” he asks, his muscles tense and defined through his shirt. It distracts me from what he’s saying.
“Umm … what?”
“Ability practice? For you?” he looks confused, as if he can’t figure out what I could’ve possibly thought he meant.
“Oh, sorry, yeah, I forgot. I’m just going to shower, and then I’ll head up there. You want to meet me there?”
“You sure you can find your way?” He smiles. “I’ll grab some food for us and see you up there.”
The Institute Page 40
