“Sure. But they also feel bad for you. There’s also a rumor that Poppy spiked your yogurt?” Chloe asked.
“Yeah. That is the most plausible explanation, but how to prove it is another thing altogether,” I sighed.
“God. Talk about a shitty first day,” Chloe sighed. She leafed through her bag and dragged out two rolls, a pad of butter wrapped in plastic, and an apple. “I figured you must be starving if your stomach is any better. I heard Coach Jonathon talking about you to Coach Izzy. He said he feels bad for pushing you so far when you ‘had a migraine,’ or whatever. So I guess it’s not the end of the world that this happened. So her plan backfired, I guess.”
“Yeah, well, now I know to stay far away from her and not to trust anyone,” I said. I brought the salty bread to my mouth and took a small bite. Immediately, a bit more clarity came over me. “I just have to watch my back going forward.”
“I’ll try to help you,” Chloe said. “Just don’t accept any food or drink from anyone you don’t trust.” She laughed then as she looked at the bun in my hand—the one she had just given me. Chloe then reached over the sheets and squeezed my wrist. Just someone’s touch felt like an enormous gesture of friendliness, and I thought I might cry. “Don’t feel bad about what happened today. Just focus on tomorrow and the future. You can come back from this and soon, everyone will forget.”
I turned toward her. I still felt this massive rock on my chest. “Okay. I have to trust you. I don’t have another option, do I?”
“Nope!” she said. “I have another practice in ten minutes, so I have to run. But I’ll bring you some more snacks later. And if you want to plot out revenge...”
“Ha. As if that could ever happen here,” I said.
“True. Very true,” Chloe said. “At least you’re a realist. I like that.”
“I grew up in the foster system. Being a realist is kind of what you have to be to survive.”
Chapter Nine
I probably could have kissed Chloe later when she returned with a Snickers bar and a mound of roasted vegetables. “A bit of protein and some vegetables. Everything an athlete needs,” she said and winked at me.
“What! I thought the letter said that all candy was banned?” I asked, looking at the bar of sweetness.
“Everyone smuggles in what they want when they first get here. And then slowly but surely, you learn to forget how damn good a Snickers bar is. It’s the saddest thing in the world,” she said. “Anyway, I traded some icy hot for it from one of the boys on the track team. I heard he has quite a selection of candy bars in his room—but he’s only trading for the good shit.”
“It’s a regular black market,” I joked. I lifted myself up and leaned against the wall, still up in my bunk and yanked open the wrapper of the Snickers bar. The smell of chocolate, swept around gooey caramel and peanuts, was all-out titillating.
Chloe crawled into her bed on the other side and beamed at me. She lifted her own Snickers into the air and waved it around. “I couldn’t help but get myself one, too. Extra energy. Also, I would have been too damn jealous, watching you eat a Snickers in bed without me.”
“It’s just cruel to do that to someone. Eat candy around them,” I said.
“Agreed.” Chloe nodded her head.
I chewed a tiny bite and contemplated the day. “What is everyone saying now?”
“More of the same. But like I said, everyone is slowly forgetting what’s going on,” she said. “Pretty remarkable. Even Poppy seemed to forget about you tonight. She was flirting hard with the Brotherhood, as usual. I can never get a sense if they give a shit about her. Of course, I know she’s interested in how rich Theo and Clinton are. I guess they’re comparable to her. Zed thrills her because—well—they used to hook up, or whatever, and she likes having this power over him because she’s rich and he’s a bad boy. She once called him her trophy husband.”
“Gross,” I said.
“By the way. There’s always a secret party during the first weekend of the year,” Chloe said. “The first Friday. Normally, it’s in Theo and Clinton’s bedrooms, because they’re attached. Their rooms are enormous, Rooney. Huge balconies overlooking the arboretum with large windows that runs from floor to ceiling. It makes our room look like a damn janitor closet.”
“You mean our window isn’t big enough for you?” I asked, pointing at the tiny rectangle that was our only link to the real world.
“Ha. You’re right. I need to count my blessings for what we have,” Chloe smirked.
“I doubt I should go. Who knows what Poppy would do,” I said.
“Maybe she’ll have forgotten about you by then,” Chloe said. “But seriously. You can’t miss the first party of the year. We don’t have very many because we’re all, you know, committed to our careers or whatever...” She said this last bit with heavy sarcasm and shrugged, finishing up her Snickers. “But hell, I just want to make out with someone. And this might be my last time to do it for a while.”
Make out with someone.
Romantic love had been non-existent in my life. I mean, to be honest, anything resembling love had been pretty non-existent, except if you counted the love that both Marcia and Jeanine had for me, which I did. If I didn’t count it, I might have gone crazy a long time ago. The kids showed their love in unique little ways—like, little drawings they made me or wanting to braid my hair or play war in the backyard.
But romantic love. That was something I hardly knew anything about. I had seen my share of romantic movies, the ones that Karla rented from the video store, and I knew the general gist. Boy wants girl. Girl is mean to boy. Boy is mean to girl. Erm. The equation gets a bit muddy in the middle. But somehow, they end up together and kiss as the sun sets behind them and they live happily ever after.
Chloe ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth. I laid back, my stomach feeling a bit better post-Snickers. I felt almost as afraid about this first party as I had about the audition for Denver Athletics itself. It felt almost like an audition for something big, something that involved every teen on campus doing an assessment on whether or not you actually fit in.
The next day, I woke up at 4:45 and got dressed for practice and remained awake until Chloe was ready to walk out with me. She grinned sleepily as we hustled out. It was still too early to speak, but I could feel the sentiment: this is it. You’ve got this.
Practice started the same as it did the day before, with three miles. I felt fresh and energetic, and I charged ahead of the other girls and stretched my legs out next to Coach Jonathon’s. I could feel Poppy hustling up behind me.
“Coach, I just wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday,” I said. I kept my voice bright, careful not to show any fatigue mid-run. “It was unprofessional, and it won’t happen again.”
Coach Jonathon gave me a nod and a firm smile. “It’s alright, Rooney. You were sick and that is one thing we don’t do here is force our students to practice when they are sick. I know it wasn’t your fault. Let’s focus on today, now, okay?”
“Right,” I said and smiled.
I kept pace with him for the rest of the run. We even sprinted the very last half-mile in a way that made my legs absolutely scream with pain. When we reached the gym, I cut forward and grabbed my knees for a second, but reared back a moment later to give Coach Jonathon a high-five.
“There she is,” he beamed. “That’s the Rooney Calloway I met at the auditions.”
Practice was grueling but necessary. I was so glad to feel all those muscles again: my finicky shoulder muscle when I sprung into a forward flip—my weird back leg muscle when I arched it on the balance beam. I could feel Poppy’s eyes on me as I performed a two-minute routine for Coach Jonathon and the girls, and Coach Jonathon even used the performance as an example, saying that my technique was stellar and everyone should try to match it.
With every compliment he doused on me, Poppy’s hatred grew louder. It was going to brew up a storm if I wasn’t careful. But there rea
lly wasn’t anything else to do but work and act agreeable and perform at my best. If she felt intimidated or like I was a threat, then that was her problem, not mine.
After lunch, we fell into a traditional high school routine. Every person had five one-hour classes, from one o’clock until six o’clock. After that, we had dinner, and then sometimes another practice, depending on the day. This was okay with me since I wasn’t used to personal time, anyway.
My classes were: Biology lab, English Literature, American History, Pre-Calculus, and French I. When I had signed up for the classes, I had secretly chosen Japanese because the next Olympics were slated to be in Paris. That was two years away, which meant this Olympics might have been my only possible opportunity. By the time the next Olympics, I would be twenty-two years old, which was about a million years old in gymnastics years; however, there were a few successful, older gymnasts out there still competing. But the fact was, you’re just not as flexible, and you just don’t perform as well as when you are young and fresh. Your body doesn’t work the same anymore.
No, if I was going to make it to the Olympics, I was going to have to go to Paris. And that meant that everything I did, everything I dreamed about, had to be about that.
I had never been to high school and hadn’t been to public school in years. As I headed off to Biology Lab, I felt overwhelmed with anxiety. I knew I had fallen behind in my tutoring, that I probably shouldn’t even be entered into these courses. I would have to work twice as hard as every other student, just to stay afloat.
When I walked into the class, my heart sank. There was only one more seat available, and it was directly next to Theo, in front of Poppy, and several seats away from Chloe. I gave her a strained smile and eased myself into the chair next to Theo. He turned and gave me a once-over with his eyes. It always felt like he was weirdly undressing me.
“Maybe if she throws up again, we can all get out of class for the day,” someone said behind me. I turned to see Clinton seated behind Theo. He leered at me, and I watched his muscles flex underneath his t-shirt.
“Maybe she’s got some kind of eating disorder,” Poppy murmured under her breath. “I guess we’ll have to keep a close on that. Becoming the best possible athlete is not just a physical requirement but also a mental requirement. We can’t have someone that reach their true potential if they have a mental health issue, right?”
I turned quickly toward her and met her sharp blue eyes. “Don’t even try me, bitch!” I seethed through clenched teeth and wanted to sock her one right then and there, but knew that would be the end of me. I refrained and decided to just play her petty game. “I guess my only ailment is when bitchy jealous girls poison my frozen yogurt. Right, Poppy? You wouldn’t know anyone that fit that bill, would you?” I held her stare until she finally looked away.
“The word is, you’re not too bright when it comes to classes,” Theo shot out. “I heard that you barely got through the past few years of tutoring without failing.”
I gaped at him. How could he possibly know any of that? Of course, Denver gossip was wild and it spread very quickly. Maybe my tutor had told someone who’d told someone at the gym, like Iva, who had passed it along to him. I suddenly felt like I could count an army of enemies, all of them poised to attack. And the only reason they seemed to hate me was that I actually had a shot at this.
OUR TEACHER, MR. COLLINS, marched in. Like all of the teachers at Denver Athletics, he was once an athlete himself. He had once played pro tennis. There was a photo of him with Roger Federer, the tennis player, hanging on the wall. I wondered when he had found the time to actually go to school and become a teacher. I wondered when he had decided it was time to close down shop on his profession.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Mr. Collins announced to the class. He had started too bald, and he didn’t seem to care at all, letting his hair poof out over his ears. “Welcome to junior year Biology Lab. Today, I wanted to start with something a little exciting if you’re up for it. I know, I know. You don’t ever think science has the possibility to be exciting.”
Nobody spoke or admitted this to him or gave any indication that we were listening at all. It must have been really shitty to be a teacher and never receive any kind of feedback from the actual people you talked to every day.
There was a large white glass container on the table in front of Mr. Collins. He brought his hands over it and rubbed his palms together like he was about to cook up something delicious.
“One element of biology that I really enjoy is the investigation of the insides of other organisms,” he said, beaming at all of us.
My stomach started to flip, much like it had the day before. What did he mean, investigation of the insides?
“I would like all of you to gather up here by the head lab table,” he said as he motioned with hands to come up.
As we all stood, Mr. Collins gathered up a selection of sharp utensils and spread them out on a towel beside the container. The utensils glittered ominously. I shivered as I drew closer. I wanted to ease to the right to be closer to Chloe, but I couldn’t figure out how to fight the crowd. I found myself wedged between Theo and Zed, of all people, with Poppy directly behind me. I could feel her breathing down my neck.
Mr. Collins beamed at us and linked his fingers over the top of the container. “Take a deep breath, everyone...” His deep baritone voice addressed the class, and then he flung the top of the container off to reveal a dead rat, spread-eagle inside. His belly was round and pointed toward the ceiling, and his little hands were splayed on either side of him. From where I was, I couldn’t quite make out his face, but my imagination was enough. This was one of the worst things I could have ever imagined, and it was happening on the very first day.
I had always been very fond of animals. At one point, I was leaving out handfuls of the cat food for the strays that kept showing up in the backyard at Karla’s. I never told her, and she always thought our cat just ate a lot. I couldn’t stand to see those strays go without food.
Mr. Collins lifted one of the scalpels and started explaining the anatomy of the rat. I kind of blacked out as he spoke. I felt dizzy and little sweat beads erupted on the back of my neck. I slid my fingers into my jeans pockets and then back out again, praying for the time to go by quickly.
The utensils that Mr. Collins would be using to slice open this rat and explore his insides were just about a half-foot from where we stood. As Mr. Collins was all wild with his excited conversation about rat organs, we all watched Poppy slide her hand across my shoulder and then grab one of the shiny utensils from the table. It was razor-sharp and tiny, and as she whipped it back toward her, it glinted in the light.
Everyone seemed uneasy, now that Poppy had a weapon. I shivered, knowing she was directly behind me. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and considered what to do. I could feel her kind of whipping it around the air, showing off for everyone around her. Ellison, the girl from orientation, whispered, “What the hell are you doing, Poppy?” And to this, Poppy just said, “Jesus, Ellison. Lighten up.”
“What was that, guys?” Mr. Collins asked. He looked up, his eyes bright. He literally couldn’t understand that we’d had our minds on anything else.
“Just excited about this, Mr. Collins,” Zed said.
“Fantastic,” Mr. Collins said. “As I was saying...”
I felt a flutter across the back of my shirt. It felt like she was flirting with cutting the fabric. I shifted forward and my heart raced. Ellison whispered, “Come on, Poppy.”
“Shut up, Ellison,” Poppy returned. “It’s a great day for cutting open a rat.”
“What was that, guys?” Mr. Collins said again, looking up.
“I said, Mr. Collins, that I can’t wait to cut open that rat,” Poppy returned. On cue, I felt something press against my back.
“Again, thanks for your enthusiasm. But let me first explain what we’re going to do, so we can all be involved,” Mr. Collins said.
Mr
. Collins continued to go on about the rat. Poppy let out a devilish laugh and I flashed my eyes back toward Chloe, who looked petrified. Nobody dared interrupt either Poppy or Mr. Collins to say what was going on.
Who the hell did she think she was? But then I felt her starting to slice at my hair—my long black, straight and shiny hair—I had to do something. I heard it slice off along the right of my ear. I whipped around so fast that she nearly sliced my cheek with the instrument, and I leered at her. She pointed the scalpel directly at my eye and grinned. I wanted to murder her. I grabbed her wrist quickly and tightly, pulling her toward me while I hissed in her ear, “Try it and you’ll wish you would have never fucking met me.” At that, I dropped her hand and turned around like nothing had happened.
A second later, she slammed into me then from behind and I crumbled against the lab table. My elbow nearly knocked the dead rat container off the table. Mr. Collins barely saved it. He yelped and wrapped his arms around it and screamed, “Everybody back!”
Everyone stared at me and then Poppy. Mr. Collins glared at me with his arms still wrapped lovingly around the container. “Miss—I’m sorry. What is your name? We haven’t done names yet.”
“Rooney. Rooney Calloway,” I answered.
“Miss Calloway, is there a problem here?” he demanded.
I wasn’t the type of girl to kiss and tell. That was too easy. I nodded, flashing him a small smile of embarrassment, “No. Everything’s fine. I lost my balance. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
He set his jaw and studied me. “I’ve read a bit about you, Miss Calloway. I hope you’ll stop by my desk after class so we can discuss your future here in this class,” he said. “Now. Everyone, back to your seats. I’m going to put the rat back in the freezer. He deserves your full attention, and I sense that that will happen another time.”
The rest of the hour was grueling. With every minute that passed, I slipped deeper into my chair, just wishing for the day to go faster. I wanted to be back on the balance beam, alone. Just me, my body and the gym.
Out for Blood Page 8
