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I will just have to cross that bridge when I get to it. I’m too tired to think and care anymore.
6
SETH
Thesunshinesonthe track field, making the dew on the grass glimmer in the light. It’s been so long since I last saw this field. So much has happened, I feel like it’s been years since I last raced. In reality, it’s only been about two months, but I can still feel the itch in my legs; the need to run building up within me.
I hobble towards the field, hating how slow I’ve become. It’s nearly seven on a Monday morning, but I wanted to get to practice early to speak with Coach. I know I’ve let him down with injuring myself and losing the marathon in Paris. He has always believed in me; supported me through some bad times. He even gave me money to be able to go to Paris with Rachel.
And how do I reward him?
By getting injured and losing everything.
Honestly, it’s my fault. When I first felt the twinge in my heel, I should have eased up, or seen a doctor about it. I knew the consequences of overtraining, but I did it anyway. Now, I’m stuck hobbling around campus, using the bus or the elevator whenever I need to give my foot a break. Thankfully, I got rid of the crutches a week or so ago. I hate feeling weak; hate moving at a snail’s pace. Technically, I still can’t run. I won’t be able to seriously run until January. After two months, my body is already out of shape. I can hardly see the definition in my lower abs. Rachel hasn’t noticed a difference, but I do. If I put on any more weight, it will slow me down even more.
I shake those thoughts from me. I can’t do anything about it now. My main goal is to get my foot healed and ready to move again. That’s what’s most important. I head into the track building. The halls are quiet, and all the doors are closed. Maybe I’m too early, but it shouldn’t be long until Coach arrives. Practice begins at eight sharp. It should be an easy practice; mostly just meeting the new freshmen and doing an easy run around the building.
I grind my teeth, wondering what exactly I’ll be doing. Sitting around and watching my peers? Cleaning the shoes and talking with Coach? I sigh and shake my head. I’ll be able to move on to jogging around October, so I won’t be lazing around for long.
I pause outside Coach’s door, rapping my knuckles lightly. The sound makes me wince, drawing my thoughts back to Rachel and her mom discovering us on the couch. Her discovery wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. She just stood there, staring at us while we all tried to put ourselves back together.
Just thinking about it has my teeth clenching. Rachel had been so wet. Her insides were squeezing my fingers, and all I wanted to do was shove myself deep inside her. It’s been way too long since we’ve had any intimacy, and now with Rachel all upset about her mom finding out, I worry I’m going to have to wait a bit longer.
I feel my shorts tighten, thinking about Rachel. Now is definitely not the time, and I try to think of anything to calm the little man in my pants, demanding to be released. I think of yesterday, when Rachel returned from meeting with her mom. She burst into a fit of tears again, burying her face into my chest while my arms wrapped around her. I hate seeing her cry like that. I kinda hate her mom for making Rachel feel so terrible. Aren’t parents supposed to love their children no matter what? And it’s not like Rachel’s doing anything bad. She’s not taking drugs or getting so drunk she passes out. Honestly, she’s pretty responsible. She’s the best girl I’ve ever dated. I don’t know what I would do without her.
“Come in!” Coach shouts from the other side of the door, making me jump.
I shove the door open, finding Coach sitting at his desk while rifling through papers. He glances at me and straightens in his seat, leaving the papers in a messy pile while smiling pityingly back at me. I hate that pity. I don’t need it. It’s not going to get me through this hell I’ve brought upon myself.
“Seth,” he says gently. “I was expecting you. Please, sit.” He gestures towards the seat across from him.
I walk towards it, desperately trying not to hobble. As soon as I put weight on the back of my foot, I wince, earning a pitying nod from Coach. Well, this just blows, now doesn’t it?
“I heard about Paris,” Coach starts.
“Yeah, I had a little mishap. But don’t you worry!” I smile while dumping my body into the chair. “I have a plan to get back on my feet. The doctors say I can begin my training in late October. Maybe early November if everything goes well. And I will find a way to pay you back for Paris. I know it was a lot of money and I’m very sorry for-”
“Seth!” Coach shouts. I swallow my words, the words I’ve practiced since getting on the flight back to Colorado. “Enough. Don’t worry about Paris.”
I crane towards him, feeling confused. “Don’t worry? But I thought I had to bring back the trophy in order to-” Coach shakes his head. My brows furrow in confusion and I lean back in my chair, feeling all the dread and impending doom I’ve felt these last few weeks dissipate.
“I gave you that money because I believed in you. I still believe in you.”
“Thanks,” I say, unable to say anything else. So, I worried over nothing? Everything will be fine this year?
“You should worry more about your scholarship.”
My heart deflates and all hope leaves me. Of course. My scholarship. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. I hadn’t even thought of my scholarship.
“Are they going to take it away from me?” I ask, finding the words difficult to say. I don’t even want to know the answer. The only reason why I was able to go to college was due to my track scholarship. If I lost that, I wouldn’t be able to afford the tuition. It wasn’t like I had any huge plans after graduation, but a degree looked better on a resume and helped get better jobs, supposedly.
Coach shakes his head, and I release the breath, not even realizing I had been holding it. “Not yet. You’re fine for this semester, but I highly recommend you focus on your academics and keep your grades up.”
I grimace. My grades have been shit so far. I’ve always put running and partying first. Even in high school, I got terrible grades. Studying isn’t really my thing, but if I want a degree, I’m going to have to put in the work. And it’s not like I will be able to run much this semester.
“When you’re able, begin training for the indoor athletics,” Coach continues. “If you can’t run, or your score isn’t as high as the others, I’m afraid you’ll lose your place on our team. And you’ll lose your scholarship. The board has told me you have until the end of January to prove yourself.”
“No pressure, or anything,” I murmur. My muscles have already started deteriorating since I stopped running. I’ll have to speak with a physical trainer, retrain those muscles so when I begin running again, I won’t be so far behind.
