What life?
Like I can unsee what I saw. Unlearn a truth I always suspected.
There is no going back. There is no old life.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
Brushing a fine tear off my cheek, I sniff and pull on my shirt.
Damn that killer for putting me in this position.
Damn him for shooting Robbie!
“Why?” I whimper and slap the wall. “Why’d you do it?”
My lips wobble and distort, forming an ugly line. Anger stirs in my belly, scalding my self-pity.
“You’re going down for this, you asshole. I won’t let you win.”
Raising my chin, I clutch the towel to my chest and creep back to my room.
#8:
A Weak Loser
Trey
The gym is filled with sounds of intensity. Grunts, puffs, thumps—proof of committed exertion.
Every student at Eton has to take PE right through, and four times a year we have to complete The Gauntlet, designed by Hades himself to test our bodies to the limits.
I love it. Because I can do it and still come out smiling.
Riley hated it the first year, managed to finish it the second year, and nearly creamed me last year.
I laugh as I reach the top of the climbing wall before him. Gripping the rope, I sail down the other side, landing with a thud beside Kade.
“You’re not beating me either,” I tell him before sprinting ahead to the tires.
Kade’s laughter catches up to me. “Whatever, dude.” He flies past me, his long legs eating up the tire challenge.
My face puckers with a determined frown and I concentrate on my footwork. Next up are the high steps, then the rope swing over the gym pads. That’ll take me to the last section where we have to cross the beam, climb the wall bars, scale across, and then jump down to the medicine balls. Lunges, sit-ups, push-ups and pull-ups are the final test before we can get our time and then collapse into an exhausted heap.
Not me. There will be no heap.
I’m coming off this thing fresh as a freaking daisy.
Wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, I grab the thick rope and swing across, horrified to see Riley sailing right past me.
Shit!
I’ll have to get him on the beam.
I land and roll, scrambling to my feet and sprinting to the beam. He’s just climbing on, but I yank his shirt and pull him to the floor.
“You asshole!” He laughs at me, breaking the rules and jumping onto the beam.
“One at a time, guys!” Coach Baxter calls.
We both ignore him, laughing and trying to balance while we race across the beam and leap onto the wall ladders.
Riley’s puffing behind me.
Kade’s just landing by the medicine balls.
I’m not letting either of them beat me. It’s not an option.
I land and snatch the medicine ball closest to me, powering through my lunges before dropping for my fifty sit-ups. I catch up to Kade on the push-ups, grunting as I count out my final ten. He’s two steps behind me as I jump up to the bar and start twenty pull-ups.
“Twenty!” I shout and let go, landing with perfect execution and grinning at the coach.
He stops his timer. “Nice work, Calloway—eight minutes, fifteen. You beat your time from last year by thirty seconds.”
“Shit!” Kade complains, then shouts out, “Twenty!”
“You guys suck!” Riley bellows a second later, then lands on the ground and grumbles, “Twenty!”
“Kingsley—eight minutes, twenty-nine. Duncan—eight minutes, forty-one. Good job.”
I can’t hide my smug smile as I turn to face the losers. They both shake their heads, look at each other and then take a shoulder each, pushing me to the ground. I land with a thud at the coach’s feet. He completely ignores me when I get up and start a friendly tussle with my brothers.
It’s loud with laughter and the only thing to stop us is Coach shouting across the gym, “Come on, Lorden! This isn’t a Sunday afternoon stroll!”
I push the guys off me and we gaze across the gym at Chris, who is struggling up the climbing wall.
He’s the only one left. Ivan’s just finishing his pull-ups and the rest of the class is somewhere between the beam and him.
Poor Chris is miles behind.
He keeps slipping down the wall, not having the upper body strength to jump, hold and pull himself up.
Damn. The guy is really pathetic. He looks like he’s drowning in his PE shirt, and the shorts are puffy and big around his skinny legs. Sweat is running down his neck and I can see his arms shaking from here. The guy looks ready to collapse and he’s only just over halfway through the course.
Ivan scoffs beside me. “What a fucking loser.” Cupping his mouth, he yells across the gym. “You can do it, Wonder Boy!” His sarcasm is grating. “Oh no, wait, my bad! You can’t do it because you’re a weak freak!”
“Shut your mouth, Van der Belt,” Coach mutters, although he looks like he’s fighting a smile.
My fist curls as I resist the urge to land my knuckles right in Ivan’s face.
I wish I could.