I hesitate for a moment, still feeling afraid. But I finally wrap my arms around him and rub his back gently. “Shhhh,” I comfort him softly. “It’s okay.”
We rock back and forth like that for a few moments. Then all at once, he straightens, pulling back to wipe his nose. He seems like himself again and looks embarrassed for whatever just happened.
“Sorry,” he says again. “I just kind of lost it for a moment. I couldn’t…I couldn’t breathe.”
“I think you just had a panic attack,” I suggest with concern, studying the change in his face.
“Those fuckers,” he sneers, wiping his nose again with a sniffle.
I let him calm down some more, knowing I can’t process any of this for myself until I’m alone again. Away from his deep, mournful eyes staring back at me with his twisted pink lips that I love and yearn for always, even in fucked-up moments like this.
We hide out in there for a while until after the bell has rung and we hear the hallways grow silent again. Then I walk Emmett to his class as I promised. As I walk on my own after delivering him to the door, I am horrified to have such a recent reminder of that side of Emmett. The side of him that is so lost and confused, it’s almost inhuman. That used to be the only side of him I saw, and he did awful things to me when that part of him was in the steering wheel. I can’t help but wonder if these new Elites will find a way to crack him, bringing the old demented Emmett out again for good.
Something else stirs in me after the awful morning. It’s a strange, new way of seeing Emmett. He suddenly doesn’t seem as strong as he used to. Not that breaking down or having a panic attack is anything weak in itself. No, it’s something else. Just as I try to quietly slip into my class, ignoring the teacher who chastises me for being late, I realize I’m having a hard time feeling sorry for Emmett right now. I have walked in his shoes before, only the difference was…he was usually the one tormenting me.
In a sick way, it’s like the new Elites are exacting revenge on my behalf. Emmett is getting a dose of his own medicine. I wouldn’t say I’m enjoying it, but part of me feels like Emmett is getting what he deserves after all those years of being on the other side of this, doling out punishments to anyone who crossed him or questioned his position. And if that’s how I really feel…should we be together?
11
Chapter Eleven
I bound out of school at the end of the day, eager to get to practice. Emmett usually walks me, but today I rush over to the locker rooms without him. I feel bad leaving him to fend for himself, but there is still some resentful part of me that thinks he should be able to tough it out on his own. I hate feeling that way and it only makes me more impatient to run it all out of my system.
Once I’m changed, I join the others on the field and try to start warm-ups. But Coach Granger blows his whistle and asks us to huddle together. We groan and form a group around him. It’s freezing cold and the only thing to warm us up is to get moving, but first he says he has an announcement to make.
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Jada,” he announces, nodding to the petite, dark-s
kinned woman at his side. She’s nearly half his height, as most people are, with a cute button nose and little black curls pulled into a bun around her bright face. “She’ll be working with you all this semester as my new coaching assistant.”
I expect Jada to smile with her introduction, but instead, she stands firm with her arms behind her back, practically scowling at all of us. Which is for the best. My favorite coaches have always been mean and stern, more concerned with pushing us to be the best runners we can be rather than pretending to be our friends.
After Jada is introduced, the other girls and I line up on the track field, waiting for the whistle to blow. I feel like a bull waiting to charge as jets of steam shoot out of my nose and mouth against the cold air. I’m freezing in my thin running gear, but I know soon my skin will be burning hot once I get a good way into the laps. And I am in serious need of the release. I could barely stand to make it through warm-ups. I bounced through the stretches and exercises, impatiently waiting for the chance to take off.
The whistle shrieks and I start running, leaving the others behind me by a long shot. I break into a fast and even stride, leaving everyone and everything behind me. I’m so desperate to run away from the complexities of my life that I don’t even have to get through the first mile to get that runner’s high. The pumping adrenaline hits me instantly.
Practice flies by as I slip into a sort of trance. I run through a mindless meditation, basking in the peace and quiet. There is nothing but me and the building pain in my body and chest as I round the final few laps. I notice Jada eyeing me intently as I slow down into the covered bleachers where we always gather at the end of practice.
Coach makes a few announcements about upcoming competitions but keeps it brief. Now that we’re all motionless and sweaty, the cold quickly sets back in. We’re all dismissed, but Coach asks me to hang back for a moment. Just long enough to spout off some of my times for the day, complimenting me and reminding me of my training commitments to keep it up.
“Good job out there today, Lopez,” Jada concurs with Coach as they walk away, heading for his office.
I’m feeling good from their praise, but mostly just relieved from how therapeutic today’s run was. As I gather everything up to head into the locker room, I remember that Emmett is supposed to drive me home. Practice helped me get some things off my mind, but I’m still feeling conflicted enough about him to not want to see him. I consider running home, which would give me an excuse to avoid him, but would also give me more opportunity to run everything out of my system.
“You okay?” a voice interrupts my thoughts suddenly from the corner of the bleachers.
I whip around in surprise to see Bridgett standing there, watching me closely as she reaches for her gym bag.
“What do you care?” I bite back.
“Don’t be like that,” she scoffs. “No one’s around, you know. We don’t have to pretend to hate each other.”
I blink in shock, realizing that she is aware of the expected dynamic between her as an Elite and me as someone who is blacklisted. She knows how she is supposed to treat me, obviously. But does she know what will happen if she doesn’t obey?
“I’m Bridgett,” she says suddenly, ignoring my frozen, blank expression as she marches right up to me with her hand out.
I shake it lightly, unsure of what to say. “Ophelia,” I answer slowly. “But I’m sure you know that.”
“Well, sure…but we’ve never officially met,” she smiles, but it fades as I continue staring at her with wide eyes. “I’m not going to bite,” she huffs.