She scoops me into a big hug and then turns the TV back on. I watch with her in silence until I’m ready to go to bed. The fact remains that I still have to tell her everything. But tonight, I know she’s not ready. Which is fine because, truthfully, I’m not either.
3
Chapter Three
The crisp winter air burns in my lungs right along with my muscles as I blast through another timed round across the track at practice. For all that I have gained and lost in Jameson, running has remained my constant. They may have tried, but this is the one thing the Elites were never able to fully take from me.
The cold races across the skin of my bare arms and legs, but I’m moving so fast and pushing my body so hard that my skin is burning hot and numb to any coolness around. One thing I can thank the Elites for is that everything they put me through has made me a better runner ever. I could already hold my own before coming to WJ Prep, but the mental endurance I had to learn from their charades translated perfectly into a new level of performance on the track.
As I rush through the last lap, Coach Granger stops the timer in his hand with a pleased look on his face. I try to remain humble and ignore it, but inside I am giddy over how well I’m doing and how happy he looks with my performance. I keep my smile hidden, not wanting to appear too pleased with myself, and join the rest of the team as we gather our things and head for the showers.
I reach for my towel, but there’s a tug on the other end of it. I look up and come face to face with a pale, brunette girl with big blue eyes. She’s new here and I recognize her from our first day back. She’s part of the new Elites and has been sitting with them at lunch. Her face is blank as she glares at me, still clutching the other end of the towel. I wait for the inevitable outburst to ensue.
“Sorry,” I offer lightly. “I thought this one was mine.”
She keeps staring me down intently for a few seconds, not moving or speaking. It puts me more on edge as I wait for her to chastise me for living or something worse. No one should ever dare disrupt an Elite.
“It’s okay,” she shrugs and grumbles suddenly, and without another word, she turns and vanishes around the corner.
I’m silent and stunned for a moment, in complete disbelief that she didn’t pounce or scream or cuss me out at the very least. Maybe she’s too new of an Elite to know how things usually work with them.
“Ophelia!” Coach Granger calls out from the other end of the bleachers, snapping me out of my trance.
“Coach,” I answer dutifully, jogging over to meet him.
“Come into my office for a few minutes,” his head bobs towards the door. “I need to talk to you.”
I follow him into his small office resting a short distance from the track field. It’s dimly lit but lined with trophies, medals, and photos from all the school’s wins over the years. I can’t help but feel proud at the sight of the more recent awards that I helped us win.
“Have a seat,” he barks dryly. He comes across as cold and harsh, but Coach Granger is the nicest, most loyal adult left in WJ Prep, and he’s always had my back. A position that the Elites have made him pay dearly for. Not even the teachers and coaches are above their wrath.
“You know we’ve had scouts from all the top schools watching you over the past fe
w months,” he continues in a serious tone. “And as your guidance counselor may have already discussed with you, many of those schools are ready to start extending scholarship offers, contingent on an in-person interview, of course.”
I shift nervously over the topic of interviews. They can watch me run all day long, but the moment my presence and words come into play, I’m void of all confidence.
“There’s one school in particular that’s shown interest and I’d like you to check it out,” he explains. “It’s only a couple of hours from here. The track program there is outstanding and has churned out a handful of Olympians over the years. To boot, I have plenty of colleagues there and my recommendation will hold a lot of weight for you. They’d like to meet with you next week. Just an informal interview and some paperwork so they can finish the admissions process to let you know if you’d be accepted along with your scholarship offer.”
“Wow, Coach…that’s amazing,” I gasp. “I don’t know what to say…thank you!” My face drops for a moment. I bite my bottom lip, wanting to express my doubts, but I hate to sound ungrateful.
“What is it?” he questions knowingly.
“Well, it’s just…you said it was only a couple of hours from here,” I respond hesitantly. “I am pretty set on getting as far away from Jameson as possible. I’d think you of all people could understand that.”
He nods in heavy consideration as his eyes drift to the window with a pained stare. When the original Elites threatened my life over my father’s promise to take them down with evidence of their illegal sex trafficking ring operation, it led to Lily and Malcolm targeting Coach Granger.
Coach was the only person in the school on my side, and they wanted to make sure I had no one to turn to. They planted heroin for his son who was a recovering addict and the poor guy couldn’t resist the bait. He died of an overdose, but of course, neither of them suffered any consequences for it. Other than Lily, but knowing what I know now, she probably would have ended up in a mental health facility regardless.
“It’s a shame what they’re able to get away with,” he finally responds with a somber tone, then he straightens and turns back to me. “But you can’t let them win, Ophelia. Once you’re out of here and even just a couple hours away, they’ll leave you alone. This is a good school. Don’t let them continue ruling your life.”
I scoff lightly but do my best to keep it well hidden. It seems overly optimistic to think they’d let Emmett and I off the hook so easily. I’m convinced the only option is to get far away from them where hopefully they won’t bother looking for us. But Coach is right. At some point, I have to stop letting them dictate how I live my life. And if nothing else, the more acceptances and offers I get, the more choices I’ll have. It may even encourage other schools to increase their offers to compete.
“I’ll do my best at the interview,” I assure him. “Thank you for everything.”
After my chat with Coach, I meet Emmett in the parking lot. I tell him all about the upcoming interview along with the others I can expect to schedule in the coming weeks. He’s happy for me, but I can see the faintest hint of sadness in his eyes. He would never admit to it or show it to me, but I know this is hard for him.
Everything that’s happened in the past six months has left him clueless as to what he wants to do with his life. He wouldn’t even begin to know which colleges to apply for right now or what for. He didn’t spend the last three and a half years preparing for that the way the rest of us have. If the Hendersons along with his mom and sister hadn’t taken everything for him, he’d be too busy preparing to take over Jameson Automobiles to feel left out of everyone else’s college preparations.