I scowl at her. I should scream it. I should just say it right now. You tripped me, you evil bitch! But I don’t. I bite my tongue and I hate myself for doing it.
I’ve been taught all my life to hold back on my anger—to not lash out and seem like the angry, stereotypical black woman because I’m more than that. But I am angry. She tripped me. I have the right to be angry right now.
“Go, Howard.” Torres’ voice is firm. He doesn’t look at her. I swing my eyes down to him and his jaw his ticking.
Melanie turns, but not without peering over her shoulder at me. There is no remorse in her eyes, no guilt. She starts jogging again, blond ponytail bouncing as she cuts a corner, disappearing around it.
When she is gone, Torres focuses on my eyes. “I’m going to help you up. Try not to lean on that ankle too much.”
I nod, and Torres leans forward so I can hook my arm around his shoulders. He brings me up with ease, then turns toward the gate. “We’ll go to the nearest bench.”
I don’t bother nodding this time. I’m focusing too much on not putting too much weight on my ankle as I hop like an injured bunny.
We make it to the first bench in sight and just as Torres places me down, Nicole shows up with an ice-pack. “Here,” she says. She starts to hand it to me, but Torres takes it, lifts my leg up on the bench, and places the ice-pack right on my swollen ankle. It’s cold as hell and I hiss, eventually numbing to the cool temperature.
“Thanks, Nicole. You can go get your day started. I’ll call Veronika.”
“Kay.” Nicole gives me a sympathetic look, but there’s something in her eyes. Something telling. Did she see what Melanie did too?
Nicole walks away and when she’s gone, I realize I can’t hold it in anymore. “Melanie tripped me,” I blurt out.
Torres is quiet, focused on placing the ice pack on the right part of my ankle. For a moment, I think he didn’t hear me, or maybe he didn’t want to hear me, and I start to say it again, but he finally says, “I know.”
I frown, caught off guard by that. “You know?”
“I saw her do it.”
“Well, why didn’t you say something?” I snap.
“I will say something,” he counters.
“Why not say something when it happens? She tripped me! You saw it!” I’m on the verge of tears now. I grit my teeth, a part of me wanting to slap the ice pack out of his hand.
“Because if I would have reacted back on that trail, I would have lost my temper, Lakes. I would have been fired for yelling in her fucking face.” Torres pulls his hand away and stands up. I notice his jaw is ticking the way it was when he told Melanie to go, and one of his hands is balled into a fist. “Her father donates a lot to this college. She gets away with a lot of shit and we have to look the other way when it happens. You aren’t the first person she’s tormented. She’s been a nightmare since joining this damn team.”
I don’t even know how to react to that, but I am so pissed. I’m so angry, and trust me, it takes a lot to make me angry, but this? This is unfair. I never did anything to Melanie for her to treat me this way.
Who cares that Melanie’s dad donates to the school? She tripped her own teammate because she got mad that she couldn’t keep up! She tripped me to feel superior!
“She’s a fucking bitch!” I shout, and damn my voice for wavering.
Torres crouches just as I drop my head and my bottom lip quivers. My tears have blinded me at this point and my throat is raw as I try to fight some of those tears. I don’t want to cry over an ignorant person like Melanie and her selfish actions, but I am, and that makes me even angrier.
“Look, Lakes—Amber.” He sighs, and for a split second, I stop sobbing because it’s the first time I’ve heard him say my real name. “I’ll speak to Hamilton privately. Tell her what I saw. Hamilton is good for situations like this. I’ll tell her to cut Melanie out of practice for a few weeks, might even tell her to seat her for the first couple of races. She won’t get away with what she did.”
“Why can’t you just cut Melanie out?”
“Because I’m just an assistant coach. I have to discuss this with Hamilton. She’s the one in charge.”
“That’s not fair and you know it!” I bite into my bottom lip until it hurts. “God, I hate it here!” I whimper, throwing my head back and closing my eyes. “I hate it here so much. My mom was right. She said I wouldn’t fit in here.”