Chapter 16 Ch. 12.2
When Zara reached the cross-country field, her coach was already pacing and checking her timer, arms crossed tightly against her chest like she had been waiting to explode the moment someone stepped out of line.
"Zara. You're late."
"Yeah, I'm aware," Zara said, dropping her bag by the bench and pulling her hoodie off. "My friend kinda had an... accident in the lab."
"Your friend. Not you. So you should be here early. I don’t care what happened to someone else," the coach snapped. "You're a state champion, but you’re already slacking like someone who doesn’t know what she wants. I am not going to waste my time on an athlete who isn’t serious about her races."
Zara tied her laces without looking up. "Yeah. Okay. Whatever."
It didn’t matter anymore. Everyone always had something to say wbout her effort, her timing, her performance. It never stopped.
The coach clapped once. "Drills first. Five minutes. Then we do three miles. I want your best pace."
Zara joined the rest of her team, stretching out her legs and arms. She could hear a few girls whispering near the back, but she didn’t care. She bent, straightened, shook her arms, did everything on autopilot. Her head was somewhere else.
"Alright, line up. Three miles. I want your best," the coach shouted.
They took off.
Zara ran, focusing on her breath, keeping her feet steady, counting her steps. The sun was still high in the sky, and the air was dry and hot. She could feel the sweat building behind her neck, and her arms were already sticky.
She passed two girls quickly, then kept a steady pace with Reina, not wanting to overthink anything, not wanting to fall too far behind, just focused on keeping her legs moving.
But as she neared the last stretch, her breath caught weirdly in her throat. She blinked, thinking it would pass, but then a strange shock rushed through her chest, like someone had slammed her from the inside.
She stopped.
Her hands flew to her chest, and she bent forward slightly, trying to breathe through it, her eyes blurry and her head light, but her feet stayed frozen in place. Reina passed her, sprinting right past the finish line.
"Reina! Great pace! That’s what I’m talking about!" the coach shouted.
Then she turned.
"Zara, what is this? You stopped before the finish line? Look at Reina giving everything, and you're slacking off again!"
Zara didn’t answer. She was still gripping her chest, trying to breathe through it. The pain wasn’t as strong anymore, but it was still there.
"You want to lose your spot? Keep this up. I swear, I don’t care what title you hold, if you keep slowing down and acting like you’re too special to train, you won’t make it to the next race."
That was it.
Zara stood up slowly and turned around.
"I wasn’t slacking," she said. "I was in pain. But you wouldn’t care about that, would you? You only care about who's winning."
"Excuses," the coach muttered. "If you’re hurt, say it. Don’t just stop like you're throwing a tantrum."
Zara stared at her, jaw clenched, then shook her head and turned around, walking off the track without another word.
She could hear her teammates muttering behind her.
"Why is she such a bitch?"
"God, she always thinks she can do whatever she wants."
"So dramatic. It’s just a run."
Zara walked faster, not looking back.
She wasn’t going to wait for her dad. She didn’t care if he was done coaching Ethan or not. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to hear anyone call her dramatic or tell her she wasn't giving her best. She didn’t want to be looked at like she was just acting out.
She just wanted to get away from everyone and everything. And for once, she wasn’t going to explain herself.
About an hour later, she got home, her bag slung lazily over one shoulder, and her legs aching like she had been dragging herself for miles. She walked in, just went straight up the stairs to her room, pushing the door open with one arm.
The first thing she saw was the plate of pasta still sitting on her reading table.
"Oh, ew," she muttered, scrunching her nose as the smell hit her.
She picked it up carefully, holding it far away from her face, the pasta looked mushy and kind of grey at the edges, and it smelled like something sour had crawled into it and died.
She carried it down to the kitchen and dumped it straight into the trash.
Then she turned on the tap and started washing the rest of the dishes that were already piled in the sink.
She didn’t even know why she was doing it, maybe it was the smell or maybe she just needed to do something with her hands.
The water ran over her fingers and the sponge slipped a few times, but she kept going, scrubbing harder.
"Zara, what the hell is wrong with you?" her dad said from behind her.
She froze.
Great, can't even have the house to myself this once.
She turned to him slowly. "What?"
"Your coach called me. Told me you ran off during training."
"We already ran three miles. What more does she want? We did the drills, we ran the miles. I ran my three miles. And I left."
He looked frustrated and moved closer. "Why did you leave without saying anything? We were supposed to go home together. Noah said he searched the whole school looking for you. He couldn’t even find you."
"I didn’t ask him to. And I didn’t want to wait around."
He opened his mouth to say something else.
"Just leave me alone," she said quickly.
She dropped the sponge in the sink, turned off the tap, wiped her hands against her shorts and stormed past him, heading up the stairs again, two steps at a time.
She pushed her door open and dropped onto the bed, sinking into it like she could disappear inside the sheets.
She grabbed her pillow and hugged it to her chest.
Then the pain hit her again.