Pep Talks (Pepper Jones #4) (13 page)

The five of us stay up chatting for a while after that. It seems each of them has a bad breakup story of their own, or knows one about someone else, and I find myself laughing for the first time in weeks. It’s hard, though, because this feels like so much more than just another bad breakup.

Jace

Watching Pepper rush out of my apartment building, knowing I’ve hurt her,
again
, is fucking torture. But when the rage overtakes me, I’m filled with hot anger, directed at myself mostly. My fist is already through the door frame before I realize what I’ve done.

“Fuck!” I growl. Gathering myself, I turn to Melanie. “Can you leave? We’re done studying.” Being an asshole to this girl is not something I care about right now. I need her gone. She knew well enough what she was getting into when she started hanging around me while I still had a girlfriend. I’ve had to push her advances off more than once, but she keeps coming over to study for tests in our finance class, and it’s easier sometimes to let her than to get her to go away. Totally regretting not giving her the boot sooner now, though. I don’t even want to think about what Pepper thinks she saw. I’d just pulled off my shirt to change after spilling coffee on it when she knocked. If only I’d taken two damn seconds to pull another one on. But no, this will push Pepper away, and that’s the right thing to do.

I can sense Melanie lingering, wanting to approach me, so I make my point clear by going into my bedroom and slamming the door. The thud is satisfying but my hand twitches, wanting to pound on something again. Knowing I can’t mess with my throwing hand, I check my phone to see who’s texted me about what’s going on tonight. As soon as I hear the front door close, I pull on a sweatshirt and shove my feet in some shoes before grabbing my wallet and heading outside.

First, I jog in the direction of Pepper’s dorm. I don’t expect her to still be out, but I’m disappointed not to see her. I’ve been such a fucking creeper lately following her around at a distance. This time, I just stand for a moment outside, gazing at her window, wondering what she’s doing. But if I stand too long, my mind starts to think too hard about things I can’t think about, so after a moment, I head to the bars.

Alcohol and women still don’t appeal to me. I’ll have a drink or two, but mostly I go out to avoid being alone in my head. Kicking ass in football and class is easy when I’m desperately trying to escape being alone with myself. Because I really hate myself, almost as much as I hate Annie for making me such a fucking hateful guy. Football and school aren’t always enough, and when they fail me, I surround myself with people.

What matters is that I’ve still got my thoughts and emotions under wraps. The only person who can make my control slip is Pepper, and that’s why I’ve got to stay away.

Pepper

Fury is my middle name this week. It’s the engine that gets me through each day. I’m red-hot with it, and it’s directed at one extraordinarily attractive dark-haired guy, who had the audacity to move on like I meant nothing to him. For all I know, he was with this Melanie girl before he officially broke up with me. I don’t even mind thinking these horrible thoughts about him because it adds fuel to my engine of anger.

The championship season is in full force, and it’s crazy how it snuck up on me. In high school, it seemed like I was waiting forever to get to the important meets. The UC cross schedule consists of the scrimmage in September, two big invitationals in October, the Conference Championship and then the Regional Championship in November, and finally Nationals in December.  Unless the entire team comes down with the flu or something, the assumption is that the team (at least the top seven) is going to Nationals. Knowing that Nationals is more or less a guaranteed thing is incredibly helpful in terms of training. The past two seasons, I didn’t know when my season might be over.

I’ve been the top runner on the team at the last two invitationals, but I still don’t put any pressure on myself to repeat that feat at the conference meet today. Unlike at Brockton Public, all five of the top runners on the team could beat one another on any given day. At practice, we’re right by each other’s sides, and Kiki, Sienna, Trish and Gina have been less than a minute behind me at the last two meets. 

Lexi and Caroline have traded off for sixth and seventh place, and I know they are feeling the pressure to hold their places on the lineup today. This is the last meet that allows twelve runners per team, and Coach will have to make a call about which seven runners go on to Regionals. If Lexi and Caroline are six and seven again, the decision will be easy. Another freshman, Wren Jackson, occasionally keeps up with the top group at workouts, but none of our other teammates have placed in the top seven on the team at a race this season. Still, anything can happen at a cross race.

I’ve managed to channel all my bitterness toward Jace into my legs, and I’m in the lead when we head into the final mile. There are several other runners breathing down my neck as the realization that I might just win the Conference Championship hits me. With it, my legs remind me that I’ve just let loose with no regard for pacing or restraint for several miles, and the finish is nowhere in sight. My quads contract, signaling that I’m near my limit.

Reluctantly, I give in to my screaming muscles, acknowledging that I can’t run on emotions alone, although it sure is fun to try. I gave it my best shot, but if I want to finish this race with any dignity, it’s time to simmer down fiery Pepper before I go down in flames.

Letting the girls behind me take over, I settle in behind them, recognizing two of my teammates in the group. With three of us up front like this, we’ve got a shot at taking the team championship, even if the rest of the team is farther back. With one kilometer to go, Gina pulls away from the group, and another runner stays at her shoulder.

I’m sucking in oxygen, doing all I can to hold on as the group begins to break up, some picking it up to sprint to the finish, while a couple, including myself, struggle to maintain this pace. A few runners come up from behind and pass us, which is the worst feeling ever, but there’s really nothing I can do to go any faster. I’m not all that disappointed when I cross the finish line in fourteenth place. I really didn’t feel like I had a choice but to approach this race like I did – all in. If I’d given in to any other emotion aside from anger, I’d probably still be at the starting line, curled up in a ball.

I’m still not sure if Gina pulled off the win or got second place, so I look around the finish area for her. Either way, congratulations are in order. She’s past the crowds, hands on hips, watching the rest of the runners pull through the finish line. Even from a distance, the greyish hue of her skin gives me goosebumps. Most of the other runners are flushed and rosy from the exertion, but not Gina.  As I near her, I notice she’s swaying ever so slightly, like it’s taking all of her energy to stay on two feet.

When I reach her and touch her shoulder to ask if she’s all right, her skin is cold and clammy. “Gina?”

She blinks several times. “Hey, Pepper, I don’t feel so good. I’m going to sit down.” When she stumbles, I catch her and help her to the ground.

Kiki joins us, and we exchange worried glances. “I’ll go see if someone from the medical tent can come over here,” I murmur before running toward the white tent I spotted earlier. I’m back a moment later with a medic, who begins examining Gina and asking questions.

This isn’t anything I’ve witnessed at a running race before. I’ve see girls puke, faint, collapse, and even pee themselves, but Gina’s condition scares me because it’s so bizarre. I don’t know how anyone can be cold after running so fast, especially because it’s fairly warm out. The Conference meet is in Arizona, and even though it’s early November, there are no signs here that winter is coming. It’s already snowed a few times in Brockton.

While Gina is brought to the medical tent, Sienna and Kiki lead the rest of us in a cool down. Caroline and Lexi finished in the top seven on our team again, and I’m relieved that they will both be continuing on with the final two meets. Based on how well the top five did today, I’m assuming we took the win, but the team remains sedate as we silently jog around a field near the course. We’re all worried about Gina, and it doesn’t feel right to celebrate without her, especially since she led the team today.

Lexi accompanies me to the restrooms while the rest of the girls cheer on the guys’ team. I can tell she’s champing at the bit to get me alone. She didn’t see Gina before she went to the medical tent, and she grills me on what happened. I don’t have much to tell her.

“Didn’t you wonder why Gina was the only one who wasn’t at that little pow-wow last week?” she asks when I’ve finished describing Gina’s condition.

“You mean the one where you all told me to eat more?” I try to sound amused, like it was no big deal.

“Yeah, and don’t be a smartass. It wasn’t just about that, and you know we were right. You’ve been eating like a horse all week since we brought it to your attention.”

I laugh. It’s true. I still don’t have my usual appetite, but it bothers me that my problems caused so much concern, and I don’t want them worrying about me anymore. I also know that they were right. Losing weight so fast like I did is bad news, especially going into championship season. I really needed to snap out of it, and I have. Anger might not be the healthiest emotion, but it’s better than the self-pity, sadness, and confusion I was drowning in.

“I noticed Gina wasn’t there, but thought maybe she had something else going on, or it would have been too much with more than four of you bombarding me.”

Lexi turns to me now, looking more serious than I’ve ever seen her. We’ve both done our business, washed our hands, and are now lingering by the sinks, trying to keep our conversation in a private space.

“Before you came back, we had a similar conversation with Gina. Caroline wasn’t part of it, just me, Sienna, and Kiki. Hers went a little differently though.”

My heart rate picks up. It really sucks being confronted like that, and I can’t even imagine how defensive I would have felt if losing weight like I did had been intentional. If I’d been obsessing about my diet. “She didn’t take it well, did she?”

Lexi shakes her head. “Gina acted like we were crazy. I mean, I guess I sort of expected some denial, but she was so far from talking about it that the conversation went nowhere.”

“Look, are you sure there’s something going on?”

Lexi frowns, clearly disliking this question. “Sienna approached
me
about it, without
any
prompting on my part,” she replies, and I don’t miss the defensive tone in her voice. “You didn’t know Gina last year, but she’s a lot thinner and a lot faster than she used to be.”

“Yeah, but, we run a lot more than I did in high school. I’m sure a lot of bodies change with all this training.”

Lexi sighs. “I’d love to be wrong about it, I really would.” She sounds defeated, and I pull her in for a hug.

“I’m sorry to question you, and I’m worried about her too. Maybe I just don’t want it to be true either.”

We break away, and Lexi’s cheeks are wet. “You know, you hear about eating disorders at running camps and we had a speaker talk to our high school team once, but it always seemed like something that only happens to other people we don’t know. It never seemed real. Sometimes we’d joke about it, even, if we saw a super-skinny runner on another team. But all the things you hear about, I think it’s happening to Gina, Pepper, and I don’t know how to help her.”

Gina’s quiet when she joins us later. We’re all nosy, grilling her about what happened, but she brushes it off as nothing more than post-race fatigue. When she stands on the top podium, accepting her plaque, I do notice that her body has morphed since the beginning of the season. It’s not a healthy runner’s physique that stands up there, but a bony frame, with knees and shoulder blades jutting. Her calves and quads are so sharply defined they look like they might break through the skin. Maybe I didn’t want to see it before, or it didn’t stick out in the midst of so many slight builds that surround me at practice each day. But it’s pretty unmistakable now that I’m paying attention, and it’s silly that I tried to deny what’s going on.

I know Gina has just had the best race of her life, but the smile on her face is a sad one, and I ache for her.

We get back to campus early Sunday morning, and Gran’s invited the entire girls’ team over to our tiny apartment for brunch. She’d invite the boys’ team too, but we simply wouldn’t be able to fit everyone inside.

Gran has become the team’s grandmother, and she takes her role pretty seriously. When she fractured her hip, it started out with just my roommates joining in visits to see her and do her errands. When my other teammates heard my roommates talking about Gran, they all wanted to meet her, and now my apartment on Shadow Lane has UC runners stopping by daily. Gran’s eating it up.

She’s outdone herself making brunch, with Lulu’s help of course. They must have woken up at the crack of dawn because there’s just about every breakfast food imaginable covering our kitchen counter and dining room table.

Gran disappears at some point while we’re eating and reemerges from her room with a black trash bag balanced on top of the walker she’s been relegated to using for a few months. She’s beaming, and there’s a twinkle in her eye I rarely see. This exuberance only comes out if she’s cheering me on at a race or giving presents.

Proudly, she begins to unload the bag, and my jaw drops when I see she’s knit hats for every single person on the team, with our initials included so we don’t get them mixed up. They are striped in black and gold, the school colors, with pompoms on the top.