Chapter Twenty-Seven

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Tensions between the groups only grew worse after we ran laps around the field

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Tensions between the groups only grew worse after we ran laps around the field. What was supposed to be three short rounds turned into an agonizing ten. Coach Miller had added an extra lap every time anyone shoved someone in the back or kicked dirt into another person's eye. By the time we returned to the center of the field and sat in a circle around Coach Miller, mud fingerprints covered Izzy's arms, and someone had ripped a piece of Dorothy's blue gym tee. Both acted innocent when the coach's attention strayed from his book.

Each gulp of air into my shrunken lungs shot a sharp, stabbing pain under my ribs. It would've been embarrassing if everyone else weren't also some form of a sweat-bucket too.

Running that much in one go left us too drained to bicker. Audibly, that is. We were still dirty and even more resentful than before. The glares while everyone waited on the ground around for the coach to do something intensified tenfold compared to the start of practice. It didn't help that every person sat sandwiched between a member of the opposite team. Hazel and Dorothy sat on either side of me with their clunky elbows jabbing into my side.

I half-expected Dorothy to warn me away from her sister again, only this time loud enough for Hazel to hear. Of course, that could then prompt Hazel to ask about our up-and-coming double date loud enough for Rosie to hear and explode that plan right in front of my face. The thought alone made me try to keep my body parts away from the two girls next to me, afraid that any annoyance would set them off.

Coach Miller flicked through his self-help book, not paying attention to the rolling of eyes, the scoffing, or the exchanges of judgmental stares. But what he did pick up on was the vibe.

"The pushing, the glaring, and the whispering all need to end. You're a team now. You need to act like it. You need to rely on and trust each other. Otherwise, you won't get very far in Seattle. Either school won't pay for the trip unless we see true cooperation from you. That goes for all of you. In that spirit, let's start some trust exercises . . ." Coach Miller scanned each person and stopped when his gaze landed on me. "Kate Wilson. Let's start with you."

"Why me?" My voice came out crackly. Everyone's focus turned to me. "We're going to sit in a circle and tell each other embarrassing stories about ourselves? Pass."

Rosie, who sat between Izzy and Dan at the opposite end of the circle, retorted, "You can't talk to him like that. He's your coach, now. Show him some respect."

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, cupping my ear. "I didn't hear you over the sound of the unicorns galloping in your pants."

Her mouth fell open; disbelief plain on her face.

"What sort of twisted flirting is this?" Dorothy asked, earning a subdued and reluctant nod of agreement from Izzy.

"She's obsessed with my underwear," Rosie explained, turning big, wide, and innocent eyes toward Coach Miller. "Coach, there has to be a rule against that, right?"

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