Page 105 of The Baller

Fuck Disney for claiming to be the happiest place on earth. It wasn’t.

The Four Seasons, Washington D.C., had just taken that title.

TWENTY-ONE

RADLEY

When you’re not payingattention to the clock on the treadmill, you can really pound out the miles. I was about to hit the six-mile marker, and at under forty-seven minutes, I was pretty darn happy with myself.

Who knew the frat boys would be responsible?

When I’d first come into the gym a little over an hour ago, I’d headed straight to the cardio floor and the treadmill I’d reserved. I might be coming to the gym alone, but there was no way I’d be wandering about waiting for a machine to become available. Therefore, like any sensible person, I’d made a plan: run, then weights.

Ipicked a time which Millie said would be quiet, but not too quiet. There needed to be enough students in here that I’d feel borderline uncomfortable, but not so many that I’d have a panic attack. That time had been decided as ten-thirty a.m.

When I arrived, a couple of girls were working on the elliptical machines; a group of four guys on bikes who looked like they were all racing together, and some guys on the treadmills at the far end of the row. Thankfully, the furthest away from the very last one, which I’d booked.

Meg and Ava were under strict instructions to work out somewhere people wouldn’t notice them, not close enough that I’d be able to feel their presence. I needed to be as alone as I could legitimately be with my permanent bodyguards in tow.

In the forty-seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds I’d been running, every treadmill in the bank had become occupied.

Ten minutes after I set off, a guy at the very end with a sleeve of tattoos and wearing a Maroon 5 t-shirt noticed me. I knew he’d noticed me because he tripped up on the running belt and nearly went flying off the end. Once his friends stopped laughing, they noticed me too.

Mirrors were a real pain in the ass.

Instead of watching where I was going, I’d been watching the cardio floor fill up behind me. Sure, it could just be that I’d hit the gym during rush hour, except I recognized two of the newcomers as part of a group that followed me out of class at the beginning of the semester, and none of them were being particularly secretive about using their cells.

I’d been running too fast for panic to set in. I was concentrating too hard on keeping my breathing even – the way my track coach had taught me – to let anxiety take over. The endorphins were doing the rest of the work and barricading my mind against the dread.

I responded by turning up the speed.

If they wanted to video me, they could do it while I busted my ass.

For the final half mile while my lungs shredded themselves, my entire focus was taken by watching Holiday’s emerald clover bouncing at the base of my throat. I set my rhythm so each foot hit the belt as the clover hit my skin, by the time my legs were ready to give way, I’d run seven miles.

I could do this.

I was brave enough.

In between labored gasps for air, I summoned the words I’d heard over and over from Lux, Millie, and Holiday’s clover: I was brave.

I wasn’t fragile like a flower; I was fragile like a bomb.

Maroon 5 and his friends were snickering down the end of the row when I stepped off my treadmill. I ignored the eyes that tracked me as I walked past, until I stopped in front of their machine. The other two guys were in Columbia Lions soccer shirts, and the three of them were so busy looking at their cell screens, they hadn’t noticed I was standing behind them. In fact, they were so engrossed I nearly lost my nerve.

Instead, I cleared my throat.

Maroon 5 was the first one to spot me, and as he turned, it occurred to me his t-shirt wasn’t ironic, and under any other circumstances I’d probably find him hot, in that tattooed Adam Levine style. But there as something about the way his eyelid flickered and narrowed, without a shred of guilt at being caught, that made me want to punch him in the face. The twitch in his lip wasn’t helping his cause either.

My fist balled at my side. “Get some good content, did you?”

He stood and stared at me. To the credit of the other two, they looked guilty enough for everyone in here, not just their tatted buddy. I didn’t know what was worse; their silence or their lack of denial.

“It’s a real asshole move videoing a girl without her permission. Maybe ask next time, or better yet, don’t do it at all.” I scanned around the three of them, and added, “Or maybe none of you have the balls to speak to girls in the first place.” I left it there for ten seconds of silent staring. “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your workout. Try not to fall off the treadmill again.”

A horrified laugh blew out of one of them as I walked away to where Meg and Ava were standing. The shaking started as I rounded the corner toward the exit; an earthquake rumbling inside me, pulsating outwards from deep in my belly, and when I spotted the bathroom entrance, I ran.

“Be right back!” I called to Meg and Ava, and ducked into the nearest free stall.

---