about me making it through, but for all I know, he was hoping to see me drown.
The sadness that clings to him when I’m around says he’s worried about me, but I don’t want to think about that.
I then have to run for another quarter mile, the ground far more rough and dangerous in wet, slimy shoes. I’m freezing and my thighs are chafing, thanks to the water and the shorts, and I kinda want to die.
I’m going to call North and tear strips off of him for this stupid class.
The trees clear again and I find most of the other students running away from the next obstacle, already having completed it and gaining more of a lead on me. I can spot Gabe’s back as he leaves me behind, without a second glance this time, and I take a deep breath.
Barbed wire is strung up along posts, low to the ground, as the students all army-crawl their way under it. By the time they each make it out on the other side, they’re covered in dirt and mud, scrapes and cuts along their arms because this isn’t about pushing us all, it’s about destroying our wills and breaking us down.
I don’t wait around this time, the longer I look at the barbed wire, the less I want to crawl under it, so there’s still other students making their way through it in front of me. Granted, they’re all taking it a lot better than I am, barely making a goddamn sound while I’m grunting and panting my way through, but I try not to focus on that.
At least being out of shape helps me shimmy my way under the wire, thanks to my complete lack of ass. I take the lead over the girl in front of me, thanks to her having to watch out for her amazing bubble butt. I’m no longer jealous that she has one.
Okay, I’m still just a little jealous.
My arms are torn to pieces when I finally get to the end and I have to do my best to brush away the gravel and sticks that are glued to the wounds. The girl I shimmied past doesn’t bother cleaning herself up, she just throws me a savage look and sprints off down the path like this is all a regular Friday afternoon for her.
What a freaking psycho.
I take the next quarter mile at a slow jog, every part of my body screaming for me to stop. There’s definitely going to be blisters all over my poor, soggy feet when this shit is over with. I focus on my breathing and tell myself that this is all going to end soon. I could be wrong, there could be fifty more stupid things to climb under and over and through, but my mind might break if I think about it too much.
When the clearing finally appears out of nowhere, tears are prickling at the corners of my eyes and my nose is running. I must look like a complete mess and I’m grateful that no one is around to see me like this.
The next obstacle is an A-frame with netting over it and a large pool of muddy water underneath it, a smell wafting up from it that turns my stomach. If I fall in that, there’s a one hundred percent chance of me ending up with a flesh-eating bacteria, so even if I’m going to bomb out of this shit today, this is not the obstacle I’m going to tank on.
I’m not sure any of my Bonds would believe I need medical care before I freaking died.
My arms shake and my fingers are completely numb as I try to grasp the rope netting, so I slow down, race be damned, and gingerly test out my grip until I’m sure I’m not going to slip and fall before I start the climb over the A-frame. I don’t give a damn if I’m the last person to cross the line, getting there is enough for me.
I can think about the team when the team starts to give a fuck about me.
When I reach the top, I have to take a second to choke down the vomit climbing up my throat, the coppery tang of blood in my mouth, and I just sit there and take some deep, gulping breaths. I can see the end of the course from here, the line of trees right before the gate to get the hell out of this hellhole, and I