The Dorm Guard 35 Chapter Thirty-Five: Track And Turbulence

*

I hadn't worn the school sports uniform since I got to White Winter Prep, for my sports cla.s.ses I could bring my own pants to wear. To oversimplify, girls and boys wore navy blue shorts and a white T-s.h.i.+rt with the school's fox and s.h.i.+eld insignia. It took every ounce of mental effort in me to not pick out the wedgie the shorts were causing.

I stood by Amada on the track fields, watching a couple of dozen kids stretching and chatting with each other. There seemed to be a mix of boys and girls trying out for the track team.

Amada tugged on my arm, "How many people will make the team?"

I shrugged, "I think twelve make the racing team, but everyone makes the training track team," I informed, "If you don't make the racing team then you're still part of the track team just not on a compet.i.tive level."

Amada gulped, "So it doesn't matter if I completely stuff this up?"

I smiled, "You won't stuff this up, buddy."

"I think I'm going to be sick," he confessed leaning forwards.

I managed to catch him before he tried to sit down, "No. None of that, stay with me." I hoisted him back to his feet and held his shoulders, "You've got this, mate. I'm right here, and your sister is in the stands to watch." I gestured to the benches on the side of the track field, amidst the empty bleachers was his twin sister Amia, along with Mia who was reading beside her. When we caught her eye, Amia stood up in her seat and waved down at us. Amada waved back with less enthusiasm. "Just try your best. I'll be here the whole time."

There was a loud whistle trill as Coach Morrison stood up from his table. Coach was a hard man to miss. The uniforms for P.E teachers were bright yellow so that they were easy to see from the sidelines of any game, and good thing too, because everything from his short brown hair to his stubby nose was completely unnoticeable. He had a loud voice though, which he boomed across the small crowd of students.

"Listen up!" he demanded as he held up his clipboard, "This is track tryouts. Please understand if you don't get into the compet.i.tive team that does not mean you are not in the track team. We accept everyone on the afternoon athletics team, in fact, we need them, they are vital to ensuring the top-notch quality of the compet.i.tive team." He cleared his throat after his little ramble, "So please do not be disheartened if you don't make the compet.i.tive grouping."

Coach Morrison was the coach of almost every team-based sport in the school, be it soccer, football, basketball, or anything. The only one he didn't try his hand at was netball and lacrosse since that was the other Coach's sports, Coach Jarvis.

Coach Morrison continued his speech about how we were all champions in his eyes and thanking us for coming out. "These tryouts are going to be like a normal training session. Those who have ever been on the track team will know about it, those who are new, it simply means a bunch of relays and certain athletics activities." He paused for a second and smirked at something. "The concept is pretty simple here, kids. You literally just have to run. Form and posture isn't important here, we will teach those things later on if needed."

Amada started hyperventilating next to me. I looked to him, "Buddy, what's wrong?" I whispered. He stared with wide eyes through the crowd of other students, but before I could find them, Coach boomed, "Those already on the compet.i.tive team from last term stand on my right, those trying out stand on my left!"

People started to s.h.i.+ft around, more going on the left then the right, but I saw a few familiar faces already on the team. That girl from the start of the year that had chased Amada down the hall, Ashley I think, was standing amongst them in all her Amazon quality glory. A handful of primarily older kids, namely from my year and Alexis' year, that I recognised from the playground were there. But what I ultimately found, and what made an involuntary sigh out of me, was the sight of the Delinquents. All five of them stood by one another, nudging each other playfully in the side as they spoke in hushed tones.

Dylan stood on the edge of the group, hands in pockets, as he looked around at the other students, occasionally looking to his friends before turning his attention back to the Coach and his words.

"Amada," I looked to him, "You're okay. They're just here for track, that's all. It has nothing to do with you."

He looked close to vomiting. "I think I'm really going to be sick."

I groaned as I pressed a hand to my face. "Amada, now isn't the time for this."

"We're going to go in groups. Years seven, eight, you start first. You'll be doing two laps of the whole track!" About a dozen students started moving off. "Nine and ten, get ready."

I sighed, I still had time to calm Amada down. I allowed Amada to sit down when he started feeling dizzy. "Amada, listen to me. You need to calm down. You're freaking yourself out."

Amada tried to voice his worry, but he started retching. I patted him on the back. When I looked up to the bleachers, Amia was standing and looking on, worried. I tried to wave her away, but she started down the benches to the ground. Mia had yet to lift her head.

I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose, mentally cursing as I continued to try and soothe the worried Amada.

"Having troubles there?" Dylan's voice cut through the cloud forming in my head.

Upon hearing his voice, Amada stopped hyperventilating, going in the complete opposite direction of not breathing at all. I sighed through my nose as I stood between the two, Dylan's other friends wandering over with him. "No offence, but can you leave. You're freaking him out."

"Him?" Connor said with a head tilt, "Finally got the b.a.l.l.s to try for something, girlie?"

Amada's breathing started hitching again. "Leave him be," Dylan said, "Poor kid looks freaked out enough as it is."

The smirk remained on Connor however, making me want to punch his nose in.

"No need to be nervous though," one of the other Delinquents said, adopting a cobra stance as he looked down at Amada, "I a.s.sume you know how to run."

"I'm asking nicely," I said slowly, "Can you please leave him alone for this?"

"Oh, the newbie does have manners?" Connor cooed stepping forwards and into my bubble of s.p.a.ce.

I clicked my tongue, not wanting to resort to threats, I countered, "Nice observation skills, dropkick."

All but Dylan responded with a smirk, even Connor. I felt strange standing in their presence, as if a little under a month ago when they attacked me with sports equipment had never happened. I didn't feel in danger in their presence, not even nervous. I considered it was because of their lack of weaponry.

"Alright, years nine and ten, line up!" Coach bellowed when the first years stumbled over the starting line again.

Connor and one other Delinquent shouldered and elbowed another Delinquent who went to line up. Dylan patted him on the back and wished him luck. Amada was in year nine and wouldn't move.

"Amada," I held his shoulders, but he looked too dazed to look at me.

"Are you okay?" Amia had made it over to us, a hand on her brother's shoulder. She seemed slightly nervous in the presence of the Delinquents but responded by trying to appear taller. "Can I try talking to him alone?"

I dropped my arms from his shoulders and nodded. Amia yelled out to the Coach, asking for a minute as she guided her brother away from the boys and started talking to him. Whether Coach simply knew her or Amada, he allowed the extra minute wait.

I kept an eye on the two as they spoke, waiting for Amada to come back over. Dylan approached me, his eyes looking on the twins too, "Looks like they're talking into a mirror," he commented, "You know, minus the clothes differences."

His comment made me smile. "When I first moved into the dorm, figuring out who was who was a nightmare," I said.

Dylan had a charming laugh, very genuine but not loud or obnoxious. "How can you tell the difference?" He tilted his head in their direction, Amada's sports clothes verses Amia's school skirt made a distinct difference, but he was making a comparison between hair, limbs and physiques.

"I don't know how they look so similar," I confessed, "But an obvious difference is Amia wears a bra, and sometimes you can see the strap. Otherwise, you're screwed." I tilted my head at the pair as well in thought. "In their off time, they have different dress styles sometimes. Like Amada wears darker coloured shoes while Amia likes her flashy white ones."

Dylan shook his head, pressing a finger to his forehead. "I've got no chance."

I bit the inside of my cheek, distracted by the remaining Delinquents play fighting each other while they waited. Dylan seemed much calmer than his friends, or perhaps they were more childish, but I wondered why he hung out with them. Surely the stigma of being called a Delinquent wasn't good, and seeing how he acted around them, like when he brushed off Connor's attempts at engaging him in the play fighting, he didn't seem as involved with them. Were they friends?

Before I could even breach the subject, Coach blew his whistle. "Romano!" he yelled, "Times up!"

Amia looked over to Coach and nodded, turning back to her brother and offering a few more comforting gestures before ultimately shoving him back towards me and walking back to the bleachers.

Amada still looked rattled, but he marched past both the Delinquents and me, not giving either of us a second glance, and even ignoring a snide remark made by one of them, to stand amongst the other year nine and ten students.

I looked back to Amia, who had replaced herself next to Mia and watched on. I felt a lump form in my throat as I heard Coach Morrison yell the stances for the runners, followed by the ear-piercing trill of his whistle.

I couldn't find Amada amongst the small crowd. At first, they were all clumped together, either too inexperienced or too jarred to try running ahead of the group or to linger behind. The track itself was only four hundred meters, by the two-fifty mark the groupings started to separate. From a distance, I couldn't tell who was running out the front or lingered behind, by the halfway mark a few figures had a strong lead on the other students until there was one lone figure several strides ahead of second place.

Ashley stormed past the finish line, unable to stop herself from how fast she had sprinted. Moments later, another girl crossed the line, a boy, and then finally Amada, who stumbled when he tried to slow himself down. He leaned heavily on his knees as the rest of year nine and ten followed behind him.

I jogged over to him, hand on his back, "Look at you! Top five in the warm-up run."

Amada managed a smile between puffs, managing to straighten himself before grumbling, "Warm-up run?"

*

The setting sun had coated everything in orange and yellow. White Winter Prep was beginning to close up for the afternoon, even the after-school clubs had started to disband for the day, but the track team tryouts were only just coming to an end. By this point, people were sitting down, going to refill their water bottles for the second time or, and this was where I could tell who the serious runners were, stretching and staying on their feet.

Girls like Ashley were gleaming with sweat and had an ever-present pant about her. I recognised it from compet.i.tive cycling, it was a technique to maintain heart rate and an even oxygen flow. She was chatting with some other girls while she stretched out her arms.

The Delinquents, as expected, stayed to themselves. Not on their own accord, but no one dared approach them. Unlike everyone else, they weren't in a state of exhaustion or out-of-breath-ness except for one who was sweating.

Amada had taken my advice and didn't sit down, but Amia and Mia had come down to the gra.s.s holding sweat towels and water bottles for us.

I was fitter then I thought I was.

Granted, I was fatigued after all the running, and some of the drills were painful on my legs, but I by far wasn't the slowest at the tryouts. Mia approached me to give me a towel, cringing likely at my body odour when she backed away and tossed the towel at me. I laughed and caught her, picking her up as she punched me in the arm to put her down.

I ignored her as I spoke to the twins. "You guys see Mia?" I joked, balancing the prodigy on my shoulder, "She was just here." Mia voiced a giggle as she tried to sit up, tapping me on the shoulder to get my attention. Dramatically, I twirled around, looking behind me for Mia. "Who did that?"

Mia's laughter caught the attention of people around us, many smiling in response to her infectious giggling.

"Oh well," I turned back to the twins, "How're you doing?" I nudged Amada's shoulder, my simple gesture making him sway.

"Running is hard," he confessed. Despite his whole body hunched over, his arms trembled as he leaned on his knees, his eyes darting around like a frightened rabbit.

"Amada, no one is looking at you," Amia a.s.sured standing in front of him. "Ashley isn't going to accuse you of cross-dressing, not after last time."

Amada looked down at his s.h.i.+rt, due to his sweat the whole thing was sticking to him, and in his sweaty state, his hair stuck to his skull in a way that wasn't very feminine. He pulled out his hair, "Can you re-tie it?" he requested holding the hair band out to his sister.

She rolled her eyes but nodded as she swapped the hair band for the water bottle and made quick work of his hair. Amada crossed his arms over his chest, hunching his shoulders to look small. Whether she realised it or not, Amia was mimicking her brother's body language.

Mia started kicking. I readjusted her, so she was sitting on my shoulder, "Mia! How'd you get there?" She knocked me lightly on the head, her face giving me an, 'You're such an idiot' look as I placed her down. The sweat from my shoulder transferred to the stomach of her blouse, to which she wasn't impressed. She took the extra water bottle she had brought down and sprayed me with it. It was a nice, fresh feeling on my otherwise overheating body.

"Did I do okay?" Amada eventually asked.

I scoffed, running the towel over my neck. "Okay? You were great, bud."

I was impressed by Amada's athletic ability. The tryouts went for three hours with several drills and little breaks between them. Amada maintained a quick pace in comparison to the rest of the kids, Coach even putting him up against the older students in year eleven and twelve. He kept up with a lot of the established compet.i.tive track members.

"You got this, bro," Amia a.s.sured hipping him. He laughed nervously, but his eyes still looked around at the other students, his discomfort taking over his sense of accomplishment.

"Becks!" Coach yelled.

Only a handful of people ever referred to me by my last name, and whenever people did, it was always jarring. I turned on my heels and saw Coach gesturing me over.

I balanced the towel on my shoulders and approached him, smiling when I reached him. "What's up, Coach?"

"You're one of the sport scholars.h.i.+p kids, right?" he asked looking at his clipboard.

From upside down, I could see he had a list of names with various symbols next to some, medicine cross, blue circles, yellow triangles, I couldn't find my name. "Yes, sir."

He considered the names before adding, "Why are you trying out for the track team then?" he asked, "This is the first team you've gone for."

I nodded, "I've been told to take it easy the first term, try out for stuff next term. But my friend Amada," I gestured behind me, "didn't want to join the track team alone."

I found my name on the clipboard with a red symbol beside it. "Heart condition." I couldn't tell if what he was saying was a question or a statement, but I nodded. He continued, "Is track safe for your condition?"

I frowned and refrained from sighing. "I have medication. There's basically nothing wrong with me so long as I take it," I a.s.sured, "I've been cleared to do sports."

Coach Morrison considered me for a moment before nodding. "I like you for this, Becks. But I hope to see you on some of my other teams." He placed a hand on my shoulder, "I've seen your record. You're a real a.s.set."

My ego felt inflated, but I suppressed my usual arrogance from surfacing. "Thanks, Coach."

He retracted his hand and nearly burst my eardrums bellowing out to everyone. "Gather 'round!" Everyone obeyed, forming a large circle around him as he explained how results will be posted on the school's website in the next few days. "Those who wish to stay regardless, we meet in the mornings every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday at 7:00am, and every afternoon for one hour after cla.s.ses. If you have any other club commitments, track shouldn't clash too significantly, unless you are part of the swim team."

He dismissed everyone with a wave and a demand we all shower.

I wondered what Amada was going to do when we got to the showers, but I noticed he disappeared into the disabled toilets. I didn't know there was a shower in there.

The boy's bathroom was cleaner then I antic.i.p.ated. The floor and walls were tiled a dark blue and connected to a room with closed off showers. One wall was dedicated to silver lockers, to which many utilised, and there were several benches to sit on throughout the room.

The older boys were more comfortable undressing in the bathroom while they chatted with each other, while the younger boys fled to a shower and closed the curtains. I was never comfortable getting changed in front of other guys, mainly because depending on the culture I was surrounded by you'd were labelled gay if you undressed in front of another man. While not a bad thing, it was ingrained in my head to get dressed in privacy.

I had started pulling out my clothes from my backpack when something whacked me on the behind.

I yelped in surprise as I turned, Dylan being the source of the whip as he recoiled his towel to do it again. He had undressed and was only wearing a towel that hung on his hips. I was distracted by how sleek and toned his midsection was. "Shy, newbie?" he joked as he flicked me again.

I didn't know where to look and opted to go back to my bag. "Nope. Just awkward," I confessed taking out my clothes.

"Where's Thing One?" he asked looping his towel around his shoulders.

I shrugged, "Maybe he's in one of the showers already?"

Dylan laughed, "Like he showers in here."

I tilted my head, "You look?" I asked zipping up my bag and placing it by one of the lockers.

"It's fun to tease," he confessed.

"Wouldn't think the boy's showers would be your scene," I said walking towards a free shower stall.

Dylan laughed. "You'd think rich kids would hate even the idea of community showers," he said trailing behind me. His comment did get a chuckle out of me as I stepped into a shower.

"I usually do this stuff on my own," I informed.

Dylan laughed and backed up, "Don't drop your soap," he countered disappearing to his own shower.

I rolled my eyes and closed the curtain. After a series of failed shower k.n.o.b attempts, I managed to get a decent enough temperature to get the sweat off.

But as I started rinsing off, I turned around and saw someone's hand reach into my shower and s.n.a.t.c.h up all my clothes; sports and all. I yelped in surprise and went to retrieve them, but the hand had successfully stolen both my clothes and, as it turns out, my towel. I tried not to curse as I turned off the power and peered my head out of the shower curtain.

Dylan was dressed by this point, but the Delinquents were all standing around my shower, each of them with one of my possessions. I sighed as I looked at him, "Seriously?"

Dylan shrugged as one of his friends showed off my wallet. "Rule number one of community showers, newbie; never leave your things alone."

I groaned as I closed the curtain, looking at what I could use to maintain a level of modesty when I leave the shower, but I was completely naked in a completely bare shower with nothing to my name except for my shampoo bottle and a loofa. I considered the curtain, but the material was too strong to rip and was screwed into the ceiling so it couldn't be pulled off. I pressed my arms to my face as the other boys taunted me.

Dylan's banter broke through theirs. "Shy now, newbie?"

"This isn't funny," I called back to him.

"To us it's hilarious," he replied.

"Don't you have anything better to do then to haze me?"

"Then embarra.s.s a friend? Nope."

"Oh, is this friends.h.i.+p? I wasn't quite sure."

"It's a strange thing," Dylan admitted, I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

"We wouldn't do this to just anyone, newbie," Connor chimed in.

"The solution isn't that hard," Dylan said mid-smirk, "Just come out and grab your things."

I peered out of the curtain again and noticed a phone in one of the Delinquent's hands. "Yeah none of them have a rap sheet…" I grumbled as I scanned the shower for something, "'They've done nothing wrong.'" I mocked Alexis' voice. "Screw you, Alexis, this is probably illegal somewhere." I pondered making a s.h.i.+eld for my privates out of shampoo bubbles, or perhaps going on the offensive and spray them with it, but the bottle was almost empty.

Mid-thought, I was interrupted by a buzzing sound. I jumped and looked down on the shower floor; my phone! It had slipped out of a pocket.

I picked it up and looked at who had texted me: Amada. He was wondering where I was.

I sighed as I started texting, keeping an eye on the curtain to make sure no one was going to open it. It was too much effort to text what was going on, so I called him. It rung for a while before he answered, "h.e.l.lo?"

"Hey, Amada."

"Where are you? Have you already left?" Amia had s.n.a.t.c.hed the phone from her brother.

"Uhh, no not quite."

"How'd he get a phone?" one of the Delinquents asked.

"Did you leave your things out in the open?" I heard Amada ask.

"Okay, is that some kind of rule I'm just not aware of?" I asked glancing out the curtain again.

"Why do you think there are lockers in the showers?" Amia had started laughing while Amada sounded genuinely worried. "Has someone stolen your clothes?"

"Oh, they're doing more than that," I said, "You guys wanna say hi?"

"Who's on the phone?" Dylan asked.

"Just the twins. They're wondering where I am."

"Oh, that's nice of them," he commented.

"You got cornered by the Delinquents?" Amada asked.

"Yeah, kinda. Can you help?" I asked.

"What would you have me do?" he quizzed, "There's five of them, in the boy's bathroom. I can't go in there."

I scoffed, "You are the very definition of a person that can come in here, Amada." I heard something crash, "And they aren't going to do anything, I just need you to get a towel." Pus.h.i.+ng aside the curtain, one of the boys had tossed my bag onto the roof of the lockers. "Guys come on."

"Just come out and stop them then." Dylan had yet to rise from his seat, instead he watched his friends throw my stuff around. He did, to some credit, stop them from breaking anything.

"Amada!" I hissed.

He refused to come into the boy's bathroom, too petrified by the Delinquents. But a moment later, I heard one of them go; "There are girls in here."

I had expected they thought Amada was a girl, or Amia had wandered in wearing her skirt, but Mia was the one to my rescue. She marched into the boy's shower room and looked around for me. Amia trailed in moments later, unlike Mia she had covered her eyes with her arm. "Mia, you can't just wander into the boy's showers. What if things are out?"

Amia's innocent expression made all the boys laugh as she ran into one of them. "Ahh! Sorry!" she yelped, hugging her arms to herself as she managed to find Mia. Amia lost her grip on her and made an exaggerated crying sound, "Oh my Gosh, Mia you're so weird. Come back."

Mia stood amongst the Delinquents, each stopping what they were doing to stare at her. "You hear to rescue your boyfriend?" Dylan asked, gesturing to my shower.

Mia nodded.

Dylan gestured to my shower with a head tilt. Mia approached me, and I sighed with relief. "Hey, kid," I greeted nervously.

She offered a small wave.

"Think you could get me a towel or something?" I requested, "If you can't wrestle it from that guy, I think there's a trolley of them near the entrance." Mia seemed to lose interest in my words, her eyes slowly dropping to her shorter level as she tried to peer into my shower. I tightened the curtain's obstruction, "Hey, eyes up here please."

Mia shook her head to gain her alertness to look back up to me, unable to hide her amus.e.m.e.nt at my situation. "Please, just get a towel."

Mia nodded as she looked around the shower room for a stray towel. Amia had yet to move from her place or remove her hand from her eyes. "We're all decent in here you know," the closest Delinquent informed.

Amia shrugged, "Good job, I'm proud of you." She kept her hands on her eyes.

Mia couldn't convince the Delinquent to hand over my first towel, so she wandered around the showers in search of another. This left the room in awkward silence, with the occasional crash from Mia's efforts.

"You didn't have anything going on this arvo, did you?" Dylan asked.

"Would it really matter now?" I countered, grimacing when Mia caused another crash somewhere.

"No. But depending on what it is, I might feel a bit bad for it," Dylan replied.

"Heaven forbid," I stated as another crash erupted somewhere. "Mia, what're you doing?"

Moments later, Mia plopped up the shower holding a white towel. I sighed in relief, "Thanks, Mia." I reached for it, but she was just out of my reach. I leant out further, but she's pulled the towel away from me.

The Delinquents shared a laugh as Mia continued to pull the towel beyond my fingertips. I growled as I retracted entirely. "Seriously?"

Mia offered a head tilt, still making a lazy effort to look behind the curtain at me. I made another reach for the towel, but she was paying attention and hugged it to herself as she took a step back.

Dylan continued to smile, reaching a hand out and resting it on her shoulder. "I like this chick. She's funny."

Mia stuck her tongue out at him but returned her attention to me. "Mia, why do you care? You're eleven!" She shrugged in response, tilting her head, Dylan mimicking it beside her.

I felt my teeth grind, looking to Amia for a.s.sistance, but she had yet to even remove her hands. I locked eyes on Mia, "Give me the towel or I'll never read to you again," I threatened.

Mia had a genuine look of shock, while the Delinquents gave a mockingly stunned expression.

"You monster, newbie," Dylan responded.

"Oh, the humanity," another added.

Begrudgingly, Mia walked forwards and held the towel out to me. I thanked her and went to grab it, but at the last moment, she pulled away again, taking me off guard when I tried to reach for it. When I caught the towel, I thought I had remained covered, but Mia's cheeks started to redden, and once I had the towel in my possession she childishly covered her eyes.

I cursed as I disappeared back in the shower, the Delinquents all bursting out into laughter.