No one offers me a hand. No one even looks my way, except to register my defeat before turning their attention to the next bout. I drag myself to my feet, my vision still a little blurry, my pride in tatters around my second hand sneakers. The heat in my neck has spread, consuming my face, burning every part of me with shame. I want to disappear, to melt into the floor, to be anywhere but here.
Seeing the coach moving past, I step toward him quickly, voice small but desperate, I’m not above begging if it means I won’t be tossed around by that jerk. “Coach, can I — can I switch partners please?”
He doesn’t even look up from his clipboard as he scribbles something on it. “No switching. Get to it.”
I grit my teeth, heart hammering as I peer over my shoulder, Mason smiles wider than a Chesh
