Chapter 3
454 Words
Gym class should be illegal before noon. That was the thought looping through my head as I stood on the faded hardwood floor, tugging at the hem of my too-short gym shorts while Coach Reynolds barked instructions that no one was listening to. Volleyball day. Of course it was. The one day where coordination, dignity, and gravity all teamed up against me. Everything was going fine- by gym standards-until it wasn’t.
I went up for the ball, misjudged it completely, and came down wrong. My foot slid out from under me as I flailed in a way that could only be described as deeply unfortunate. I hit the floor with a loud smack, knocking the air out of my lungs. And to make it worse, the ball bounced directly off my face before rolling away. There was a split second of silence. Then laughter. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I scrambled upright, waving off Coach Reynolds’ concerned shout. “I’m fine,” I said quickly, even though my pride was very much not. I caught Kayla’s eye across the court. She had her hands pressed over her mouth, eyes wide, trying not to laugh. When she finally mouthed I’m so sorry, I groaned.
The rest of the day, thankfully, was uneventful in the most blessed way possible. No Amber sightings. No Cory encounters beyond a distant glimpse in the hallway that I pretended not to notice. Classes blurred together in a haze of notes, bells, and the quiet relief of being ignored. By the time the final bell rang, my shoulders finally relaxed.
Kayla and I walked home together, backpacks slung low, the afternoon air cool against my skin. We talked about nothing important- her mom’s obsession with true crime podcasts, my driving test looming like a storm cloud, the fact that gym class should come with emotional hazard pay. “Just don’t relive that fall in your dreams tonight,” Kayla teased as we slowed near my house. “I’m filing a formal complaint with gravity,” I said. “It’s been rude lately.” She laughed, stopping in front of my driveway while her house sat just two doors down. “You’ll do great tonight,” she added, more serious now. “And Saturday.” “I hope so,” I said, exhaling. “If I fail, I might actually disappear.” “You won’t,” she said firmly. “Text me when you’re done.” “Always.”
We hugged quickly before parting ways, and I headed inside, the familiar comfort of home settling over me. Upstairs, I changed, checked the time for the tenth time, and tried to calm the nervous energy buzzing through me.
Final driving lesson tonight.
- Writer
