FIVE
Three weeks later…
This is the worst relationship I have ever been in, and it’s not even that kind of relationship.
If Jesse Windmeier makes me do suicides one more time, I’m going to launch myself at him and see how well he can breathe when his oxygen supply’s been cut off.
What was I thinking, giving an asshole like Windy that much power over me?
I drag myself with something a little faster than a drunken swagger towards the other end of the field where a shiny orange pylon is, where I’ll have to crouch down, touch the field, and then attempt to sprint my a*s back to another orange pylon, farther away than my original starting place.
I’m panting hard enough that my breath feels like it’s rattling in my throat, and my lungs burn enough that I want to cough them up. My legs are
