Unmasking the Nightmare

Chapter Two: A Peculiar New Year's Resolution

"Nicole Fletcher, if you can't do jumping jacks without flailing your noodle arms like a drowning duck, I'm going to make you run solo suicides."

PE class. The most self-conscious, awkward, and pointless class ever. It's not like doing twenty jumping jacks was going to magically make us ripped and fit. Every Tuesday and Thursday, we would waste forty-five minutes of nothing except jumping jacks, some silly yoga stretches, and stupid running to top it all off. And then there were the fit girls that sprinted even though we had been told to jog and snickered when you came in dead last, even though it wasn't a race.

I was used to their taunts since I came in last most of the time. Endurance was not my strong point. Now that I'm thinking about it, nothing that has to do with fitness was my strong point.

If I have to do another set of twenty, I'm going to puke.

My stomach was already queasy from the flying in Chaos Rising. Sure, it was only a simulation, but if my mind believed it was real, so did the rest of my body. Nonetheless, I attempted to perfect my form, straightening my back and stiffening my arms. I felt even more awkward then I had before, but I must having been doing them correctly because Mr. Bailey's narrowed eyes darted towards another struggling girl, barking out threats.

I didn't understand why Mr. Bailey was expecting every single one of us to share the same level of fitness. He was comparing nerdy girls who spent hours reading books, watching Netflix, and eating junk food to the gym rats who pumped dumbbells for hours. You can probably guess which group I belonged in.

Not only that, but I doubted he could run as many suicides as he made us run. He had to be reaching his midlife crisis, his love handles spilling out of his tight, lime-green shorts that stopped mid-thigh. He probably couldn't even walk a quarter mile without having a heart attack. His glory days of being a track star were long behind him and now the only specialty he had was chanting out dreadful drills and barking threats at anyone who didn't have flawless form.

I shifted my disgusted gaze away from my PE teacher and rested them on Sabina, envy boiling through me as I watched her smile, like this was the highlight of her day. She bounced enthusiastically beside me, her form practically flawless. I needed to find out where she got all that energy from. Sugar definitely wasn't the answer because I was the sugar addict and I still didn't have enough energy.

"Ready to tell me about what happened in Chaos Rising? Did you pass the mission? Are they gonna select you for Gifting Day?" Sabina didn't pause between her sentences, all of her words blending together.

"Not the time—right now. T—talk to you l—later about it." I puffed. I was annoyed she was doing so much better than me. She rarely worked out and her strength could be compared to a toothpick.

"You're really out of shape. If you do get selected, they're going to have the challenge of their lives trying to whip you into shape." Sabina giggled, her jumps making her curls flap over her eyes.

"Thanks S—sab. Makes me fe—feel really great about mys—myself!"

Not that I could feel any more embarrassed after Mr. Bailey compared my arms to noodles and my form to a drowning duck.

I was just itching to get home and brace myself for the day tomorrow and research information about Chaos Rising and Gifting Day. And PE class was the only thing standing between me and that freedom.

C'mon bell! Ring! I chanted to myself. Ring, ring, ring!

"It's everyone's favorite part of class." Mr. Bailey clapped his hands together as if in celebration at the torture that he was about in inflict us with. "Five suicides, and I better not see anyone jogging this time." I didn't have to look up to know that he was addressing me. "Sprinting only, or I'll make you run solo."