Warm up had already started by the time he got there. Everyone was jogging obediently in their never-ending lines, all looking much more professional than Tim, with their clean and well-fitting Nike tops, Adidas sometimes, and well-rounded fencing shoes. They all turned to look at him in unison. His few friends gave him a look of sympathy, but everyone else just stared at him blankly.
Tim awkwardly stepped into line after putting down his fencing bag and putting on his sneakers. They jogged for about ten more loops and then they stopped and started doing high-knees instead. Tim, not being extremely agile, felt ridiculous as they rushed in circles around the coach. He stared at Tim and looked angry. Tim quaked and tried to raise his knees higher.
"Kick higher," the coach said, most likely at Tim.
After three more rounds of cardio, Tim and the rest stopped and formed a perfect circle. A girl stepped into the middle and began stretching. Everyone copied her, which was hard, because she was so flexible. She was a professional ballet dancer, and she enjoyed showing off her extreme flexibility to everyone else. Mirabelle and Madeline whispered among themselves, but the coach ignored them and instead told everyone to get out their weapons to start footwork.
Everyone began, marching back and forth until they started panting, then they kept marching, legs squeezing up and aching with every step. It infuriated Tim how everyone else didn't seem as bothered as he did.
Sorry folks, that's all! I meant to make a good regular sized chapter but I have a scholarship program, three essays, one speech with visual aids, and 12 exams coming up. I'm so sorry!
YOU ARE READING
But I stayed
General FictionTim adored fencing. He worked so hard all day, every day, just to pull in a few more points. He wanted to even make it to the Olympics. But things kept happening that began growing his doubt. And besides, the people he knew--they were angels of inju...
