Twisted (Editing)

Chapter 3 (Edited)

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For the rest of the day, none of my classes were as bad as that first math class. And Liz was right, lunch was wonderful, albeit crowded with the entire upper class⁠⁠—juniors and seniors⁠⁠—eating at one time. Liz let me eat with her, and along the way introduced me to a curly-headed girl with tan skin who said, "my name is Yasmine, call me Yazzy." Not too long later, she declared that she, "without a doubt, hated the town, but would miss the shrimp scampi."

I felt like I was in good hands.

Right after lunch, I had gym class, a horrible combination. When I came in, I noticed some people slipping behind a curtain that split the gym into two. Looking around, I saw that it wasn't boys on one side and girls on the other. Maybe it was by athletic ability? But I saw people in their soccer and basketball hoodies on this side and slipping into that one. It could be split by last name. I'd have to ask Liz when I saw her next.

"Hello, everybody, welcome back from what I hope was an active and healthy summer." The gym teacher was a woman cut out of marble. "It's the beginning of the year. And you know what we do at the beginning of every year?" Several kids groaned. "None of that, none of that. Get on the line, we're doing the pacer."

My lunch⁠⁠—a hearty helping of delicate fish, rice, and strawberry cake⁠⁠—gurgled in my stomach. Oh, this was going to be bad. We lined up, awaiting instructions. Soon, the words began to play. the fitness gram pacer test is a multistage...

The beep came too soon. We were off. The first ten rounds, twenty rounds, are easy. People dropped a little more after that. Sweat dribbled down my forehead. I wish I'd come bare-faced today. The tinted moisturizer was going to run into my collar.

We got to level five, level six. Level seven. This was a perfectly good place to stop, and I intended to, but when the gym teacher saw me slow near the end, she stepped in front of me. "I saw that, Walker. Go ahead and keep going."

"But I missed the beep," I wheezed.

"Go until you're tired. No cheating in this class."

By the time I came around off of my next lap, I saw her standing right in front of me, still. Damn.

"Okay, push it, push it, push!" she screamed. "Who's going to win? Let's see!"

Level eight. Level nine. Level ten. There were four of us. Two girls. Two guys. One girl dropped⁠⁠ in a literal sense⁠⁠—she slid onto the floor and then stayed there. Level eleven. My legs were putty. I wanted to melt into the floor. Level twelve. The first lap of level thirteen.

Then I tripped and didn't get back up. The gym teacher patted my back. "You're done, Walker. Good job." She stood up and lifted up her hands. "Congratulations, Adams. What's your secret?"

He wiped his sweaty, crimson face and smiled. "Captain of the cross-country team."

"And Imani, what's your secret as the heir to the throne?"

I blinked at her. "Just a good healthy lifestyle," I croaked.

She laughed. "Maybe we'll have to move you up."

"Maybe."

I lay there for a few more minutes, eyes closed and body soaking into the cold hardwood. When I was satisfied and able to move a little, I peeled myself off and went to grab my things. I wiped myself off and changed gingerly back into my uniform, careful to leave the shirt untucked and the skirt lose around the waist.

The bell rang and everyone filed out for the next class. I found Liz lingering by my locker. She looked me up and down, before reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a pack of wipes. "The pacer test?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"God, did you run the whole thing?"

I said nothing and wiped my face bare. My mind wandered as I looked across the faces in the hall. Some of them had just been in my gym glass. Some of them had been in the gym class that I wasn't permitted to go into.

"Hey, Liz." She hummed. "How are the gym classes split? By last name?"

"Oh no...we just play different sports."

"So what are we in?"

"Team sports."

"And what are they in?"

"Gymnastics."

"So many people are gymnasts? Really?" I dropped the used wipe in a trash can and reached into my backpack pocket for face cream. "Are you sure?"

"I don't know. They do like...rich people stuff. They go skiing in the winter and hiking in the spring. Like, field trips out of state to go hiking. I honestly couldn't tell you. Sorry."

"No, I was just wondering, don't worry about it." I shook my head. There was something strange about the whole thing, but I could even place down what the feeling was. It's because we're in the middle of nowhere, that's why. The trees and the stillness would do that to anybody. I repeated that thought to myself to make it sink in.

It never really did.

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I walked home in the high sun. My parents' cars were parked in the driveway. I don't think they'd started work yet. Every single time we moved, there was paperwork to do and licenses to file and it could be some weeks before they started to work. They got paid though, so I don't think they minded at all.

I opened the kitchen door and slipped off my shoes. Their voices were soft and hushed from the room next door. And they sounded serious. I would've just crept up to my room without bothering them if I hadn't heard Mom say, "We have to move again."

I leaned against the fridge with my head cocked forward. "We can't. We promised to make this work," Dad said.

"But they're here. They're⁠⁠—"

"We don't know that."

"And the consequences, if they find out, will be devastating."

"It's one year. Right?"

The silence drew on for a long while. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on their ends. "Right," Mom said.

I walked back to the door, opened it, and let it slap close. "Hello. Mom? Dad?" My heart raced in my chest. Were they in danger of losing their jobs? Were they in trouble with the law? With the people of the town even?

"Welcome back," Mom said. She took me in her arms and kissed my forehead. "You're so warm," she said.

"The sunshine."

"Mmm, I have to get out there and take a walk. Winter is on its way, you know. But right⁠⁠—your day. What happened?"

"Nothing. I met two girls. They seem nice. I'm going to go over to their house to study with them tomorrow."

"Make sure you turn on your location when you go." She smiled at me and somehow it filled me with terror. Turning on my location was normal, of course. But right after they were talking about "the people" who knew we were here? It sent chills down my spine.

"Do your homework," she said. "I'll call you down for dinner." I headed up the stairs, heard the phone ring, and listened to Mom launch into a giggly conversation with a friend from an old location. Just a few minutes ago, the same voice was dry and grave, and full of fear. So what was real? Her laughter or her concern?