Storm, Meet Raine

Play Ball

HER.

The blaring of that stupid whistle around his stupid neck had all of us groaning out our complaints. Five times, he had blew into the Godforsaken thing. The glare I sent toward him could've melted off his face how angry I was.

But nevertheless, I took off with Vinny beside me, as usual, to do these five miles. We couldn't even make it ten steps before he blew his whistle again and called us out, well, Carson and I. With two of his fingers bending in a 'come here' motion, my anger dissipated and turned into slight fear. We were so getting our asses kicked for leaving early yesterday.

My eyes flickered over to my partner in the crime we committed, and the palm of his hand coaxed the air as if he was saying calm down. Sighing, I turned away from my running partner and walked toward a pissed off Coach Gardner. Carson's shoulder brushed mine when we stopped next to each other in front of the coach, and I glanced at him, not realizing he was already sneaking a peek at me.

Thank God the stadium was clear at the moment, since we were two hours early. That'll save some embarrassment for however it is he wants to deal with us. His lips were pursed as his eyes shifted back and forth between Carson and I. "Storm," he called out the worst one out of our little duo first, and I was glad because I'm pretty sure he's a better liar than I am. "Why in the hell did you think it would be okay to skip the rest of practice?"

"To be frank, we weren't doing shit, so I didn't see the problem." Oh, okay, so we weren't going down the lying route. See, some things are just better handled by someone else.

     "I don't care if we were having a damn powwow," he gritted out, "I'm responsible for you and I'll be damned if I lose my job because you wandered off and got hurt. Same for you," he turned to look at me, causing me to flinch behind the seriousness in his tone.

     When neither of us responded, he nodded his head. "Ten miles—"

     "—Huh?"

     "—What?" Both of our shocked reactions happened at the same time, but all Coach did was shrug his shoulders.

     We have a game in less than two hours and he wants us both to run double the amount of the team. "Before your teammates finish their fifth," He finished off, making my jaw drop to the floor. He's got to be kidding right? That's—

     "That's fucking impossible," Carson gapes, and I frown as Coach's gaze never wavers. He's actually serious about this. Carson's words are true; only a freaking machine would be able to do that, especially now, considering that they've probably finished a mile already since we've been talking.

     "Maybe for you, Storm, with your non-running ass, but I'm sure Carter over here could pull through," he winks at me while my face screwed up. Is this some kind of joke? "You're wasting time at this point," he looks at his watch before smirking at Carson, "You don't finish, you get Hell."

     He knew Carson wasn't going to finish. However, as soon as the word Hell left his mouth I took off like never before, running for my life. Carson whipped around, surprised that I was actually going to try and do this, but his reaction was the last thing I saw because I was sprinting to try and get ahead of the other guys.

     The ones that loved me, Hunter, Vincent, and Isaiah, slowed down so that I could actually have a chance to do this. I managed to smile as my legs went into overdrive on the pretty green grass of the field. Lap after freaking lap, I went, passing Carson after my eighth one because he was getting tired, not a long distance runner by a long shot. When I got to mile 9, it had been about five minutes over an hour, and Hunter and Isaiah were trying their best to keep me from having to hell it out.