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He vaulted out of the barrel. It was really unfair how good he looked doing it. I averted my eyes as he grabbed a towel.

I tugged my shirt back over my head and collected my shoes. I started to hand him the towel when he said, “You can bring it back tomorrow.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You did good today, Soccer Star.”

“Stop calling me that,” I said.

He just chuckled. If he knew I played soccer, he must’ve knownI wasn’t that great at it. That Deja was the actual soccer star. I wondered if that’s why he found it so funny. That hit a nerve.

Was one session enough? Could my friends take over the job of training me now?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Four weeks. Just four weeks. “See you tomorrow.”

Chapter

twelve

MY EYES FLEW OPEN, ANDeven that small movement made me groan with pain. I rolled onto my side and groaned again. Every muscle in my body was sore. My bones felt sore too. Like my muscles were clinging on to them for dear life. I reached for my phone ever so slowly and sent a text.

Need a recovery day. Can’t move.

Theo texted back a few minutes later:The best thing for sore muscles is to work them out.

I literally can’t move.

You’re still in bed? Of course you can’t move. Get them warmed up and meet me in thirty minutes at the school. We’ll lay off weights today.

Fine. P.S. You’re mean.

I rolled out of bed, literally, and landed on my hands and knees on the floor. From there I crawled to the bathroom, barely able to pull myself onto the toilet. After washing my hands, I crawled down the hall.

“What are you doing?” Grandma asked from where she sat at the kitchen table.

“I’m warming up my muscles.”

“Since when do you wake up early both weekend mornings?” Dad asked. I hadn’t noticed him from floor height, but he sat next to Grandma.

“Since I enlisted the punisher as my trainer,” I mumbled.

“What?” Dad asked.

“Nothing.” I crawled to a chair and used its rungs to heave myself to standing. Then I walked to the cupboard where we kept the medicine and found a bottle of ibuprofen.

“Are you training for something?” Mom asked. She was at the table as well. It was a regular family reunion.

“Yes,” I said. If I lived through today, Iwouldneed a good excuse for all the working out I’d be doing. And she just gave me that excuse. “One of those mini triathlons.”

“Really?” she asked.

“When? Where?” Dad added.

“I’ll send you the website later.” As in, when I found one. There had to be someone hosting one of those things somewhere. “It will answer all your questions.”

“Is Jensen competing with you?” Grandma asked. “He’d do wonderful at something like that.”

I sucked in some air. “No, Grandma. Jensen and I broke up. Remember?” And he’s not good ateverything,I wanted to add but kept it to myself. His current track record proved that thought wrong anyway.