Page 41 of A Mastery of Monsters

I’m dying. And I don’t think that’s hyperbole.

I’m confident that my heart is two seconds away from exploding as Margot blows her whistle for the millionth time.

I run across the cricket field toward the monster truck–sized tire laid on the ground and shove at it with my shoulder, grunting and wheezing as I push it up, my arms shaking, my thighs screaming, and then flip it over.

Again, and again, and again until I’m at Margot’s feet.

What a way to spend a Friday afternoon.

I collapse onto the ground, my eyes closed and stars dancing in my vision.

Water splashes in my face as Margot pours the liquid onto me for not even the first time this session.

“Get up,” she says.

I ignore her and stay where I am. I want to tell her to fuck off, but I can’t even get the words out. And this is the woman who had the gall to tell me not to overdo it.

“You haven’t been running every morning,” Margot says, and I can picture her putting her hands on her hips even with my eyes closed. “I can tell.”

How does she expect me to do all this? I’m supposed to run a 5k every morning, go to class, make time to study and perform well, and train for what’s literally already a training session?

This competition has eclipsed my life. I haven’t even had a chance to get my braids redone.

The sweat isn’t helping. My edges are frizzy and mussed.

“You don’t have anything to say?” Margot asks. “No defense? Are you just that fucking lazy?”

I bare my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, balling my hands into fists.

They’re the perfect words, really. Those are the words that make me force myself to stand and face her.

I walk away from Margot, nearly stumbling to the ground.

I go to the other side of the field and drop down into a push-up and then jump to my feet and lift my hands in the air.

I do ten burpees, my throat so dry that my wheezing has become near asthmatic coughing.

I stumble my way back to the tire and go to push it.

I want to. Instead, I topple onto it and lie there.

Tears rush to my eyes, and I duck my head, letting the sweat stream down.

“I gave you a routine!” Margot’s on a roll now. “You’re the one who couldn’t be bothered to follow it!”

“Stop.” I don’t look up, but know it’s Virgil. I get to my feet, swaying. I can barely see him through my swimming vision, but maybe he’s coming toward me? Very, very fast. When his arms grasp mine, I realize that I’ve fallen into him. “Are you trying to train her or kill her?”

He picks me up with little effort, squeezing my arms and placing me back on my feet. He keeps his hands in place, as if afraid I’ll fall again. I keep my head down because I physically can’t lift it, and it hits his chest.

“If she’d done what I told her to, she would be fine. Take one look at her and you know she didn’t!”

Enough.

My voice is dry and rough, but I still speak. “Just because I haven’t suddenly lost fifty pounds doesn’t mean I’m not doing anything. If that’s what you wanted, you should have said so, and I would have told you I’m not doing that shit again.”

There’s a beat of silence where I keep panting, letting my breaths be noisy if that’s what they need to be.

I’m thinking of everything I put into my mouth in the last month. Knowing that if I tracked it or skipped some of it, then I would probably look like everyone wants me to. I’ve done it before.

But I don’t want to do it again. I want to stop. I want to be done.

I’m so tired of other people deciding what I do with my body.

“I never told you to lose weight,” Margot says, her voice quiet for once.

“Bullshit,” I spit, stumbling back from Virgil so I can look at her.

“Has anyone ever called you lazy? Has anyone ever questioned if you’re healthy, or if you did the workouts you were supposed to?

You can tell I didn’t do shit by looking at me?

Are you serious?! If I had come to this training twenty pounds lighter, you wouldn’t have had anything to say, and here’s the kicker: if I had lost weight, I would be able to do even less than I can now. ”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” she says. “I meant the way you’re performing. You’re out of breath—this circuit shouldn’t be taking that much out of you. That’s all.”

“It’s hard ! Of course I’m out of breath!” I sit on the ground, bringing my knees up and pressing my face into them. She doesn’t get it.

“She’s been running,” Virgil says. I jerk my head toward him.

He looks like he’s two seconds away from tearing Margot’s throat out.

“I’ve literally seen her doing it because you gave her a route that goes past here.

You don’t even run that much. She’s already done it this morning, and you expect her to not be tired for training?

And that’s not even getting into the bullshit she just called you out on. ”

Margot takes a long breath before sitting on the grass, splaying her legs out. “I’m sorry.”

I say, “Wow, you can apologize?”

“I don’t care what you look like, and even if I did, it doesn’t matter, so I’m sorry.

I didn’t think about what I sounded like, or the shit I was saying, or how you felt about it.

” She scrubs a hand across her face. “I just—I want you to be prepared for this. They’re going to run you harder, push you more, judge you harsher than anyone else because you’re an outsider.

You don’t realize that they could destroy you and not even blink. ”

“Doesn’t matter if you destroy her first.” Virgil is the only one not sitting. He’s still staring at Margot, eyes tight, muscles clenched.

“I know! I get it,” Margot says. “I’m sorry.”

I nod and stare at my lap. I don’t want to be having this conversation.

There’s a magic invisibility in thinness.

Nobody saw me. No one noticed when I skipped meals or tracked everything from oil in a pan to chewing gum.

No one cared when I worked out for hours a day or avoided restaurants.

And if they did realize what I was doing, they complimented me.

Fatness is the opposite. No matter what I do, people have comments, and opinions, and assumptions.

And somehow, I’m still the closest to real happiness that I’ve ever been.

But sometimes, times like this, I fantasize about going back to it. Buying a scale to replace the one I threw out, taking a new set of “before” pictures, and starting all over again. Not because it’s what I want. But because it’s easier that way.

People loved me more when I hated myself.

“I’m sorry,” Margot says again. I don’t know if she wants me to forgive her or if she isn’t sure I heard.

She can keep saying it if she wants. I want her to feel bad about it.

I want her to keep feeling guilty for as long as I feel like shit.

“I lost a lot of myself in this process. I forced myself to fit into the mold because I wanted to save my brother. I hated it. And… you don’t need to copy me.

That was my mistake.” She pauses, but I don’t say anything.

“No more running. Use the weekend to rest up for Monday’s training.

We’ll start on combat after the first cut.

” She stands and begins the process of collecting her equipment and loading it into her parked car.

“You okay?” Virgil asks.

I shrug.

He sits on the ground across from me, his legs crossed. Likely getting grass stains on his khakis. “Want to hear something messed up?”

“Sure,” I say, glad for the distraction.

“After what my parents did, they wanted to kill me. I was four at the time.”

“What the fuck?”

He laughs without mirth. “Yeah… Monsters get stronger with each generation, remember? I guess they worried I’d become too powerful and want revenge or whatever.”

They were going to murder a child. I don’t understand how Virgil can say stuff like this and still want to belong to the society. Then again, I guess he doesn’t have much choice. Where else could he go?

He picks at the blades of grass without pulling them out.

Just letting them slip through his fingers.

“Henry stopped them. Adam backed him. And so, Cyrus backed him. And I was saved. Then every year, Masters would filter into McIntosh Castle to see how I was progressing. They didn’t care if I could hear what they said.

That I was lazy. Sloppy. Unkempt and unmotivated.

That the wrong decision had been made.” Virgil peeks at me through his lashes.

“None of them knew me enough to assess my work ethic. And you know that I have impeccable style.”

I snort.

Virgil smiles for a moment before it dims. “They just looked at me, a fat kid, and judged.”

I swallow, and my mouth is so dry that I almost choke from it.

Back on move-in day, Corey talked about me and Virgil being similar, and I brushed it off. It’s harder to do that now. I can’t help but admit that we understand each other. Even more, I… feel something about it. I’m pissed that people would do that to him. When he was a fucking little kid.

Virgil says, “Even as a monster, nothing is more dehumanizing than having someone decide they know everything about you because of what you look like. I’m glad you said something to Margot.”

I press my teeth against my trembling bottom lip, sawing back and forth. “How bad was it for her?”

“Doesn’t excuse what she said.”

“I know. But tell me.”

“Not great. She was part of a particularly competitive year. Every test, she’d show up with new bruises.

It was obvious that people were messing with her outside of them.

Students complained about Henry training her, since nominators aren’t supposed to.

Your trainer is meant to be a more junior Master.

Everyone Henry could get for her didn’t want to rock the boat with their other society connections, so they said no.

Henry tried to pay for private lessons, except everywhere in the city was full suddenly, likely because society members collaborated to take the spots. And so she had to do it by herself.”

“They organized against her.”

“Yeah. But she did it. She made it through. It’s not like that changed everything for everyone, but some people took it as a positive. That, and the fact that others had interfered to make it more difficult for her came to light, and a lot of students didn’t like that.”

“Ah, because of the illusion of equality?”

“I know it’s hard to understand, but—”

“No, it’s simple. Not everyone actually wants the society to be equal, but they like to maintain the moral high ground.”

Virgil’s brow wrinkles. “Is Caden giving you a hard time?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He stares, and I stare back. “Don’t look at me like that. There’s nothing you can do. Trust me, even a tiny growl at one of those precious babies, and I’m sure they’d have you locked up.” From the way Virgil’s eyes drift away, I know I’m right. “Doesn’t it bother y—”

“Of course it does. But you need to have a certain insulation to be able to fight back. Especially in my position and given who my parents were. We’re on shaky ground here. When you become a Bachelor, it’ll be different. Even that status can afford us so much more.”

It makes me think of all the times I told myself that once I reached my goal weight, life would be better.

When really, the only thing that changed was that other people were nicer to me.

But I never felt better. If anything, it was worse.

“Yeah.” I get to my feet. “I’m gonna talk to Margot. I’ll be back.”

Virgil’s eyes follow me as I make my way to the SUV, where she’s struggling to lift the tire into the truck. I come up beside her and grip the other end, and together we get it inside.

“Thanks,” Margot says.

“I get why you’re worried. I can even appreciate you caring that much. But if you ever say that shit to me again, I’m done with you. I’d rather train alone.”

She, of all people, knows how hard that is to do.

“I won’t.” I nod and am turning to leave when she speaks again.

“You’re good, August. I know I don’t say that enough or maybe even at all.

But you’re not a long shot. You have talent.

You have the potential to win. Even Henry thinks so.

” There’s something almost off about the way she says that last sentence. The tone and the twist of her mouth.

I’m still thinking about it once she’s gone, while I walk back to my dorm, exhausted, sweaty, and a little bit triumphant.