“I’ve been looking forward to this,” Logan whispers. My skin crawls with disgust.

“Touching me?” I retort, glaring at him. “I bet you have.”

He scowls and runs both hands up the sides of his red hair to make spikes. He tries to look tough, but it makes him look like a little kid. 

You can do this. He’s just a stupid boy. 

Krake blows the whistle. Logan moves in quickly.

“Let’s get some excitement in here,” Mateo calls out. “This half of the room—you all shout for Logan. This half, Aiden.”

“C’mon, Logan!” His half is a lot louder than those who are supposed to cheer for me. They pound on the thick mats with their fists and feet, and it sounds like drums. “Go Aiden!” Well, at least one person is on my side. Thanks, Marcus. 

I kick at Logan’s shin and attempt to trip him, but he hooks my leg. Then he lunges in and sweeps my standing leg, knocking me hard on the ground. The wind blows out of me, and Logan jumps on top for a pin. A sharp pain sears through my ribs. I can’t breathe, and my eyes fill with hot tears.

Logan gets the pin, and his half of the room screams, along with a handful of applause by wrestlers who were supposed to root for me. 

Logan doesn’t offer to help me up. “That’s my boy,” Coach Krake says. “Notice how Aiden couldn’t breathe. Logan snuck in a punch to the ribs. Now, if a ref sees that, you’ll get penalized. But if you make sure the ref is opposite of you, that’s a great strategy. Curl your fingers into a tight fist.” Krake lifts his right arm to demonstrate. He scoops me off the floor with his left arm. “Then on the way down, you slam your knuckles into your opponent’s ribs. If he can’t breathe, he won’t get out of the pin. Like this.” Without warning, he shoves me back on the floor and jumps on top of me. He doesn’t need to use his fist. His two-hundred plus pounds of thick muscle crush me. I’m suffocating! Then he hits me in the ribs anyway, and a sharp pain rushes through my midsection all the way to my ears. 

He whispers in my ear. “Don’t worry. We will destroy whatever disease is inside of you. One throw at a time. I’ll make you all better. You have my promise.” His hot breath smells like tobacco, and my stomach churns. Tears blur my vision. Please don’t cry! Not in front of everyone! When he stands, he doesn’t offer to help me. “Time for endurance training,” Krake shouts. “Everyone line up at the edge of the room. Suicides and burpees!” He cackles and wipes spit from his mouth. 

I can’t move. Mateo approaches, his eyes black with anguish, and offers me his hand. 

“Leave him,” Krake commands, his stare cold and unfeeling. “He can get up by himself.”

“Coach, he looks—”

“I said leave him,” Krake interrupts Mateo. “In fact, for every second Aiden stays on the ground, that’s five extra minutes of endurance training for everyone else. Starting now.”

I roll to the side and put my hands on the floor. My ribs roar.

“One. Two. Three.” Coach counts methodically, an icy smile hovering on his face.

It takes everything I have left, but I rise to my feet.

“Quicker than I thought,” Krake says, and it almost sounds like a compliment. “Line up.”

There’s no way I can run, let alone do a burpee. I waddle to the edge of the room, placing a hand on my side. My breath comes up shallow, and each inhale makes me wince in pain.

Coach blows his whistle, and the rest of the team sprints ahead, completing the first suicide. I force my legs to jog, but I can’t move my arms. The team begins the first round of burpees. I jump down with them, but the moment I place my hands on the floor, I yelp. 

“What is it?” Krake asks, rolling his eyes.

“Coach, my side hurts. Bad.” Hot tears break free and roll down my face.

He stomps over to me, grabs my singlet and pulls it down off my shoulder. His eyebrows lift in mild surprise. I gasp at the sight of my body, embarrassed that everyone can see.

My ribs are black and blue.

“Should have known you’d be as fragile as a Barbie doll,” Krake mutters. “Probably cracked them. Well, looks like you’ll be on the sidelines ‘til they heal. Mateo—get the school nurse.” 

“Yes, Coach,” he says and runs out of the wrestling room. “You two, help him up and get him off the mat. Everyone else—line back up. We still have training to do.”

Marcus and a kid named Jeff sit me on the edge of the room on a rolled up mat. “You okay?” Marcus asks. His thick lips form a straight line. There’s an obvious concern in his eyes.

“I dunno,” I say. “It hurts a lot.”

“That was pretty shitty what they did. First Logan, then Coach both slamming and hitting you like that,” Marcus says.

“Hey,” Jeff snaps. “That’s our training. Get tough or get out.” Jeff snarls at both of us. I’ve never really hung out with him as a friend, but we were assigned a class project in eighth grade. He seemed nice then, but his tone shocks me now.

“I wanna train, too,” Marcus tells him. “But we don’t have to hurt each other like this.”

“Coach is just making us strong,” Jeff defends. He pulls at his singlet, which fits tightly against creamy white skin. Pale-blue eyes look me up and down, and they’re filled with disgust. “When we have our wrestling matches, you think anyone else is gonna be all nice and gentle? He’s tough so that we’re prepared. He’s won more wrestling titles than any other coach in our region.”

Marcus rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. I’d laugh if it wouldn’t hurt. Somehow Marcus isn’t brainwashed like everyone else. At least not yet. 

The school nurse runs into the wrestling room with Mateo, and she shakes her head disapprovingly. “I’ve told the principal a hundred times that this shi—stuff is bad for our students.” She sighs. “Let me take a look, honey.” She gets on one knee to examine my ribs. She’s an attractive lady with thick, dark hair. Lots of boys like to joke about pretending to be sick so she can examine them. A few kids in the back snicker at something as she touches me. “Oh, boy. I recommend getting you to a First Care and getting an X-ray. Okay?”

I hate doctor’s offices, but it’s better than this hell hole. 

“I’ll call your parents.”

“It’s just my mom,” I tell her. “She’ll be getting off work soon.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you.” She stands, puts her hands on her hips, and glares at Krake. “Hey, Coach. We’re going to First Care. Again. You know, Coach, hurting students isn’t worth a cheap, plastic trophy.” 

He tilts his head back and laughs. 

“Oh, Nurse Bradford. Why don’t you take Aiden to a real medical professional? You know, someone who has a little more experience than passing out Tylenol to cramping girls,” Coach retorts.

Blood rushes to Nurse Bradford’s cheeks. “Oh, I’d have some words for you, if there weren’t so many kids around. Guess I’ll just share them with the principal.”

“You do that.” Coach lifts up a hand and waves. “Bye-bye.”

“I need one of the other students to help,” she tells him. “To help lift him up and take him there.”

He smirks. “Fine. Mateo. Go with them.”

“Yes, Coach.”

Mateo puts an arm around me and helps me out of the wrestling room. 

So much for earning everyone’s respect.