None of the Above(29)

“No, Darren,” I said calmly, despite my racing heart.

I pulled my arm away, and went down the hall to my locker to find out what Darren was trying to prevent me from seeing. When I got there I just stared at it, as if it was some other person’s locker and not mine. It was so ugly. They’d chosen an awful dark green color, and half of the paint was dripping down because they’d done such a crappy job. Vinnie McNab, the guy who had the locker next to mine, was going to be pissed because they’d gotten some of the spray paint on his door, too.



STaY aWaY, TRaNNY FaGGOT



The first thing that popped into my head was that I wished they’d chosen a more girly color. I’m a girl I’m a girl I’m a girl.

The bell rang, and people started rushing to class. Staring at my locker, some people laughed. Other people looked disgusted. Either way, it was like I had this bubble around me that no one was willing to enter. Hell, I didn’t want to be in it, either. I looked down to see if the people from my homeroom were still looking out at me, and they were. Faith hung half out of the doorway. She was waving me to come back in, and I almost went, but then I saw Vee standing one classroom down, her face stony. I wrenched my head away, back to the words on my locker. Was it me or did the S look like Sam’s handwriting? The thought turned my heart into a block of ice.

Stay away.

“What’s going on here?” Ms. Thomason peeked her head out at the commotion. I watched her face as she looked at my locker, her mouth twisting, and knew that there was no way I could go back to homeroom. But where could I run? Where could I possibly go to hide from what I was?

As I stumbled toward the back entrance, I passed the gym. I saw the USD seal on the floor and looked up at the SPARTAN PRIDE sign my teammates and I always hit on our way out to the track. Instinct took over.

I walked to the back of the gym, where the varsity teams had a weight room. It had that comforting Febrezed-over smell that I associated with track. I went to one of the leg machines and lifted until it hurt. Coach Auerbach liked to say that pain was our friend, and I’d always bought it. Physical pain meant that you were bending your body to the will of your mind, that you were stronger than muscle or bone or cartilage.

I kept going until I could tell myself that the tears in my eyes were from pain, not from shame and panic and dread of the future.

The door to the weight room opened.

“Krissy, that you?” Coach Auerbach walked in. It was strange seeing her in jeans. She must’ve just gotten to school. “You’re getting an early start on training.”

I pretended to wipe sweat off my face. “Gotta defend my indoor title.”

Coach Auerbach’s face fell. She sighed, and put her hand on my arm. “Krissy, why don’t you come into my office for a minute? We need to talk.”

“At least two of the other teams in our division have already filed complaints with the athletic board, accusing me of cheating and demanding an investigation,” she told me. “I know that probably nothing will come out of it, but I’m sorry to say that we can’t allow you to run until we get things straightened out.

“I know it sucks, Krissy. But I’m sure it’ll blow over real soon.”

I tried to hold things together, but I could feel pieces of myself crumbling, turning to dust. Vee and Sam. Now the team, and probably my scholarship, too. What would be left?

“It’s not fair. I’m a girl.” My voice came out in a whisper.

“Sounds like it’s more complicated than that,” she said sadly.

“You know that running is the only thing that . . .” I couldn’t go any further.

“Krissy, no one is more heartbroken than I am about this.” I believed her. Coach Auerbach had been my wingman on half a dozen interviews with recruiters, ridden at the front of the bus on who-knows-how-many road trips. She leaned over to touch my hand. At her kindness, tears started streaming down my face.

Coach Auerbach handed me a tissue and rubbed my shoulder. “It’s okay, Krissy. It might just be a temporary thing. After all, the IAAF ended up reinstating Caster Semenya after she passed a medical eval.”

“How long did it take for them to clear her?” I asked.

Coach Auerbach didn’t look me in the eye. “It’s not really the same situation, Krissy. She was competing in the world championships, and was shooting for the Olympics.”

“How long?” I demanded.

Finally she sighed, and answered. “About a year.”

Someone knocked on the door, and a girl’s voice said, “Hey, Coach, I was wondering—”

I looked up, and through my tears I saw Rashonda Glenn, one of the juniors, who would probably be captain next year. She still had her hand in knocking position but her mouth gaped open like a fish’s. I turned away from the shock in her dark-brown eyes.

“Never mind, Coach. I’ll come back later.” She always was one of our best sprinters.

Pain was my friend, my ass.

Coach Auerbach let me pull myself together in her office. Got me some hot tea and a cool washcloth. I lay down on her couch while she taught a phys ed class, but eventually all the yelling from the gym started bothering me and I snuck out.

I didn’t want to go back to my locker to get my lunch, and I had a twenty that I always kept in my sneakers for when I was jogging, so I picked up the spare coat I left in my gym stall and went to the 7-Eleven.