Friday afternoon, I'm leaning against the gym wall along with all the other sophomores and freshmen who are waiting anxiously for the upperclassmen to finish their side conversations and focus. Will is beside me, swallowing roughly as he tries to calm his breathing.

I stare right ahead, my eyes boring into the wall directly across from us. Hanging under the words State Championships and Ice Hockey are several years, including last's. I remember everything from that championship season, every practice and game and conditioning session, all the extra work and blood and sweat I poured into those few months. I remember everything it took to earn that championship.

Rolling my shoulders back, I continue breathing evenly, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

All summer, I woke up early to run. I dragged everyone out with me before dawn to run for miles on end, then went on to sprint later on in the day. I hit the gym every damn day, did pushups until my upper body was so sore I couldn't lift my hands to eye level. I did enough curl-ups to harden my abdomen into a wall of muscle.

I did it all in preparation for today.

Breaking the freshman record last year which was set by Hunter three years prior isn't enough. I want to set the sophomore record this year. I want to do better than anyone ever has on this damn test.

The seniors and very few juniors are gathered together on the floor a few yards away, talking and stretching in a rough circle. They just finished their test a few minutes ago. While the other underclassmen were in the locker room getting ready and shitting their pants, I was out here, watching coach administer the test and call people out when they were done. I used so much energy encouraging the others that I almost thought I wouldn't have enough left to run it myself. Then my adrenalin kicked in, and now I feel like I could tear down a break wall with my bare hands.

Will didn't think I should watch. He thought it would make me nervous, mess up my mentality. It didn't.

I clench and unclench my fists, still staring at that same year, imagining this year's number right along beside it.

From the corner of my eye, I see Hunter push himself off the gym floor. He brings his hands above his head in a slow stretch, and the movement draws the hem of his shirt partway up his stomach. His abs gleam with sweat, and while on another day the sight may have distracted me, now I couldn't care less.

He strides forward until he's standing directly in front of me, in the center of the line. A hush falls over the gym.

Hunter did exceptionally well in the test, not that I was surprised. He works just as hard as I do, and he's a natural; if hockey weren't his everything, he'd be a runner. He made it all the way to number twenty-two, just one away from reaching the all-time record that he set last year. He probably would have pushed past that point if his arms didn't start cramping, causing him to collapse in the middle of a pushup.

I swipe my tongue along my lips, blinking once. My gaze flickers from the reminder of last year's state championship to Hunter's stern face. Coach Mac, Tig, and Coach Wilson were present for the first session of the test, but then they had to go attend a meeting for the winter sports coaches, leaving Hunter and the other seniors in charge.

He claps his hands together, and the sound echoes in the silent gym. "I'm sure you all know how this works." He doesn't sound out of breath, and yet I know he must be exhausted. He pushed himself hard. "I'll explain anyway."

Gesturing with his hand in a sweeping motion, he says, "This is our annual run test. The object is to go for as long as you can, pushing yourself as hard as you can go. If you let up, you're done."

Another break of silence. I wouldn't be surprised if someone fainted.

Hunter crosses his arms over his chest. "You have to sprint from this side of the basketball court to the other. Sprint, not run, not jog. Sprint. As fast as you can in that moment. It's about effort, not quality. Once you get there, drop to the ground and do fifteen push ups. Not modified push-ups, real ones." I don't know what they called them before I joined the team, but I do know no one has dared to say girl push-ups with me around. Not when I can do just as many pushups as the rest of them, if not more. "When you finish those, you're back up and sprinting down to this side again, drop, and do fifteen sit-ups. One length of the court plus one set of exercises is one round. If you don't finish the exercises, you don't get to add that round to your tally."

I bounce on the balls of my feet.

A pair of steel grey eyes latch onto my face. Hunter watches me for a half second, then says to everyone, "Do your best. We'll know if you have more left to give."

In other words, he's going to be pissed if I don't blow them all away.

If you don't beat everyone else back to the line, you and I are running more sprints after practice.

Clenching my jaw, I stare right on back to him, remembering the words he told me yesterday. Not only would he make me run, but he'd be mocking me the whole time.

Hunter steps back and walks over to the side of the court by the wall. Caleb, who is sitting on the ground by the speaker with his shirt hanging around his neck and is holding a clipboard to record our results, presses play. Immediately, one of the songs I suggested for the playlist begins thrumming through the speaker. My heart rate spikes, and my body tenses; I have to get there first. Everyone will all out sprint the first two or three, trying to show off to the seniors, then as they start to fatigue they'll let up more and more until they cave.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

My focus zeroes in on the far line.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

From the corner of my eye, I see Hunter lift a whistle to his lips.

Breathe in-

He blows, and I explode off the line and run like hell to the far side of the gym. I beat everyone else by at least a foot, then drop into push-up position and start pumping out my fifteen.

The first time I took this test was when I was a rising freshman over the summer. Sometime during the week after school got out, I convinced Hunter and the guys to run it with me so I could have something to go off of while working out over the summer.

It was a massacre. Even Will, scrawny, weak little Will, held out longer than me. All because I could barely do fifteen pushups at once, let alone several sets of them.

I was mortified. The guys didn't even bother to tease me, and they tease me for everything. Hunter was so disappointed he could barely look at me.

That night, I didn't go to bed until I had completed one thousand pushups. It took me almost three hours, but I did it that night, and the following, and every day for the rest of the month.

In July, when we tried again, I beat Will but fell short to the others.

Every day, I ran for hours, completed more pushups than I could count, and did enough sit ups to transform my stomach into a hard slab of muscle.

If I wanted to be the first girl on the team for almost seven years, I'd need to kick every doubter's ass in this test.

And I did.

The first set of push-ups pass quickly, and I'm off the line and sprinting down in what feels like seconds. I'm the first finished, and as a result the first to start the sit ups, although Tristan and another kid aren't far behind. Will, from what I can tell, is in fourth, though I know he'll last longer. Our will is stronger than the rest.

The sit ups fly by as well, as does the sprint, although I do start to feel a bit fatigued. I push through it, knowing that my body can handle this, can excel at this, but that my mentality will be my biggest weakness.

Gritting my teeth, I start on my second round of pushups. Already, my muscles are burning, and even though I know I can do this set easy, I feel a piece of me start to ease, to feel content, to think I'm in the lead, I can let up a little.

Hunter sees it too. "Pick it up, Alison."

Several vile words sit on the top of my tongue, but I swallow them down and speed up on the push-ups. The number ticks down one by one, and when I'm done I explode off the ground and haul ass to the end.

Tristan gets there a half second sooner, and if he weren't breathless, he'd be gloating.

My stomach drops as my ass hits the floor. Shit.  Maybe if I fly through the sit ups he won't care.

"That's one, Alison." Hunter calls out sourly, and this time a frustrated hiss slides from my lips. I barrel through the remaining sit-ups like a beast and sprint like hell for the other side. I beat the others by several seconds, and so I take the time to shove my middle finger at Hunter before starting on my next round of pushups.

He's not amused by the action, although the other upperclassmen all seem to get a kick out of it.

By now, my adrenaline is pumping, and the burn in my muscles is barely noticeable. The pain will kick in later, and it'll be a bitch and a half to deal with, but for now I keep my pace breakneck and steady. The seconds blur together, the monotonous movements and dull ache in my muscles dragging at my legs and arms. I want to be done, but I can't. At round seven, several freshmen and two sophomores have already thrown in the towel, and my body wants to join them more than anything.

But the idea of giving in, of letting Will and that bastard Tristan hold out longer than me, of the torment I'll face at the hands and mouths of my friends, and of the look on Hunter's face knowing I gave up pushes me to move faster.

The sophomore record is thirteen. I got to eleven last year and nearly collapsed afterward, but I know that I can reach it today. I've trained so goddamn hard ever since.

My upper body burns, every muscle screaming with pain and fatigue. Gasping for air, I drop to the ground as I finish my last push-up, then explode off the ground and fly across the gym. The sprint is a welcome reprieve from the god-awful push ups— even though I'm capable of doing hundreds, I still fucking hate them— just as the sit ups present a chance for me to catch my breath.

Soon, each exercise acts as a rest period for the previous, and the only thing that keeps me going through the motions is waiting for the end of this step and the beginning of the next. The guys drop off one by one, slowing to a stop after their last sprint, collapsing to the ground once they finish their final round of push ups or sit ups. They remain motionless for so long, trying to catch their breath, and fuck it feels good to last longer than them, but I still want this shit test to be over.

Will, Ty and Caleb seem to think I enjoy this test, that I look forward to it and all other forms of physical punishment, but that's not true. I relish in doing better, in beating my teammates, because there's a competitive itch inside me that's never sated, but it's more than that. I want to prove myself, want to improve myself. I want to show everyone who doubts me that they're wrong, and I want to come out victorious every damn time.

Tristan is still up, trailing behind me by just a few seconds, as are Will and six other guys, all of whom are returning varsity or junior varsity players. The freshmen are all out, and the record I set last year remains.

My legs shake as I finish my sit ups and am sprinting again. Sweat drips down my forehead, off the tip of my nose, nearly burning my eyes. I use the hem of my shirt to wipe it up, but the beads of perspiration are replaced within moments. Everyone else has taken their shirts off already, even Will, who rarely ever goes shirtless among the team, and when sweat slips into my eyes for the third time as I complete my push ups, I decide to join them.

Tossing the sopping wet fabric to the side, I turn and sprint down the gym, ignoring Caleb's playful cat-calls; he's the only one to dare make any comments. The action steals precious seconds from my lead, and I reach the other line after Tristan, who has frustratingly remained at the front of the group the whole damn time.

"That's two, Alison." Hunter calls sharply, and if I could actually breathe I'd probably shout at him.

Instead, I drop to the ground and bust out the sit ups. I finish before Tristan and jump at the chance to get ahead again and regain my rightful spot in first place, but my hand lands in the shallow puddle of sweat that's built up from several rounds of sit ups, and it slips right out from under me. I land hard on the ground and slam my chin against the floor with a smack.

"Ali!" Tyler shouts. "You good?"

Tears flood my eyes as metallic blood fills my mouth. I ignore them and keep going. Tristan beats me to the other side again and this time gets a head start on pushups.

For a moment, Hunter doesn't speak up, and I wonder if he'll take pity on me. Unfortunately, he doesn't. "Three."

Rage fills my body; it pumps through my blood and sears my muscles into cooperation. Swallowing down the mouthful of coppery saliva that's building on my tongue, I power through the push ups, wishing more than anything we were outside, and I could spit. I'm still behind Tristan, and Hunter adds another sprint to my tally as a result, but I've closed the gap. And as Tristan stars to feel the fatigue during the sit ups, I finish the set first and beat him in the sprint.

I've lost track of what round I'm on. Thankfully, Hunter speaks for the first time other than to yell at me, and he calls it out as I'm doing my pushups. "You guys are at twelve."

Almost there.

Tristan, Will, and two other guys- both sophomores- are left. I'll have to last longer than fourteen to break the record.

Digging deep, I keep my pace steady and strong as I finish the push ups, the sprint, the sit ups and another sprint. Everything in my body hurts, and my mouth is so dry that there's not even enough salvia to swallow anymore. I want a damn break, but I won't get one until I win.

Another one drops out, and on round fourteen, Will follows suit. Even as a goalie, his fitness is towards the higher end of the team spectrum, and reaching his own personal best today is more than enough for him.

If only I could say the same.

My joints ache. I feel each muscle tearing, and I know I'll feel like fucking shit tomorrow, too full of lactic acid to move correctly. Even rolling out won't help, and the thought alone makes my steps falter until I find my footing and push through.

Tristan is still going. How the fuck can a rookie get this far? I've lost track of how many times I've taken this test, and each one was just as difficult as the last. He makes it look effortless.

Well, not effortless. Even he looks like shit.

And while I know I shouldn't be wasting time or concentration on him, I can't help but notice him start to lag. He pauses an extra second between each sit up, and takes a moment longer getting off the ground before the sprint.

Hunter notices it too. We're the only two left; how could he not? "Tristan, you're slowing down." It's a warning, and one of many that he's issued to someone other than me. Still, it feels great to hear.

Ha.

And to give him some credit, Tristan does try to go faster. He lengthens his strides on the next sprint, tries to hurry through the push ups. But his form suffers, and he's breathing so heavy I can barely hear myself breathe.

I take a second to collect myself, to try and force back the black lining the edges of my vision, and Tristan does too. Only, when I get up, he stays on the ground, heaving for air.

I reach the opposite line, and as I complete the sit ups, I set the new sophomore record at sixteen.

Taking a deep breath, I feel the cold ground press against my sweaty back.

"Don't tell me you're done already, Alison." Hunter taunts lowly, the words sparking a wave of frustration and annoyance.

I'm the only one still going. I went further then all the other underclassmen and more than half the upperclassmen. I could stop right now, and no one could tease me for it.

No one except Hunter, of course. Physically, I can keep going, and that bastard knows it. 

I roll onto my stomach, my body automatically settling into position. "Not even close." I shoot off the line and sprint like hell to the other side, driven by my emotions and the loud cheers of my teammates behind me. I don't notice until I'm midway through my pushups, but Caleb has joined me on this side of the gym. I'm pumping push-ups out as fast as I can, and he joins me, calling out words of encouragement as he does.

A rush of gratitude flows through my body, momentarily soothing my aches and pains. He's already taken this test, already excelled by reaching round eighteen, and yet here he is, sticking with me and working right alongside me.

Caleb would make a good captain. He's already the best friend.

I sprint to the other side. I don't know if I'm more tired of the sprints or the exercises, or of the dull blue color of the gym's floor.

Tyler is waiting for me, smacking the floor excitedly as I complete my sit ups. Plenty of the guys are cheering me on, but I focus on the cheers of my close friends, and tell myself to go for one more, to hit nineteen, then go stop, to take a breather. To relish in the fact that I made history at this school and gloat to Tristan that I beat him.

The thought alone sends an extra spike of energy my way.

I don't know how Hunter knows I plan to stop, but he knows. And he disagrees.

He crouches beside me as I do my push ups. I steadfastly ignore him, keeping my eyes pinned to the speck of paint on the ground. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve-

"Keep going." He urged quietly. "Don't be complacent. You have more in you."

"Screw... you-" I gasp, nearing the end of my set. "I've. Given... everything."

"Not everything." Hunter practically snaps. "There's always more to give." Realizing that I'm not listening, that he's not getting through to me, he gets lower, tries to look me in the eye. The angle is too harsh to look at him directly, but I can still kinda see him. "Come on, Alison. From here on out it's all mental. Give it one more. Do better."

Everything hurts. I can barely breathe.

A dry, choked sob falls from my lips. "Fuck." I don't say anything else, but I know he's right. I can't stop, not knowing I can do another. Will I live after? No. But I'll still do it.

So I get up. I run another. The gym seems to shake with the roars of my teammates, who are all on their feet, stomping and clapping and shouting my name. The air vibrates with it, and as Hunter sprints along beside me, my adrenaline picks up. I still feel like shit, still feel like I could collapse, but I find the energy to beat Hunter to the other line, to finish my push ups.

"Twenty." He gasps out, slightly winded from the sprint. Everyone else might have dropped out, but I know he's running hard against me, and if I don't beat him to the line, he's adding another sprint. "Do another."

And I do.

"Get to twenty two." He urges. "Tie with me."

I do. The cheers are deafening.

"You're not going to stop, are you? Not when you could actually beat me for once? Another."

Never. I do another.

"Set the record." My ears are ringing. There's too much noise in this damn gym. I can't hear the music anymore, only my blood roaring in my veins and Hunter's supposedly encouraging taunts. "Don't give up. Not now."

Not ever.

Each sit up has my abdominal muscles cramping, and I can't breathe, not even a little bit. So I go faster, sweat coating my whole body, heat radiating off my skin, and when I finish the set, I'm off the ground and sprinting again. Hunter isn't doing the exercises, so when we race, he's going with somewhat of a break, a chance to breathe at least. I'm not.

He beats me. "That's five."

An enraged scream tears through my clenched teeth. My words are in time with my push ups: "I... hate... you... fucking... bastard."

He laughs. "I may be a bastard, but I'm still better than you."

I want to tell him that I beat him in our little practice earlier today, that I beat him twice this week alone. I want to tell him I've surpassed him and two of the records he set, that as a sophomore I'm just as talented a player he is, if not more.

But that doesn't mean shit, because he just beat me in a sprint.

I finish my push ups to the sound of his perfectly placed taunts. I know exactly what he's doing, and it works. I fly across the gym, ignoring my pain and exhaustion, and beat him to the other side.

"You're at twenty five." Hunter says quietly as I do the sit ups. I barely hear him at first, shocked by the fact he's not insulting me. "You've done well, Alison."

He says it as if he expects me to be done, and I should be. I am.

I do my last sit up.

Rolling onto my stomach, pressing my head to the cold floor, I take a breathe. Everyone is cheering loudly behind me, congratulating me on kicking ass.

I lift my head, push myself off the ground.

One last time, I sprint across the gym and do my last set of push ups. It's not the one thousand I did that very first night, but it's still extra work, it's still bettering myself.

When I finish, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

Tyler reaches me first. He offers me his hand, and though I want to lay on that floor forever, I still grab it and let him haul me up.

Caleb wraps his arms around me and lifts me into the air. I'm too tired to do anything other than laugh weakly as he shouts my name over and over again.

Finally setting me down, Caleb steps back, making room for everyone else to come forward and give me a high five, a pat on the back, a fist bump. Will hugs me tightly, grinning as wide as possible.

I notice Tristan hanging back, his expression furious. If anything, the sight just makes the moment sweeter.

Hunter steps forward, a pleased expression on his face. I know he has things he wants to say to me, including proud congratulations, but those will come later, when we're alone. Instead, he says: "You owe me some sprints."

I flinch, my body filling with dread as I look at the court that suddenly seems impossibly long. "Now?"

He nods once.

I know better than to argue. Lifting my feet off the ground is a chore in itself, and as I reach the line, I decide that maybe next time I won't let Hunter piss me off so much.

"Aw come on, man. She just kicked ass, give her a break." Tyler interjects. 

Hunter won't budge, I know that without looking back.

"Stay out of it, Ty." I speak before he can keep going. "I need to do this."

I wait for Hunter to count me off and am shocked when he lines up beside me.

He doesn't look at me as he says, "It's not a race this time. If you choose to lose to me, that's your decision."

My eyes narrow into slits. Lose, my ass.

Even though my body hurts, and I'm exhausted, and these sprints don't mean shit, I make sure to give one hundred and ten percent.

I beat Hunter on four of the five sprints, and before he can even open his goddamn mouth, I run an extra for the one I lost.

After, I drop to the ground, heaving for air. Caleb sits down beside me, and as he does I reach up and grab the shirt that still hangs around his neck and use it to wipe my face.

"Ew!" He laughs. "That's disgusting."

I don't bother replying. The cool floor feels good against my skin, but with a gym full of hormonal boys, I know it's time to put my shirt back on. "Can you get me... my shirt?" My breathing is still out of whack, but with each second that passes it starts to regulate.

Caleb chuckles. He doesn't joke about finishing my strip tease like he always does. He just scans the ground for my shirt, and when he spots it he says, "Tris, can you toss me her shirt?"

I don't hear a reply, but seconds later a damp, sweaty ball of fabric slams into my face.

"What the fuck?!" I fly into a sitting position, my core muscles screaming in pain at the too-fast motion, but I'm too pissed off to care. "Was that really fucking necessary?!"

Tristan shoots me a glare then turns away, but I'm not done. Anger still sparks in my veins, and it's a welcome reprieve from exhaustion.

I stumble to my feet and stalk over to him. Caleb scrambles up beside me, and Will is already heading my way, but I ignore them. "You're a dick, you know that? And weak. Dropping out at fifteen?" I laugh, even though I have no reason to. I couldn't reach fifteen for almost two damn years.

My words must hit a nerve, because he spins around to face me. "Screw you. You've got the senior captain up your ass, making you do well, of course you're going to win."

My steps falter. "What?" Will's breath catches in his throat, and Caleb swears aloud. Tyler steps forward now, his whole body exhibiting anxiety. Even Hunter, who was probably going to stay out of this dispute, knowing I damn well deserved to gloat, makes his way over. "You must be fucking joking."

Tristan stands tall and firm, eyes blazing. He must realize how stupid he sounds.

I laugh. The sound is bitter and frustrated. "I won because I reached twenty six rounds of the hardest run test anyone in this gym has ever taken. I beat you by ten. If you don't even have the courtesy to acknowledge that I did fan-fucking-tastic, then fuck you. Hunter didn't give me that win. He didn't assist me in any way." Well, that's not one hundred percent true. He made me angry, and anger makes my spiteful ass better, but that's not the point. "The only thing he did was make me run extra even after kicking your ass, which you probably should've joined in, seeing as you definitely need it-"

"Shut the hell up!" He snaps, stepping toward me dangerously.

I can't help but laugh again. "Oh, you gonna hit me pretty boy? Bring it on. Bet you've never even been in a fight." My hands curl into fists.

"I'm not gonna hit you." He seems surprised I even asked. "You're a girl."

My humor falls away completely.

Caleb groans at my side, and Tyler sighs. "Well now you've done it."

"Doesn't matter that I'm a fucking girl!" I shout, lunging forward. "I'll still kick your ass into next Tuesday-"

Hunter steps in front of me and stares me down with steely grey eyes. "Enough, Alison." I bristle angrily. "You've made a lot of progress here today. Don't undo it by turning into a petty, immature child."

"But he-" I tighten my fists and glare up at Hunter. I have half a mind to punch him instead, but we have a deal: I treat him like any other captain when we're with the team.

Which means no punching.

Growling under my breath, I stalk forward, bumping his side with my shoulder, and grab my shirt from where it rests on the ground. Pulling the fabric over my head, I grimace as it clings disgustingly to my body, still wet with sweat. My whole body thrums with a furious energy, and god I want nothing more than to drag Tristan outside and beat his good for nothing ass.

But Hunter would have my head, and I'd probably end up with another suspension.

Breathing deeply through my nose, I turn around and stalk back over to Tristan. Tyler jumps forward, ready to intercept me, but Hunter grabs him by the shoulder and holds him back. "Wait."

Standing toe to toe with Tristan, who is looking down at me with a mixture of anger, discomfort, and nerves, I grit out, "I may be a girl, but I'm no less than anyone else here. Everything I've got, everything I've ever achieved, is because of me." Each word seems to break down Tristan's anger until only worry and shame remain, but I don't stop. "Taking the run test today? Beating you, and everyone else, including my own fucking captain and trainer? That was the hardest thing I've ever done. And I damn well earned it."

Spinning back around, I stalk across the space to the door to the girl's locker room. I let the door slam shut behind me as I collapse onto the nearest bench and shut my eyes.

AN: HEY YALL!! this is one of my favorite chapters and one I've had written for a long long time.

I hope you're enjoying the story! pls share your thoughts and vote :)

soph