Hateful by Eden Beck

Chapter Twenty

Heath makesme and Beck practice our baton pass over and over again. I’ve learned the correct angle to hold my arm, how much speed to put on right before I get to him, what to look for in his gait that indicates he’s ready to grab it. Beck, for his part, begrudgingly works with me until it looks almost second nature for him to snatch it out of my hands.

“One more time,” Heath yells over the field. “You were point two seconds slower.”

“Because I’m tired!” I shout back. “We should call it here.”

Beck doesn’t say anything, which means he agrees with me—for once. He scowls down at the baton in his hands.

I never thought I’d see The Brotherhood take something so seriously. Least of all, a relay race.

I guess it’s all about saving face.

Jasper stands nearby. “Yeah, Heath,” he shouts to him. “They’ve been doing it perfectly every time.”

“One more run-through, then,” Heath insists. “All of us. The race is tomorrow. I don’t want to lose to the girls.”

He jogs over for a second, his chest heaving with breath. He’s taking this more serious than the rest of us—and that’s saying a lot.

Jasper, Beck, and I all share an exasperated glance, and for once, we all seem to be on the same wavelength. For one small second, we’re united. It’s over quickly. All three of us break apart to stand at our starting points, the moment immediately forgotten.

I get into position. Heath grabs the baton from Beck, then hands it to Jasper, who takes his place at the beginning of the track.

“GO!” Heath yells.

I wait, counting under my breath. I know it takes almost fourteen seconds for Jasper to reach Heath. I watch them do the handoff perfectly, then wait for the right moment to start running myself. Heath runs up beside me and slips the baton into my right hand.

I launch myself away, sprinting as well as my tired legs can allow around the curve of the track. Ahead of me, Beck begins to run and I hold out my arm, angle it just right, and slap it into his left hand, making sure I’m in the correct boundary for being able to pass the baton.

Beck shoots off like a bullet to our makeshift finish line. The whole thing takes a little under a minute. I suck in deep breaths to try and steady my heart rate as I walk my way back to Heath, as the others are doing.

“Okay. I think we’ve got it,” Heath says triumphantly. “Our time hovers around forty-nine to fifty-three seconds, and from what I’ve heard, the girls tend to fluctuate even more than that, almost to a full minute.”

I nod while he talks. Am I actually … excited? I sort of feel like part of a team. I’ve never been into sports before—and that mess that was me playing Lacrosse last fall doesn’t count—but running has become second nature to me. And I seem to be good at it.

“Are our team outfits here yet?” Beck asks.

I blink. “Team outfits?”

Jasper’s face twitches. “Beck ordered us uniforms, I guess.”

Heath folds his arms over his chest. “Yeah. I’ll bring them to the locker room the morning of the race.”

My heart quickens. I don’t want to be in the locker room alone with these three.

“Can’t I just have mine now? I can change into it before I come here.”

“No,” Beck says quickly. “You’ll get yours when we all do. Practice is done.” He turns and goes straight for the locker rooms.

Jasper gives me a shrug that looks somewhat apologetic before following. Heath avoids my gaze altogether. I walk off in the opposite direction, toward the school. Tomorrow these seats will be filled with students. And I’ll be representing our school. Students from Bleakwood and the girls’ school will be watching.

I hope I do well.

But somehow, I have a gnawing suspicion that even if I do … something about tomorrow is not going to go according to plan. Because when it comes down to it, does it ever?

* * *

It’s early.I sit up and look around my darkened dorm room. Rafael still sleeps soundly in his bed, tiny snores emanating from his parted lips. It’s so early my alarm won’t be going off for another hour.

But I’m wide awake.

I disentangle my legs from my blankets and sheets. My stomach clenches uncomfortably as I go about getting ready. I pull on my underwear, wiggle into my sports bra and bindings, tug on my socks, and throw on the first clothes I touch. I know I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep, so why bother?

Am I nervous? Of course I’m nervous. The last time I tried to compete in a sport, I had to deal with someone hopped up on Adderall right before and got forcefully kissed directly afterward. There’s no telling what will happen this time.

I lift my shirt and nervously adjust my bindings. I’ve been forced to use the public showers a few times when Rafael was hogging our bathroom, and no one has commented on me and my bandage-wrapped chest. Maybe they just assume I like it … or it’s some sort of residual injury from last year. I hope The Brotherhood is of a similar mind.

I shakily open the door and slip out as quietly as I can.

With nowhere to really go, I just wander the empty hallways for a while, but that becomes tedious. I decide to just go out to the locker rooms to wait.

I’m full of a nervous energy that I’m unused to.

Some workers are already out at the track setting things up; concession stands, a banner, things like that. I give them a wide berth. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I’m too nervous to hold any sort of conversation.

Eventually I let myself into the locker room and sit down on a bench, folding my arms. I’m a full two hours early.

I while away the time by dozing off with my back against the lockers punctuated by periods of uncontrollable shaking to the point that I’m actually relieved when the door opens and Beck glides in with a smug look.

“You’re here early,” he says flatly.

“Couldn’t sleep.” I shift on the bench. My butt has completely fallen asleep. “What about you? You’re early, too.”

He shrugs and walks away from me. This is the first time we’ve been alone together in a long time, and I’m amazed he hasn’t tried to smack me on the back of the head or something, but I guess that would hurt our chances of winning the race. I’m sure I’ll have it coming for me when this is all behind us.

“They’re going to let us warm up about half an hour before the race,” Beck says matter-of-factly, his back still turned to me. “Will that be enough time for you?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll put on the uniforms after we warm up.”

“Do the girls have uniforms?”

“I don’t know.”

He falls silent after that, which I take as my cue to leave him alone. We spend the next few minutes awkwardly avoiding each other’s gaze in complete silence until Jasper bursts through the door.

“Alex,” he gasps before he glances over and sees Beck. His entire countenance changes in the blink of an eye. “Beck. Hey. Uh, Heath has the uniforms.” Jasper shoots me a look with an expression I can’t interpret. Fear? Nervousness? I don’t know.

We only have to wait in awkward silence for a little while longer before Heath comes in with the aforementioned uniforms. He, too, has a face I can’t read.

“Okay—here we are.” He sets a big cardboard box down on one of the benches. “Care to have a look?”

Beck immediately goes over to the box and throws it open; he pulls out what looks like a full track suit, with shorts and a matching jacket. My stomach drops. I don’t want to wear shorts. Are they really going to make me?

“Yours, Jasper.” Beck tosses the outfit to Jasper, who sets it aside. He digs through again, pulls out his own, shoves Heath’s into his arms, and then pulls out the last one. “Here.”

He tosses a pair of sweatpants at me. I snatch them gratefully out of the air.

“They didn’t have shorts in your size,” Beck tells me. “I had to go into girl’s sizes just to get you those pants.”

Oh, the irony. I glance over at Jasper, who is now carefully avoiding my gaze. “How do you know my size?” I ask Beck curiously.

Beck shrugs. “It was easy to guess. You’re so scrawny, you’re practically a girl anyway.”

Jasper turns his back to me completely. I wonder what I’d see on his face if he hadn’t.

One of the professors comes to get us from the locker room to start our warm-ups. We do as Heath instructs us—just some jogging in place, some stretching, a little walking—the stupid sort of thing gym professors make students do at the start of class. While we’re humoring him, I scan the team for the girls’ school.

I spot Headmistress Robin, instead.

She zeros in on me from her place near the track as soon as I lay eyes on her. She doesn’t wave. She just locks gazes with me, staring me down.

I’m the first to look away. I can’t think about her right now. I have to focus on the race.

The rest of that can come later.

With our warmups done, I follow Jasper, Beck, and Heath back to the locker rooms and do my best to huddle out of their sight as I change into the uniform. Thankfully, Beck got me a full zip-up jacket. It’s too big for me—exactly how I like them. The pants feel weird, but that’s not too much of a problem. I’m just used to the same shapeless uniform pants and borrowed jeans over the last year. I’m not used to fabric hugging my thighs. I tie the drawstring around my waist, forcing myself not to shift uncomfortably in them so as to draw any more unwanted attention to me.

“Now, let’s remember our form,” Heath tells us as we walk out onto the track. The seats are filled with people and the sight of them causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach. I haven’t eaten anything, but I still feel like I might throw up. “Alex, Beck, have you two gotten your baton pass down?”

“Of course,” I reply.

Beck just nods. His eyes are unfocused, staring.

Somewhere in the distance, an announcer is introducing us, telling the crowd who we are and what we’re doing—as if everyone didn’t already know. I barely listen. My pants keep shifting on my waist, so I adjust them again. This whole event isn’t going to take us very long. I have no idea why anyone even showed up.

Everything about Bleakwood, about both these schools, sometimes just seems so hyped up for nothing. We’re all going to be out of here in a year.

Well, those of us lucky enough to make it to our second year.

“Alex!” Heath hisses at me. I look over at him, startled out of my momentary daydream. “Go get in position!” He puts a hand between my shoulder blades and gently pushes me.

I realize Beck’s already walked off to his starting position so I jog to catch up and get to my own. The girls’ team lines up on their lane, right beside ours, but more near the center. They have an advantage. I roll my shoulders back as I get to my starting point. I can do this. I’ve certainly practiced enough.

“Your pants are untied,” the girl next to my position says, pointing.

I frown down at them and tie them again. I must be more nervous than I thought.

“Thanks.”

She nods curtly and looks away. I follow her lead, falling silent. I focus on Jasper, our first runner, up at the beginning of the track. He shifts his weight nervously. His eyes find mine and he frowns with that same unreadable expression that’s dominated his features over the last couple days.

“On your marks!” yells the announcer.

Jasper gets into his starting stance. He has his baton. I feel my legs tense up and I have to fight to relax the muscles in them.

“Get set!”

I should’ve eaten something. No, wait—this is probably better. This way I won’t puke all over everything.

“GO!” It’s accompanied by the sound of a gunshot from a starting gun. The girl next to Jasper takes off like a shot, pulling ahead of him as easily as if he’d started off walking. She gets to the second runner a full two seconds before Jasper gets to Heath.

I tug nervously on the drawstring in my waistband, tightening it anxiously, then crouch just a bit in anticipation. Heath makes up a bit of Jasper’s lost ground. I guess he was right about the girls front-loading their runners. They’re slowing down a bit now, giving us a chance to catch up.

I’m mildly surprised they’re doing so well. With the three towering members of The Brotherhood here, I’m surprised any other girls can keep up. I guess I’m not the only one who’s been practicing for just such an occasion.

The girls’ third-leg runner starts to run as her teammate approaches, and I wait just a bit before I do the same. Heath comes barreling toward me and I start running, reaching my right hand back as Heath reaches forward.

The baton slams into my hand.

I take off.

The girls’ team runner is ahead of me, but she’s losing momentum around the curve. I’ve practiced this particular curve a million times, so I shoot past her, catching only a glimpse of her startled face as I rocket my way by. The waistband of my pants feels loose again, but I ignore it, even as they start to slip to my hips.

Fuck.

Girl’s pants? Maybe I don’t have the hips I thought I did.

Beck is ahead of me, grinning as I run up. He starts running before I get to him. I remember the angle I need. The girls’ third-leg runner is way behind. We can win this, I know we can. I can do this.

I just have to focus a little bit harder.

Everything but the track, the baton, and Beck in front of me disappears for one glorious moment. Beck’s left hand pushes out behind him. He glances over his shoulder with a smirk. We’ve perfected this. He knows he’s got this.

But then his hand closes around the baton a split second too soon. He jerks it out of my hand, pulling me with it before I have the chance to let go.

I go tumbling forward, almost smashing my face into the track, but I manage to twist at the last moment. The jacket protects my arms and back as I roll sideways. I hear laughter from the stands, but I don’t care. So I tripped? So what?

I’m used to being tripped. I’m used to this.

I slowly get to my feet, and I realize I’m wrong. This isn’t what I’m used to.

This is different.

I realize it the moment I look down at the source of the sudden cool breeze between my thighs.

My pants are gone. They didn’t just loosen; the waistband completely fell apart and peeled back from my waist and hips, leaving me exposed.

Completely exposed.

Immediately, I grab the material of my pants and tug them up to cover me. Beside me, my girls’ school counterpart stares, open-mouthed. Did she see? Did anyone see? I’m not wearing panties—It’d be a dead giveaway to bring a bunch of those to a boys’ school—but I am wearing tighty-whities.

Like a complete and utter fucking idiot, I know.

Now if anyone saw …

The laughter continues, and my head begins to reel. I thought I was going to be sick before.

Now … now …

I’m too terrified, too confused, too bewildered to be sick right away. I feel like I’m trapped between a nightmare and something worse. Something real.

I’m sure someone saw. Someone, or literally everyone, now knows that I’m a girl, that I’m a fraud, that I’ve been disguised this whole time. I’m about to be expelled. It’s going to go on my record.

No college will admit me now.

Not once all this is said and done.

I double over and, despite my best efforts, heave the near non-existent contents of my stomach onto the track. The laughter grows louder. The girl runner springs out of the way with a loud shriek.

All of last night’s dinner, gone. I keep heaving until there’s nothing left but bile. It gets on my shoes so I kick them off, strip off my jacket, tie the sleeves around my waist to hold up my pants, and run back toward the school.

“Alex!” yells Jasper’s voice. I don’t stop. I keep running. I feel tears streaming down my face and my breath comes in short gasps. I sprint at full speed in socked feet all the way back to the school, where I burst into the empty hallway and collapse against the wall.

I’m fucked.

I’m completely and utterly fucked.