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Spooky Season
Coach's eyes bulged like a fish, pupils boring holes through my head. I looked up from my quad stretch, attempting to smile. Nerves turned it into a grimace.
“Callie,” he said softly.
“Yes, Coach?” I said meekly. The other girls shot me sympathetic glances.
He stood rod-staight like a military general, arms folded behind his back. “What's in a week?”
“Our meet.”
“What meet?”
“A track meet...”
“And what do athletes do before meets?”
“Carb load?”
“Train, Callie. Athletes train,” he said decisively. “And our top varsity runner decided to skip practice Friday. What sort of message does that send, Parker? What example does it set for the underclassmen that look up to her?” He looked down his long nose at me, a slight sn
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