Chapter 56

Have you ever had one of those perfect days where nothing much happens? Wednesday was not one of those days.

I woke to Adam yelling that the house was on fire, but it was just Dad making more crepes. He walked out of the room to take a phone call, because he couldn’t hear over the blender, and forgot it was on.

I reached a fire extinguisher just as he emptied one and put it out. “I’m going for my run since my heart rate is up, I’ll order a new blender later,” I told him, as he started apologizing.

The adrenaline wore off eventually, and I dropped into the zen mode. It was only for a minute, before the air blast of a passing semi, traveling much too fast, pushed me off the road and into the ditch. Adam armored me up, so I was uninjured, but my clothes were a mess, torn and muddy.

I looked around, and saw that there were too many people watching as I climbed out of the ditch to just portal home and call it a day. I was also about five miles from home, so I was going to do ten miles today, whether I wanted to or not.

It was a tough five miles as my anger and adrenaline made it impossible to get in the zone, and just let the miles go. I came home to the strong smell of burned plastic, and just ignored it, heading up to the shower. I tried relaxing myself, but just couldn’t get into it, and was running out of time. I’m much slower when I don’t get into the zen zone.

Dressed, I discovered that my pants were getting short again, and my shirt barely fit. I didn’t have time even for breakfast, or to get different clothes using the Orb. At school, I had to end up using the sidewalk parking, two blocks away where it wasn’t 2 hour parking. As I moved to campus I discovered the seniors had their parents visiting for some reason, and had filled the student parking lot, as well as all the others on campus.

I managed to make it, just as the bell rang, but Ms Allen still gave me a dirty look, and the class a pop quiz because I was almost late. I was on time to physics, but we got another pop quiz anyway. Mr Poole in Journalism wanted me to rewrite my Rose and Bramble review, in its entirety for resubmission on Thursday, but then I was required to spend the entire class being interviewed about the competition on Monday.

PE felt like it might be the turn around point. It was weight day, and I had frustrations I was looking forward to working out.

“Atwood, you getting bigger or did your clothes shrink in the dryer?” Mr Taft asked.

“Bigger sir, none of my clothes fit right this morning,” I told him, aware of just how tight my t-shirt and shorts were. The two didn’t even meet in the middle.

“Go stand by the measuring tape,” he ordered.

I went over and stood in front of the kind of measuring device they put next the door at 7-11’s so that the cashier can tell the cops how tall the robber was.

He checked his chart, “Congratulations, you’re now six foot tall. Come with me,” he ordered, heading through the doors to the locker room.

He stepped into his office, and came back out with a cup. He handed it to me, and I looked at it dumbly, “You unscrew the top, then pee in it Atwood. While I watch.”

It was a struggle to get my shorts down so I could fill it, I capped it, and handed it to him, then waddled to the toilet to finish, and pull up my shorts. He set it in his office, and led me back to the weight room. He gave everyone a stink eye, as if they hadn’t been behaving, and then directed me to the weight bench.

“Today you’re going to give me a new max lift,” he said consulting his clipboard, “I’ve got you as 295, today you are breaking 300.”

The other students at the bench put on the weights, and I settled myself. Taking out the frustration of the day I lifted, brought it to my chest, and lifted it back, arms straight and steady. The assistants helped side it into the rack, and Mr Taft looked at me.

“That was too easy, put more on,” he directed.

I did it again, but it was harder.

“That was harder, but that’s not your Max, your Max is what you struggle to do, but still get up,” he added more weight, “Now try that.”

‘That’ was a struggle, but I managed to do it without activating the Orb or Adam to assist.

“Well done, your new max is 380. Take a break, then start working on reps at 325,” he directed and stepped back outside.

“Dude, that was awesome!” one of my assistants commented.

“You just took top spot for Sophomore and Juniors, maybe Seniors too.”

“I’ve had a rough day, and a lot of anger to lift with.”

I helped the others in the group, spotting and helping to shift weight at the machine, or version of resting between lifts.

Just as it was my turn, Mr Taft showed up again, “Atwood, congratulations, your test came back clean, now what sport do you want?”

“Not sure what you mean, sir?”

“Lifting that weight, and watching you fill out over the last month, it’s time for you to pick a sport, and start calling me coach instead of sir.”