Chapter 22: Thieves, Skewers, and Curves ( 22 )
"Now, run 10 laps," the trainer said, crossing his arms.
"Seriously?" I groaned, still trying to catch my breath from the fifty club swings.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" he shot back, his scarred face completely serious.
"Ugh... fine!"
I dragged myself to my feet and started running. Ten laps. Ten freaking laps. It wasn't easy when I was already dead tired.
"Damn it... haaa... haaa..." I wheezed, my legs feeling like lead.
By the time I finished, I was barely standing. I stumbled over to a nearby bench and flopped down like a sack of potatoes. My whole body was screaming. Legs? Jelly. Arms? Noodles. Lungs? Nonexistent.
"Haaa... haaa... I hate this... I hate this so much..." I muttered between gasps, wiping sweat from my forehead.
The trainer chuckled, leaning against a nearby post. "Good. Means you're actually working. Look, kid, you're weak. But weak ain't the same as useless. You just gotta find what works for you."
I glared at him, too exhausted to retort. "Ugh... fine... thanks, I guess."
"Oh, and one more thing—" He leaned in with a smirk. "Try not to die to a slime next time."