Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

win the race. This time I’m going to have to exert myself—run all-
out. I’m racing against some of the best high school athletes in the
world, grounded powers or not. This is my first real opportunity to
see what I’m made of on the racecourse.
I’m afraid to find out I’m made of nothing more than some talent
and very little grit and determination.
Like my T-shirt says, NO GUTS, NO GLORY.
Still, I’m not about to let anyone know how nervous I am.
“No big deal,” I say, then take an I’m-totally-calm bite of my hamburger.
Troy walks up while my mouth is full and drops into the seat
across from me. Ever since he finished Chemistry tutoring he’s
been in the dumps.
“Hi,” he says.
I try to say, “Hi,” around my hamburger, but it sounds more like,
“Mrff,” so I add a wave.
“I can’t stand this vortex of gloom anymore, Travatas,” Nicole
blurts. “What’s your problem?”
“Yeah,” I say after taking a big gulp of pineapple Fanta to wash
down the hamburger. “You seem so, well, not you.”
He shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess it’s just that, ever since I passed
that test my dad has been pressuring me to apply for the Level 13
pre-med program.”
It kills me to see Troy so torn up. He obviously doesn’t want to
be a doctor, so I don’t know why his parents are forcing him to try.
Music is his passion and they should support that. Just like Mom
supports my running.
“You have to tell them,” I venture.
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