Chapter 5 #2
“We’ll start with bodyweight-based strength tests.
Today you’ll take turns doing pull-ups and timed planks, on Wednesday, you’ll do pistol squats and hand-to-hand combat, and on Friday, you’ll all run the obstacle course.
Each class will end in suicide runs on the hill behind the arena.
Pay attention to the flags marking your turning points; failure to note your surroundings will not be excused.
“Do your best to max out on every rep; your class rankings will reflect your performance, and the five lowest ranking students each month will get a mark against them in their files.”
A pause, deliberate.
“First round starts in five; I suggest you stretch.”
Everyone jumps into motion, stretching and shaking out nerves before the clock runs down.
Perry, a redhead who stood close to me in formation, elbows me lightly. “Hey, are you ready for this?”
“I think so. You?”
“Ready to fail miserably? Yes!” His smile is pained, and I get the idea he’s here for the more academic tracks, not the physical ones.
“Hey, we’re going to focus on one thing at a time.
Don’t think about them too much or you’ll psych yourself out.
” I try to encourage him, but despite being a fitness coach, pep-talks are definitely not my strong suit.
One-liners are my sweet spot: You’ve got this…
You’re almost there…Just imagine it’s his dad you’re riding.
Okay, I admit, the last one only came out once, but Raquel had been dumped that day, and her ex’s dad was crazy hot. And it worked because her pelvic thrusts and Kegel workouts were on a completely different level after that.
Korr blows the whistle, causing half the class to blanch as warm-up time comes to an end.
“We’re starting with pull-ups,” he calls. “Full arm extension. Your chin must go above the bar; no shortcuts. If I catch you cheating, you start over.”
I’m not surprised when the first few recruits jumping to the bars are in incredible shape. They max out at twenty before Korr calls them down, and the next group takes their places.
I watch as Emily Tarlow from intake moves to the middle bar.
From the moment she hops up to grab the bar to when she drops during her sixteenth pull-up, she remains the picture of precision, every movement controlled, no shaking in her arms or kicking of her legs…
I officially want to be her when I grow up.
A handful of recruits manage eights, nines, and tens; others, like Perry, are lucky to hit two or three before their arms give out.
“Corvin, you’re up.”
I roll my shoulders and neck one last time before I climb onto the wooden box that acts as a step for the vertically challenged like me, too short to jump from the ground and too stubborn to get a boost from anyone else.
I grip the bar as best as I can. The metal’s slick, whether from the person before me sweating on it or from my own nerves getting the best of me, I’m not sure, but it’s not going to do me any favors.
“Show me what you’ve got,” Korr barks, apparently just as bad at motivational speeches as I am.
My shoulders protest on the first rep, feeling the lack of training over the last few months, but I grit my teeth and pull.
One. Two. Three.
By nine, the burn in my forearms flares like fire under my skin.
By twelve, my arms are trembling.
By fourteen, my body is rioting against me, but still, I hold Korr’s gaze.
Sheer will carries me when my strength starts to fray, and I haul myself up again and again, hitting seventeen, the highest for any woman so far.
As I lower myself down for another pull-up, my hands slip, and I feel the huge blisters that have formed in the last few minutes rupture. I fall to the ground, warm blood coating my palms before dripping to the dirt.
Wiping my hands on the grass to the side of the bars, I take a couple of steadying breaths, trying to pull my heartbeat back into something resembling normal.
“Damn, girl! That was impressive!”
Looking up, I'm surprised to see Emily beaming down at me.
“Thanks,” I say, still trying catch my breath. “I’m jealous of how easy you made yours look.”
“Upper body, I’m great, running is where I lose all hope,” she laughs as she walks away to get water.
Korr’s voice carries from the bars where the last group has started, “I expected you to stop at eight.”
“Guess I’m full of surprises,” I say, lifting my chin and pretending the sweat dripping down my jaw doesn’t exist. Never let them see you sweat.
His brow ticks up at my indignation, “Let’s see if that holds up after the hill.”
The corners of my mouth threaten to betray me, but I turn before he can see it.
“I think he gets off on torturing us,” Perry complains as we walk to the hill for suicide sprints.
“Running not your thing, I take it?”
“Please don’t tell me you’re good at this, too!” His voice is a borderline whine that I can’t help but laugh at.
“Oh gods, you are!”
“I’ve been running since I was young, but I promise my hand-to-hand skills will leave a lot to be desired if that makes you feel better?”
“Uhm, it would have if you didn’t skip over all of our other challenges this week like they don’t exist. What are you, one of those weird people that flips tires for fun and shit?”
Laughing, I shake my head, “No tires, I swear. I’ve worked in a gym for years though, so the planks and pull-ups and stuff are just another day at work.”
“I don’t know if we can be friends,” he jokes as the last of our group gets set on the starting line.
Korr gives us a countdown, at the blow of his whistle, we all take off like a shot from a gun. The mostly dry soil has just the right amount of give to let my shoes get traction as I lean into the hill on my way up and lean back a bit on my way down.
Pushing my body to its limits, I feel my knee start to lock on my second-to-last trip back down the hill, remnants of an old injury my dad gave me.
I’m in third place as I pivot at the final flag, but a few steps into my last descent, I stumble, barely catching myself before I hit the ground.
When I straighten, Korr’s staring at me, arms folded, and a deep scowl souring his face.
“Rolling down the hill will not be counted, Corvin,” he barks, his eyes still locked on me. “Clean it up!”
What could I possibly have done to get on his bad side already?
Unwilling to fall too far behind, I push myself harder, hoping my knee doesn’t give out entirely.
When I cross the finish line, I don’t need to be a doctor to know I’ll be icing a very swollen and angry knee tonight.
Trying to relieve some weight—but knowing better than to sit and risk not being able to get back up—I lean against the closest tree, crossing my legs in hopes it looks casual.
The last thing I need is for anyone to find my weak spots and mark me as their target.
Of fucking course, Captain Korr steps in front of me, arms crossed again, and looking too good for someone so infuriating.
“Not bad,” he says before lowering his voice to a volume meant only for me, “Don’t lose that stubborn streak. It suits you.”
His words shouldn’t excite me and make my pulse skip, but they do.
“Yes, Sir.”
As he turns away, clipboard tucked under one arm, I swear there’s the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth…one I wasn’t meant to see.
I start to imagine the kind of praise that could come from that gorgeous mouth if I were laid out beneath him, my hands pinned above my head while he strokes his—
He suddenly starts coughing. Like, full-on choking-on-air coughing.
Oh gods.
No. No way.
There’s absolutely no way he can read minds…right?
Shit, I’m going to have to ask Sasha if there’s some spell that gives people that ability later.