Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

want you to push each other to perform at your highest level. The
pairs are as follows—”
He starts reading names from his clipboard. As he works through
the roster, I’m starting to get worried—he hasn’t read my name or
Griffin’s yet.
No, I tell myself. Coach Lenny wouldn’t do this to me.
Then he does. “Phoebe Castro and Griffin Blake.”
He gives us a brief rundown of our workouts then turns to walk
out of the stadium. I jog up and tap him on the shoulder. Griffin,
of course, is right behind me.
“Something wrong?” Coach Lenny asks when he sees the sour
look on my face.
“No, sir,” Griffin answers.
I glare at him. “Pair me with someone else, Coach.”
“He’s the only one capable of pushing you, Phoebe.” Coach
Lenny gives me an apologetic look. “Work with him.”
“No. He’s an a—”
“For the sake of your running,” Coach Lenny says. “It’s just for
one day.” Then he gives Griffin a threatening look. “Follow the workout,
push her to do her best, or you’ll answer to me on race day.”
“Yes, sir,” Griffin replies, the picture of a perfect gentleman.
Ha. What a put on.
The second Coach Lenny walks away he starts in. “Phoebe, I
know you’re mad, and you have every right to be—”
“Thanks for the permission,” I say.
I stalk across the inner lawn, find an empty spot with lots of
room, and settle in to do my stretches. Griffin, right on my tail, sits
down next to me, mimicking my actions.
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