I Hid My Perfect Score novel · Chapter 5 of 32

Chapter 5: Four A.M.

Emory knocked on the bunkroom door at 3:55 the next morning.

"Up, Carmody."

Dodie groaned from the bottom bunk and threw a pillow at the door.

"She's sleeping. Go away. I'll make you a muffin."

"I don't want a muffin. I want a trainee."

I was already lacing my boots.

I hadn't slept anyway. The blackout blanket had a gap, and the sun had been staring at me through it all night.

Outside, the light was gold and sideways.

Emory handed me the forty-five-pound vest and a thermos.

"Coffee," he said.

"I don't drink coffee."

"You do now. It's in the contract."

"What contract?"

"The one I'm making up."

I drank it.

It was terrible.

We walked the road behind the station first, not ran.

He made me lengthen my stride on the downhills and shorten it on the climbs.

"Your problem isn't your legs," he said.

"My legs would disagree."

"Your problem is you go out like someone's chasing you. Then you die at mile two."

"Someone usually is."

He looked over at me.

I kept walking.

He didn't ask, and I liked him for that.

On the fourth morning I got to mile two before I wanted to die.

On the ninth morning I made a joke at mile two.

It wasn't a good joke. It was about the coffee.

Emory laughed anyway, out loud, and then looked annoyed at himself for laughing.

"Don't do that," he said. "I'm supposed to be scary."

"You're wearing a T-shirt with a cartoon hydrant on it."

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