...you do okay. (Physique 2)

You know you came in very physically fit as well as understanding how Lacrosse is played, and that helps you out a lot. You still feel that you could have worked out more since arriving here, but you really do get in a few good plays. What helps you even more is that far too many of the other prospects are incompetent to the point of farce, and would be worse than useless on the team. Coach Mayfield seems visibly horrified at his options. In the end, you make it in primarily due to the display of basic competence.

It's still enough to exhaust you. As the sun lowers in the sky, you head over to the water station and find the cheerleaders there.

"Hey," you say, as you take a drink of water.

"Hey," {If Know Taylor = 1}Taylor says. "{else}the black cheerleader says. "My name is Taylor. {endif}I saw you out there."

"Oh, really," you say, trying to act cool. "What did you think?"

Her light and well-rounded face has a harsh, critical expression. "You're not meeting your potential."

"Whoa," you chuckle to hide the wound from that cut. "You know...that's not the kind of thing people normally outright say."

"Because those people care about being nice," Taylor says. "I care about the team. About our success. If I'm going to cheer for Lacrosse I am cheering for the best damn Lacrosse team in the State, and right now this ain't it."

"So you hope for more," you say.

"No," she shakes her head, one of her straightened bangs comes down over her eye. "I expect more. Especially from you. Are you holding out on us?"

"Why would you think I am?" You ask.

She looks you up at down. Then, as if there's nothing strange about it, she starts circling you, examining you from different angles. "You have the body for it. But your actual coordination just...isn't there right now. So it's a skill issue?"

"You don't have to treat me like a piece of meat," you say.

She looks up at your face. Her cold black eyes burn for a second, then freeze over again. She says, "think of it this way. Every team member kind of is a piece of meat. They're an organ out of the whole body, the team. I don't have any reason to treat you as an individual until you earn that."

It's enough to make you snap. "Look, you are a cheerleader. Can you just take a step back and acknowledge that?"

One of the other cheerleaders chuckles, you almost forgot they were there.

"You really don't get how this works, then," she says. "I'm also part of the body of the team, and a lot closer to the head than you are."

You clench both your fists. There's no point in interacting with her anymore. You abruptly start walking away.

"What are you doing?" She asks, as you go.

"I'm not dealing with your shit," you say.

Despite yourself, you glance back once, as you step off the field and into campus. You see that she is looking at you, and you are just close enough to see a new look on her face. Are you imagining it, or is that...some kind of respect? No. You aren't dealing with her. You head back onto campus.

That night, you overcome your own exhaustion and go to the gym. You don't work yourself hard, but you do work out. You are not going to let Taylor demean you, or disappoint Jordan. If you're going to be on this Lacrosse team, you're going to be a good player. At one point, you feel like you almost might puke, but you keep pushing yourself and ultimately feel the tingling in your muscles that means that you have worked them to the point that they will grow.

Then, of course, you go back to your dorm room and collapse. You wake up in the morning unsure of whether you had dinner.