A/N: THIS STORY HAS BEEN REMOVED.

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.tracks.

- aka

the encyclopedia of hell

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"You were at a doctor's appointment?"

I hated how Principal Fern looked at me. He almost seemed to be interrogating me. Was he a policeman or a principal? Sometimes I wasn't too sure.

"I was at a doctor's appointment," I confirmed, trying to sound mocking yet at the same time, not too obvious so that he couldn't call me to it. "That's why I need the homework I missed in the afternoon. Could you please tell Mrs. Harris that—"

"I'll call you down to the office in about an hour. I should have all your homework here by then and you can come pick it up." Mr. Fern turned away from me and sat downat his desk. "In the meantime, go and enjoy track."

Enjoy track? I bit down a gag and stood up. "Thanks," I said, then left.

The sun was bright and blinding, bathing the day in a warmth that many of the trackathletes enjoyed. A slight wind carried across the yard that held the many events. Various students from competing schools stood at each event with anticipation—their paces were set; their goals shared. Each and every one of them loved the competition; the anticipation, hardly minding the sun that beat on their backs and burned at their skin.