"Your girlfriend is very flexible," Coach says heartily, and then he turns to me with a stern stare, "Get her off the track."
I'm practically crying when I look at my track coach. I say to him, "Please don't make me tell her to leave. She won't listen to me."
He looks at me and laughs jollily. "But isn't she your girlfriend? At least that's what everyone's telling me."
I whip my head behind me to all of my teammates who are laughing their asses off. I give them a death glare and they immediately stop laughing, except for Emy and Joe, of course. It's alright when they laugh because we're friends. The rest of the team, however, as nice as I may be to them, they get pretty scared of me for some reason.
"B-but, Coach, please." I clasp my hands together and even start to get down on my knees. My coach stops his jolly laugh and grabs my arm before my knees touch the track.
"Jesus, Ollie, get up." I sigh and eventually get up. Coach gives me a serious look. "Take responsibility of your girlfriend. She can't sit in the middle of the track, scratching her head with her toes. It's unsanitary."
I roll my eyes and groan, walking towards my doom, towards my girlfriend, and tell Coach, "I've already tried telling her that."
"Then why doesn't she stop?" Coach calls after me.
"She likes stretching and multi-tasking," I say glumly. I drag my feet as slow as I can, my shoulders hunched, and sigh. Finally, after three minutes of going nowhere and my coach yelling at me to pick up the pace, I reach Nico. Scratching her nose with her toes. I'm so embarrassed.
"Hey, ugly, what's happening?" Nico grins. She withdraws her feet from her face and gets up, putting a finger in her ear, trying to clean out the earwax.
"U-uh, Nico, you can't sit in the middle of the track. You can sit in the bleachers, though, if you want," I say hesitantly.
"Why should I?" She doesn't say it with malice, though, just wondering.
"B-because, we're gonna run?" I offer.
Nico smiles. She takes her finger out of her ear and pokes me on the nose. (I can hear my teammates groaning in disgust as she does it.) "I'll go in the bleachers, if you give me a piggy-back ride."
I gape at her and glance at my teammates, who are looking at me curiously. I don't think they can hear us. I hope they don't.
"N-Nico, please, don't. I'll give you one later," I smile nervously.
"I'm sitting down, Ollie," Nico grins. She starts to lower herself down onto the track and her foot is dangerously rising to her face.
"OLLIE, HURRY UP!" my coach screams from the other side of the track.
I panic and grab Nico's foot (again with my teammates' groans). I hang my head down and mumble, "Okay, I'll do it." As Nico cheers loudly to herself, I crouch down. Nico wraps her arms around my neck and hikes up onto my back. I put my arms under both her legs and lift her up.
"Off to the bleachers, old chap!" Nico yells. I smile despite myself and start towards the bleachers.
Two minutes and thirty-four seconds later, Nico is knocked out. Drool dribbles down my collarbone. Her hair, which I can tell she hasn't washed in two days due to the grease, is flush against my cheek. I set her down gently onto one of the bleachers, but it doesn't matter because she falls onto the hard ground anyway. She doesn't wake up, typically. I quickly try to fix her so that she's not spread out and you can see her panties, but it doesn't work because she kicks me in the shin as she's sleeping.
"Sorry, Nico, but I gotta leave," I tell her knocked out body which looks so uncomfortable. She's got her head at a ninety-degree angle compared to the rest of her body. Her arms and legs are splayed all over, and if someone were to peek, they could see her panties. I shrug off my sweater and drop it over her lower-half in case of perverts.
Finally after like eight minutes, I sprint back to the 100 meter mark where all the sprinters are standing.
"Whipped!" someone coughs from the back of the group and people laugh. I snap my head towards them and silence echoes quickly.
I turn towards Coach. "Why didn't you guys start?"
"We wanted to watch you get whipped." I drop my head. Even my coach thinks I'm whipped. "Ollie, why did you …. give your girlfriend a piggy back ride?" Coach snickers.
"She asked," I say blankly. I realize how stupid I sound, thank you very much.
"And you just gave it to her?" Coach gapes at me. "You are whipped." The track fills with laughter.
"H-hey, no, I'm not. I'm just …. romantic," I pathetically try to yell at them over their laughs. But they laugh harder at me. I'm starting to get angry. I can feel my body boiling. Finally I yell at them, "Shut up!" and immediately they all stop. Except for Coach, Emy, and Joe. Coach comes down from his make-fun-of-Ollie high and tells everyone to get down and do starts.
I get down in lane one and Joe follows me in lane two. He smirks at me and gets into position and tells me, "Nico is so weird."
With anyone else, I'd be pissed out of my mind, but since it's Joe, I'm okay with it. Joe and I have been friends since fifth grade when we sat together at lunch. I don't know why we sat with each other, but we did. So if Joe insults Nico, I'm alright with it because he doesn't mean it.
Coach yells out, "On your marks, get set, go!" and we sprint off.
As I'm running, I do admit Joe is right. Nico is extremely weird. The first time I met her is when she was taking a dump in the boys' bathroom. I was walking in the halls and all of a sudden I got a whiff of a terrible smell coming from the guys' bathroom. Contrary to popular belief, guys' bathrooms don't always smell like that, so I went in and heard a female grunt.
I told the girl that this was a guys' bathroom, but she ignored me and asked if there was any toilet paper in the other stall. I tossed a roll into her stall and waited until she got out. I was ready to tell her that she's not allowed in the guys' bathroom, but then she came out and flashed a pretty smile and said thank you.
I was stunned by both her pretty, innocent smile and her bluntness that I didn't notice her putting on make-up and taking her sweet time. I told her that this is the guys' bathroom, and she said, "Jesus, it's like you're hiding something in here! What is it? Is it drugs? Money? Food?" I gaped and her and told her guys need privacy, and she smirked and said, "What? With other guys?"
Then she tapped me on my nose—without washing her hands—and left, saying, "Buh-bye-bye!"
After I asked around, I found out she's actually Nico Midori. It was kind of stupid of me, because I realized she's always been in my class—from first grade to now, eleventh grade. We share the same schedule—Wind Ensemble, Honors Chem, gym, French III, Honors US History II, Pre-AP English, lunch, Pre-Calc, and then AP Government. I never realized how stupid I was until the second I stepped into class the next day and I saw her with her clarinet reed sticking out of her mouth as she yelled out to me, "Yo, Toilet Paper!"
I finish the hundred meters in second place with some kid, Clark, in first. Nico's presence is freaking me out. I practically trip when I glance back at her lifeless body in the bleachers.
Joe pants, "You okay?"
I glance at him. "Yeah, yeah. Just tired is all." NOT AT ALL.
Joe turns towards the bleachers as we walk back towards the 100 meter start line. "Augh, Nico's eating off the bleachers. Where does she get this food?"
I look up and sure enough, she's cutting a watermelon. When she sees me, she waves. I crack a smile and quickly turn away, a bit ashamed. Then I see my teammates snickering at me behind my back. Some stupid freshmen. I give them a look and they immediately shut up, quickly looking away, embarrassed.
The reason people are afraid of me is because of last year, which was the beginning of Nico and my relationship. I was in the lunch line and as I was grabbing a strawberry milk, I heard someone say Nico's name. I quickly swerved through the line so I could be behind the guy—Craig Smith—who was talking about Nico.
"…. And so I told Mr. Bell that I did the assignment and he just ignored me. So I yelled at him, and that freak Nico Midori start mocking me, started throwing used tissues at me."
"What did you do?" Craig's friend asked.
"I couldn't do anything because Principal Huynh walked in. Huynh already thinks I'm the one who stole his toupee. I don't wanna make him angrier. But seriously, why is that bitch so weird?"
At that point, I was trying hard to restrain myself from flipping out on Craig. I just ignored him, paid my lunch, and walked away. I made it all the way through the first half of lunch and almost forgot about what he had said. But then I saw Craig walking towards the garbage can with his tray full of used napkins, a half-eaten cheeseburger, and mashed-up fries swimming in ketchup. I quickly diverted my attention solely on Nico and Emy's conversation.
And then Craig 'tripped' and spilled his lunch tray all over Nico—ketchup, fries, and milk smothered all over Nico's shirt and skirt—and then he whistled out a "Whoops, sorry." Before Nico could even call him out on it, I snapped. I was up off my chair and menacingly stepping closer and closer to Craig, whose laughter quickly died.
He wrinkled his brow and snorted out weakly, stepping back, "What the hell are you doing?"
I really don't know what came over me. I must've been pretty scary at that moment because I couldn't hear a noise. No one said anything. Normally, I'd be pissing my pants in embarrassment or I'd try to play it off cool, but seeing Craig smirking like that, insulting Nico, I wanted to murder him.
I leaned closer to Craig who was flush against the wall of the cafeteria, with a finger raised, and whispered, "You do that again, and I will kill you." And then my fist slammed against the wall, a centimeter away from Craig's head. When I pulled my fist back, there was a hole.
And then Nico pants-ed Craig, and we could see his Tweety Bird underwear. Of course, I didn't notice it because I was still seething, until Nico grabbed my hand and said, "What a romantic gesture from such a gentleman!" I immediately cracked back into my regular self and scratched my head.
Having three weeks detention was worth it, I guess. People don't mess with me now, and I have more respect. Plus, I know that if anyone insulted me, Nico would be the first to beat that person's ass up.
I hear a loud belch, coming from the bleachers. I look up and Nico is patting her stomach and reaching for another slice of watermelon covered in flecks of dirt. Joe elbows me in the side and says, "You ever try to teach her manners?"
I give him a look. "She beats me up every time I do."
When practice ends, I ask Joe to bring my stuff from my locker to the bleachers while I watch out for perverts coming to take a peek at Nico, yet again, knocked out. This time, her skirt is wide open, her panties exposed to the world. I put my sweater over her lower half, but she keeps knocking it off. I guess I could pull her skirt down a little bit more to cover her panties, but if I touch her there, I don't know if I could stop.
Joe brings me back my gym bag and backpack and says, "Are you always gonna take care of her until she dies?"
I blink and look at Nico drooling. I grin. "Of course."
A/N: I wrote this a long time ago, and I posted it up here. I tried entering it in a contest, but I lost TT___TT Oh wells. I thought I lost it, but when I was clearing out my flash drive today, I found both chapters I'd wrote! This is honestly my most favorite story I've ever written because it just came out so perfectly. You should love it as much as I love it.