____

{24}

Coach was kind of awful sometimes. He was harsh and, actually, a lot of times had over the top expectations of the others. Not to mention, his favoritism towards a few select members made it harder to get on his good side unless you did as well in as many events as his ‘stars’. I wasn’t sure if I was lucky or not to be someone he favored. Over the years he pressured me to continue topping my records in all of the events he made me do, the least he would accept was excelling in most of them. I loved running, it was my hobby turned scholarship opportunity, but the coach’s sense of competition completely killed the calming factor it once gave me. I have enough on my plate already, graduating medical school and maintaining my relationship with the woman I’ve loved for years, I didn’t need to find out that he’s been scheming to try and keep me on the team for an extra year!

“Kim, are you gearing up for next season yet?” I finally got to sit down with him to talk about everything. The school year literally just started and track practices didn’t come up for two more quarters. I couldn’t believe he was asking me if I was already self-training.

“I start conditioning in the winter, Coach, but I do want to talk about next season,” I scratched my head, glancing around his office due to my nerves. I wasn’t sure what to say first.

“So do I,” he suddenly said and pulled out a file, my file, full of my track records from all of the events and competitions I was in. I furrowed my eyebrows as he took out an orange bottle with a white cape, a prescription bottle. It had pills in it. “Your records are still improving, but recently the margin between improvements has lessened. In order to keep your scholarship and keep receiving new personal records, I thought you should try these out.”

“What are these?” I asked, gesturing to the bottle and I noticed a faint smile on his face.

“Performance enhancing drugs,” he replied.

“Are you serious,” I blurted out, too shocked to think when he nodded surely. Oh my God he wants me to put steroids in my freaking body!

“You just need to keep improving, so a small dosage will give you a bit of a kick to stay ahead and you won’t get caught for it, especially since they always check you and always come up empty.” Oh my God is he that desperate for faster times and longer jumps?! How can he ask me to do that?! Of all runners, he wants a medical student to do drugs!

“I don’t think I can take these…” I mumbled and he waved his hand.

“It’s not gonna hurt you, it’ll just give you a bit more muscle to propel into our desired numbers, but if you really think that you can still top last season’s scores without them then by all means, we’ll see at practice.” All he cares about is me getting UCLA the scores I promised. I took a deep breath, calming the raging heart inside of my ribcage. He wanted to keep you at school for a year longer than normal; he pissed you off, wanted yo to put these things in your body, get mad now! “This will be my last year at UCLA.” He frowned considerably more than usual. “I’ve taken an accelerated program under the medical school and will be graduating with my doctorate this summer.”

“You didn’t talk to me about this?” he asked, but with his tone of voice, it didn’t sound very much like a question anymore.

“I didn’t feel a need to discuss my academic decisions with you,” I shrugged and his expression got darker.

“The terms of your scholarship include that you continue to compete for the school for the scheduled time, you have two more years left,” he fought, jabbing his desk with his finger. “You have to stay.” God he’s a prick.

“The terms say that I get the scholarship money for as long as I compete to your expectations, you can’t force me to stay for two years, especially when I don’t owe the school one of them,” I scowled and for a moment his face fell, but he maintained composure.

“You know I can rearrange your contract and its terms, I suggest you stay on the team for as long as I want you to,” he growled and I felt my blood beginning to boil.

“You can’t do that, actually. I don’t know what kind of strings you pulled for so many people to tell me that I had to stay for another five years after my undergraduate years, but you can’t change the terms of my contract with UCLA,” I insisted and he stood up, his entire figure shaking. The coach was no doubt intimidating, standing six feet tall with a chubby build, but I kept a poker face on.

“Like you said, I have strings I can pull,” he said and I maintained eye contact with him. I wasn’t going to back down when he got me so fired up. I could feel my fingers buzzing with adrenaline.

“Even if I did want to compete for you for another two years, I’m sure the national collegiate association for track and field wouldn’t like it. I’m graduating this year, afterwards I’ll be an alumni, and thereby unqualified to compete,” I said firmly. “Let me remind you, they’ve been checking my educational progress since I debuted on the track. If I keep topping records they’ll keep an eye on me for the opportunity to call out UCLA.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Kim, you wouldn’t be anything without me,” he pointed at himself and I couldn’t help but scoff. As if my success is based off of this meathead.

“Do you think my life revolves around being a star athlete? I couldn’t care less about topping in my events, it’s just a way to get me through school,” I crossed my legs, still on the defensive since the man was still on his feet. He was getting really frustrated, I could tell, and a part of me thought maybe I should leave but I didn’t because it was getting heated up fast and I liked being a leg above him. “I can report you, you know. Forcing me to stay and compete, trying to have me take illegal performance enhancing drugs. You may have intimidated students before me but I don’t care, I’m done with track and field and with school after June.”

“You think you’re so smart, being a medical student and ,” he cursed. Our argument somehow became personal. “But I have a reputation here, I have a history here.”

“All the more reason to suspect you, you’re getting desperate. UCLA hasn’t had any good members until I came around,” I cut in and he slammed his fist on the desk. I jumped a little on instinct.

“You don’t know what it’s like playing this kind of game, . You may have some brains but you don’t know anything about how to work the people, the public, win the favor. It’s more than just running and jumping, you don’t know what it’s like to compete for image. If I told people you’ve been using drugs, they’d believe me and fine your .” The threat did strike fear into me. It was true; I probably didn’t know how to fight for my image. I never needed to fight for my image; people always looked at me in a good light. I wasn’t experienced in being entirely guilty or disliked, as conceited as it sounded. But most of all, even if I didn’t care how people looked at me, I couldn’t pay for one of those fines. Plus with that mark on my record, how would I ever be respected as a doctor, especially when the ER occasionally dealt with overdose cases. I knew I let my weakness slip and he easily saw it. “If I didn’t suggest picking you up you wouldn’t have the means of coming here, even if you did have your academic scholarship.” It was true; I needed both my academic and athletic scholarship to attend UCLA. Without one or the other, I wouldn’t be able to afford school.

I felt my confidence slipping, and with that gone, I had no way of speaking up. He caught me and tangled me in a net of money, in the fear of student debt. Coach glared at me before throwing the bottle of pills back into his desk. “The terms of your scholarship are based on my standards of success,” he flipped through a couple pages before taking out a packet; the multiple papers I had signed to ensure my scholarship. I forgot about one of the worst qualities an enraged person could have that he not only possessed, but lived by: impulsiveness. My stomach churned when he looked back at me, his pupils black with power. “I think last season you let the others get a bit too close to beating you.” This is it. I’m done, screwed over.

“I’m not scared of you.” It was all I could say that was truth.

“Be scared of your bills.” He ripped the packet in half with a purely evil smirk. me now.

I collapsed onto the side of my bed, slipping down until I sat on the floor. No, this isn’t just any floor, it’s their floor. The one I now have to pay for. I lifted my head and stared at the wall. I thought of my argument with the coach. I never had to see him again, but it came at one Hell of a price. Everything began shaking in my ears and my surroundings blurred. I lost. I dropped my head onto the bed and cried. I couldn’t pay for even half of my tuition; I went to medical school, it was expensive. My family didn’t have the money that was for sure, they would never pay for me. I was on my own and I didn’t even have a job to earn money. Is this what I get for sticking up for myself? I sobbed harder, clutching the mattress with one hand while the other trembled and held my phone. I sniffed, holding in my sobs as I tried calling the only person that could somehow soothe me. I laid my head on top of my phone, trying to control my uncontrollable emotions. “You call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system—.”

“,” I sighed and tossed my phone over my shoulder, feeling a sharp pain in my chest as I cried harder. I can’t even lean on you right now. I screamed into a fistful of blankets. I fell back and let my head hit the floor, wincing as the ache seemed to shoot from the back of my head to my forehead. I noticed my tattoo on my wrist. I honestly forgot about it and it only made the ache grow stronger. The tattoo won’t help me now. It hurt to know that. I closed my eyes, big, bitter tears trailing into my hair. Soft weeps escaped my throat and brought forth another wave of emotions. The more you fight the longer it takes to calm down. So I let myself be vocal, muffling my cries by pulling up my knees. I laid there for what felt like hours, crying into my knees on the floor until it felt like the world around me was crumbling away into nothingness.

“Taeyeon? Dr. Lee told me you left your homework at the hospital, Xiumin told me where you lived, and why is your door open?” I groaned pathetically as I heard a voice other than mine, especially since it was that of a teenager I did not want to see. “Oh my God! Are you okay?” Jieun made me sit up and I wiped my eyes in vain, holding onto my quivering lip. She stared at me with worry and care, not minding to cover up her emotions. “Taeyeon?” Her voice was so gentle and soft, it cracked my heart. it.

“I need a hug,” I whimpered and she threw her arms around my neck without a second to spare, holding me as I buried my pounding head into her shoulder. I just needed someone, anyone to hold me. I settled for Jieun, even if I craved for another woman to be in my arms. I let another round of fresh, hot tears seep into her shirt with the thought. I found my hands gripping her waist tightly, I was surprised she made no comment, but I just desperately wanted her to be Tiffany so I held her the way I held my girlfriend. I stared at my tattoo, covered in tears, making sure I didn’t touch Jieun with it.