Juvie by Steve Watkins Page B

they know is coming next.
    “Drop the balls and give me ten laps!” Officer Killduff barks. The rest of the girls groan and then plod after Chantrelle and Good Gina, more shuffling than running. I park both basketballs under the goal and quickly catch up. It’s hard running so slow, so I decide to pick it up a little.
    “Slow down and run with us,” Good Gina calls after me.
    “Can’t,” I say.
    It feels good to stretch my legs and fill my lungs and let myself fly around the perimeter of the gym the way I’ve done thousands of times at thousands of basketball practices, and I pretty quickly catch up to the slow-moving herd of girls before they’re even halfway around the gym.
    Bad Gina pretends she’s going to trip me as I run past. I slide around her in my juvie sandals, which don’t have much traction and make corners difficult.
    Chantrelle calls after me this time as I pass them, though not so loud that the officers can hear: “Slow down, girl. You’re making everybody look bad.”
    I ignore her and keep running, picking up the pace a little more, and pass them all again just as they’re starting their second lap.
    Bad Gina jumps in and runs alongside me, her blond ponytail whipping behind her.
    “Damn, girl,” she says. “You got the need for speed or what?”
    She elbows me and I lose my stride, but just for a second.
    “No,” I say. “Just feel like running.”
    “You know you’re just running circles, right?” she says. She doesn’t seem to be having any trouble keeping up. “It’s not like you’re going to get anywhere.”
    I don’t reply, and Bad Gina doesn’t say anything else, just grins for the next couple of laps until I pick up the pace a little more, to see how it feels and to see how she’ll do. She responds by cutting inside and making me work harder at the corners. We keep running hard for several more laps and keep passing the other girls, neither of us stopping when we get to ten.
    After several more laps, Bad Gina sprints out ahead. I strain to keep up with her. Sprinting is even harder with the sandals on. We skid every time we round the corners. My breathing turns ragged, but at least hers does, too.
    I’ve almost forgotten the guards are there until we hit what’s probably lap twenty and Officer Killduff yells at us, “Last lap! Winner gets double time in the shower!”
    “Game on,” Bad Gina rasps, pulling more speed from out of somewhere. I respond the best I can, though my legs feel like lead and I’m running seriously low on oxygen. Bad Gina stays two steps ahead through most of the final lap, but I keep pressing, hanging on at her shoulder and she knows it. Then we round the last corner, and she nearly loses control. One of her sandals flies off and she skids in her sock, giving me just enough opportunity to pass her — until she grabs the back of my jumpsuit.
    She jerks me back hard and whips ahead, just beating me past Officer Killduff.
    “And we have a winner,” he says, even though he must have seen Bad Gina cheat.
    I grab my knees when I stop, and so does she.
    “Double shower time,” Bad Gina rasps. “That’s six sweet minutes of hot water. I’d kill my own grandmother for that.”
    I suppose I should count myself lucky, then. The rest of the girls crowd around us, except for the Jelly Sisters, who keep their distance. Weeze gives Bad Gina a high five, and there’s a chorus of “You go, girls” until Officer Killduff breaks up the party.
    “Ten more laps for dogging it the first time,” he says. “Except for these two.” He points to Bad Gina and me. “And if I don’t see real running, we’ll have to find out how you ladies like doing wind sprints the whole rest of gym class.”
    “Damn it, Sadie,” Chantrelle mutters, out of earshot of Officer Killduff. She looks genuinely dismayed. “I told you to slow it down. Now look what you done.”
    “Sorry,” I say.
    “Yeah, sorry,” Bad Gina adds. Weeze gives her another high five as she