Military School: an educational institution which prepares candidates for service in the officer corps. It usually provides education in a military environment, in some areas they can be used as correctional institutions for troubled or misbehaved children/adults.
*
Despite there being one week until school went back for the third term, the school was still hosting events during the holiday break.
The school, this time, was hosting some track events, inviting some of the closer surrounding schools to make up some variety, but overall it was mainly another opportunity for the main track team to practice and train.
Amada was dressed in his sports T-shirt and navy shorts. He was standing amongst some of the boys, stretching out on the side of the tracks. Surprisingly, the quad was populated with school students, teachers and parents. It was quite the turn out considering I knew for a fact half of these people didn't have anyone in our small track teams.
The whole dorm had made their way out to support Amada in his primary races and me in some of the smaller ones. Robyn's parents even came out to support Amada. It was nice to see.
Alexis sat next to me, rugged up in a thick overcoat, long pants and gumboots. She had earbuds in to try and suppress some of the noise of the chitter chatter of excited crowds surrounding us.
We sat on the first bench of the bleachers, front row seats to see the runners and athletes. I envied the people not running. It was freezing.
Everyone from the dorm wore long sleeves, stockings, trousers and what have you. Meanwhile, Amada, Mia and I were forced to wear the slightly shorter uniform we were performing in. I felt worse for Mia, she had gotten the cheerleader dress and was being thrown in the air during routines.
Mia looked happy.
Alexis pulled one of her earbuds out, linking arms with me and resting her head on my shoulder. "God it's cold," I muttered, breathing into my hands.
"Oh, you poor baby," Alexis cooed pressing my fingertips against her lips.
"Morning Rusty, Newbie," Dylan greeted as he approached us. In one hand he was holding a bag of popcorn, in the other a hotdog.
Alexis sniffed the air, "Popcorn?"
Dylan smirked, "All yours." He tossed the bag at her, the top of it hitting her on the nose as she caught it. "What race you running in?" he asked, fitting a good chunk of the hot dog in his mouth.
"I'm in the 800 meters and the senior relays," I informed, nicking some popcorn from the bag.
"What about Amada?" he asked gesturing to Amada. He was laughing with one of the Delinquent boys about something.
"Coach has put him in a couple of races, actually," I said, "I think his first one is the 100-meter dash."
"That's first up, isn't it?" Dylan queried, "Josh is in that race. Gonna make Romano run for his money."
"You've seen him run, Dylan," I countered, "He'll do fine."
"Wanna bet?" Dylan asked, the familiar gleam returning to his eye.
"Oof, haven't heard a Dylan bet in a while," Alexis commented, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, "This'll be interesting."
I smiled, "What were you thinking?"
Dylan looked at Amada and Josh, who was still chatting on the sideline. "How about destruction?" he offered, "I have yet to see you break anything since you got here, Mr Goody-Two-Shoes. Amada loses to Josh, you, me, abandoned car lot to smash stuff."
"There are easier ways to ask him on a date, Dylan," Alexis teased.
Dylan shrugged, "I like being complicated. You of all people know that."
I smiled as Alexis rolled her eyes, "When you said break something I thought you meant bones then," I commented.
He shrugged, "Save that for the second date," he joked.
Alexis scoffed. I shook my head, "And if I win?"
Dylan shrugged, "Your pick. I don't have money, so don't ask me for that."
I leaned back, trying to think of something a bit more embarrassing than a smash a car session. "How bad can I go?" I inquired, leaning on my knees and pressing my fingertips together.
"Get creative with it," Dylan dared, "I like variety."
Alexis let off a loud groan, "You guys are so weird!"
An idea formed. "I got something," I sat up straight, "You and the Delinquents pose for a calendar."
Dylan and Alexis gave me weird looks. "What?"
"You heard me. Like the firemen calendars, but Delinquent version," I informed, "Josh loses, you all pose for a twelve-month calendar."
Alexis stifled her laugh. Dylan taking a moment to process the bet before blinking and nodding, "Alright. Sure. Bit weirder then I expected, but fine." He held his hand out to shake, "It's a deal." With a nod, I took his hand, and we shook on the bet.
"Are all boys this weird, or are you two just a special kind of bromance I can never hope to understand?" Alexis asked.
"We're a special brand of bromance, Rusty," Dylan replied taking back his line, "Catch you later. Meeting up with the other boys." He snapped his fingers twice, prompting Alexis to raise her hand and they started a weirdly fluent handshake before he left.
"You guys have a handshake?" I asked in slight disbelief.
She tilted her head, "We can have a handshake if you want."
"Third wheel bomb!" Estelle called as she wedged her way between Alexis and me. She sat down between us, an icy-pole in hand as she bit down on its edge, "What did I miss?"
"Literally nothing," Alexis informed.
"Aren't you running?" Estelle asked looking to me.
I nodded, "I'm later. So, I figured I'd just watch Amada's races from the bleachers."
Estelle fitted her treat in her mouth and started rummaging through the brown leather bag she had brought. "What do you think Amada will come today?" she asked, the popsicle almost falling out her mouth, "First?"
"Hopefully," I replied, "Why?"
"Remember when the carnival came in town?" She pulled out a sparkling tiara from her bag, "I forgot to give him this. It came in the mail finally. If he comes first, it'll be the cherry on the cake."
"May I?" Alexis asked, holding her hand out.
Estelle placed it in her hands, continuing to lick her lolly as Alexis examined the tiara with her fingers. It was very a sight to behold. It was a shiny silver base with pink, glittery jewels fastened into loops in the silver. While it was small, I could imagine it perched on the heads of some kind of royalty. Or in this case, the first place athletics winner.
"It's really smooth," Alexis commented, running her fingers along the under rim, "Like seriously. How new is this?"
Estelle smiled, "Its only about a year old but I've never worn it. Far too plain for my taste."
"I'm sure he'll love it, Star," Alexis said handing it back.
Estelle nodded, "He'd better. He's not getting another one."
There was a muffled announcement for the 100-meter fifteens to begin line up. At the mention of this, the girls cheered in Amada's direction as he walked to the starting line.
I glanced behind me, up two steps was Ava and Robyn, signing applause along with Robyn's parents. Moments later, Bonnie rolled up, a tub of popcorn on her lap with Amia walking alongside her, somewhat dazed.
"Something wrong?" I asked, noting Amia's distant stare.
"Someone saw their Father earlier," Bonnie informed when Amia wouldn't answer.
The mention of it prompted a throat clear. "Umm… I thought I had seen him in the parking lot," she explained, her words small and her brows tensed up in a scowl, "I didn't know he was coming to today's track event, he told me he was too busy to make it out." Amia sounded offended, and saddened, at saying this. She coughed, shaking her head and trying to joke, "I haven't seen him since so maybe his doppelganger is around here somewhere."
I managed to suppress a shiver at the idea there was a Mr Romano lookalike wandering around the school's athletics quad.
"I heard the announcement. Has Amada run yet?" Amia asked.
I shook my head, "He's over there. Looks like he's about to."
Amia bit the inside of her cheeks, choosing to sit on the grass in front of us instead of on the bleachers. I nudged her with my foot, "You okay?" I asked quietly.
She shrugged, leaning back, so she was against my knee and looked up at me. "Not sure," she answered, "Father told us he wasn't coming. I just hope Amada doesn't see him while he's on track. He might freak out."
I sighed, reaching forwards and patting her head, the moment disrupted by the loud announcer at the starting line, instructing everyone to take their positions.
Amada had grown a lot since the first day I had met him. Even now as he braced himself at the starting line amongst the other boys, he looked like a young man, not a boy in girls clothing. He had this air of confidence around him now, a different kind of happiness, contentedness. While every now and then, he still wore girls' clothes, dressed as his sister, it no longer seemed to come from a place of anxiety or crippling panic like it was before.
I was proud of him.
But the mention of Mr Romano being on school grounds sent a wave of nausea through me at the recall of his little agreement with me. Was this enough 'defeminising' for him? Was a happier Amada enough for him?
My train of thought was interrupted by the pop of the gun, signalling the start of the race.
Amada was good at running. Whereas before it was blatant fleeing, now there was still, there was an elegance to the way he sprinted. From the moment he kicked off there was a sharp focus, a determination I had never seen from him, ever.
It was a focus I could relate to, I could understand, I envied that he was able to feel.
When I cycled, I would gain a kind of tunnel vision, my only focus is the end goal. Everything would slow down, go quiet, every movement, every breath, every blink was a deliberate act that fed into my determination to win.
I witnessed these effects on Amada from the first step. Within seconds, he had already won the race from the start. His feet were quicker, his form was better, and he was in the lead.
Everyone from the dorm rose to their feet in triumph for him, startling almost everyone around us from our sudden enthusiasm.
And it didn't stop at the first race.
Applicants narrowed down as the day went on, the better racers for the 100-meter dash and the 250 sprints became lesser and lesser. Josh had been knocked off after the third round, making me the winner of my bet with Dylan.
Amia didn't mention the sighting of their father whenever she congratulated her brother. She approached him at every finished dash, water bottle in hand, and they shared a silent laugh with each other. Throughout the day, whenever he won a race, everyone would smile as his twin sister ran up to him and embraced him or stared with a form of admiration as she cheered at the top of her lungs for her brother.
After a while, people started to join us in our cheering for Amada. Whether they forgot about the rumours around his name or were too invested in him winning on behalf of the school to care, people aside from the Delinquents and Amia would run up to him and praise him, or cheer for him from the bleachers.
There was excited chatter for him between races, he was surrounded by people talking with him, and he seemed more than happy with the attention.
Amia smiled at my feet, smirking as she ate some more cafeteria treats. "Looks like he's enjoying himself," Amia remarked as some cheerleaders came over and shook their pompoms in his face.
"You okay with it?" I asked.
Amia shrugged, "It's nice he's getting some positive attention for a change. And the meets almost over," she checked her phone, "And there's no sign of Father. Amada might make it through today without incident."
"Don't jinx him," I murmured. My attention was retaken by the cheerleaders, who had set themselves up directly in front of us and started one of their standard routines. Since Mia was short, she had to be front and centre to be seen. With the overlap of cheering girls and guys, I couldn't tell if Mia was talking or just mouthing the cheers, but her movements were as animated as the others.
"Come on, prep! Say it loud! Call out help and say it proud!" Elizabeth called through a megaphone. The cheer made no sense, but it hyped up the White Winter Prep students and parents in the bleachers.
"How many more rounds are there of the 100-meter dash?" Amia asked.
I shrugged, dabbing my forehead with a towel. "I think Amada's in the semifinals now," I informed shading my eyes from the sun, "If he wins this one, he'll be in the finals, and then after that the equivalent of the grand finale. He'll have a shot at first for the whole meet."
"He'll win," Amia said plainly as she looked back to the now worn through track.
I had been knocked out of the running to win anything earlier in the day, not from lack of trying, but I was not made for long-distance running. At all.
I got the equivalent of a participant medal.
"More then I would ever get," Alexis remarked when I let her hold it. "I mean, I can run from one place to the other, but never in a straight line. I'd freak too many people out."
"Sure, babe." I plucked the medal from her hands and placed it around her neck to hold since she seemed fonder of it than me. Really showing my arrogance here, I had badges of greater achievement, third place or higher, I wasn't interested in keeping or maintaining the participant medal.
Mia jogged over to us, her face flushed as she gently panted, her pompoms hung from her hands. "You good, kid?" Bonnie asked, "I've seen you get tossed quite a bit today. Spent more time in the air than on the ground."
Mia smiled and assured her she was fine.
"You're like a backwards bird," Estelle stated, "Curse you gravity for crushing little Mia's dreams!" We all shared a chuckle as the man's voice droned that the finals for the 100-meter dash needed to ready themselves.
"Oh! Shut up, that's our race!" Estelle snapped hitting my arm.
I frowned, "I wasn't saying anything."
"Shh!"
"He's not even running yet."
"Hush!"
Amada scanned the crowds at the starting line, checking the faces in the bleachers. His eyes eventually found us, and he flashed a smile as he waved. Amia, sitting at my feet, waved back, while Estelle, Ava, and Robyn were on their feet cheering and calling out his name. Bonnie offered a smile and a small wave.
After a few moments, he took his place at the starting line, either side of him were slightly taller, more built runners from nearby schools. Out of the whole line-up, there were only two other White Winter Prep kids.
"Go Amada!" his sister called.
"On your marks! Get set!" The gun went off, and the racers were off. Despite the larger size of the runners beside him, Amada managed to make his way through them and sprint ahead, able to get an entire meter and a half of a lead when he crossed the line in first place.
The crowd stood up and cheered as the runners all sat down at the finish line to catch their breaths, Amada's face was bright red.
We all got up from the bleachers and raced for him, Amia throwing herself on him in a hug and knocking the two of them to the ground. "You did it! You're in the last race!" she exclaimed.
Amada laughed as he sat up, Amia sitting on her own as everyone else came over. We all shared a good job and gave him a pat on the back, Dylan pulling him to his feet to shake his hand. "Good job, brother."
Amada nodded, "Thanks."
"Hey!" someone called, pushing their way to the front. Amada stood his ground at the sight of Ashely, who was on the girls' track team and had been adamant in proving he was a crossdresser. Despite this, Amada lifted his chin as she said, "Good job, squirt."
At the praise, Amada dropped his chin and smiled, "Thanks, Ashley."
She reached her hand out, and the two of them shook on his accomplishment.
"Truthfully though, I feel like this is my last win," he confessed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.
"Hey, don't talk like that," Amia demanded.
He shrugged, "It's true." He gestured to some of the other athletes stretching out. "I ran for dear life on that last one. And I've seen those guys running throughout the day. I can't compete with that!"
"You'll never know until you run, buddy," I informed.
Amada crossed his arms, his cheeks flushing from embarrassment now. "I just don't want to disappoint anyone. I mean, look at all that," he gestured to the people around him and the ones who were cheering for him, "these people are all watching me, thinking I can win this thing." He cleared his throat and said through his teeth, "But it's hard as hell to run fast!"
"Amada-" his sister started.
"May I?" Bonnie chimed in, rolling beside him.
Amia put her hands up in surrender, letting Bonnie take the reins in convincing her brother.
I had expected some tough love, maybe a stubbornness related haggling or perhaps a playful insult she always gave him. But instead, there was a very different approach.
"Come here," she gestured for him come closer, so she could whisper something to him. He frowned as he obeyed, leaning over as she put a hand to his ear, so no one could guess what she was telling him. Her whispers were indistinct, but whatever she was saying slowly made his eyes widen and blink as if surprised.
When he pulled away, he cleared his throat, forcing his voice to be deeper then I knew it was. "Really?"
Bonnie nodded, and replied sweetly, "Yep."
Amada groaned as he pressed his hands against his face, covering as much of it as possible with his hands, eventually dropping them and saying, "Yeah, you're right. I got this."
Confused but happy, we all whooped for him.
"What did you say to him?" I asked, Bonnie's posture straightening.
"None of your business is what," she snapped.
There's the snappy Bonnie I had come to know.
Before anyone else could try to pester Bonnie, Estelle came forward, holding the tiara in her hands. "Just in case you have any more doubts," she presented the crown to him with a wide grin, "I'm going to give you your first-place prize now."
Amada blinked, "Wait. Why am I getting a tiara?" he asked, a chuckle hitched in his voice.
Estelle frowned, "What? You don't like it? You won it at the carnival."
Amada took the tiara from her, "Oh no, I love it. I just forgot why I was getting one. But if that's the case, what took you so long?" he teasingly snapped.
Estelle rolled her eyes, "Ha, Ha. Let's see what it looks like!" She snatched it back and went to crown him, but he tried to flee her attempts.
"I don't need to wear that now!" he exclaimed.
"You are a fabulous princess, and you must be presented like so!" she snapped continuing and failing to crown him as he stumbled around as he dodged. Soon, everyone was involved in trying to crown him, the Delinquents eventually dog-piling him so he couldn't escape as they forced him to his feet and Estelle stated in a proper voice, "I hereby crown thee, Amada Romano, unofficial Princess of the Track Fields!" She placed the tiara on his head, the moment the silver touched his head Amada accepted the crown.
"See? You enjoy the power of the tiara!" Estelle cooed.
Amada sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood on his own and readjusted his crown. "My Lady," he replied, feinting a curtsy.
The act of wearing a tiara made everyone laugh, a particularly bubbly one coming from Mia as she clapped her pompoms.
"You look great, kid," I said.
He made an exaggerated hair flip motion, "Of course I am."
"Come on, let's get a photo," Ava sign and said as she pulled out her phone, "Because once you wipe the floor with everyone, we're all gonna be too busy cheering and celebrating for pictures then. So, bring it in everybody!" Robyn produced a selfie stick and attached Ava's phone to it, stretching it out so it could capture everyone in the photo.
We all put on smiles and leaned in close, trying to keep our balance and barely managing to stay on our feet long enough to get a good picture.
In some of the last shots, I could see Amada's attention drift to the side and his smile fade. When Ava pulled down the selfie stick and started flicking through the thirty plus options she had managed to capture with Robyn and Estelle, I turned to Amada, whose eyes stared full and fearful at something between the bleachers.
Amia noticed this too and stood next to him as he took off his tiara slowly. "Hey bro, what..." Her face dropped to a similar expression at the sight of what they saw.
Concerned, I walked behind them and looked where they looked, watching as Mr Romano stared at his children with arms crossed and a dour expression. When he was sure the twins had seen him, he visibly shook his head in disappointment, turned around and hopped into a black SUV, the men he was with closing the door behind him and promptly entering the car themselves.
At the sight of this, Amia stood in front of Amada, blocking his view from their Father as she frantically tried to say without crying herself, "Hey, forget about him. He hasn't been here all day." She held her brother's face in her hands, his eyes refusing to meet hers as he tried not to cry. "He's just here to try and psyche you out! You've got one more race to go, don't let him get in your head, he's not worth it."
Amada pressed his lips together, blinking profusely, "He saw me in the tiara, Amia…" he murmured. Amada pulled his face from her hands, throwing the tiara on the ground and stomping away to the waiting bay for the next race.
The other girls jumped at this action, unaware of what transpired. "Hey, what happened?" Estelle said, clearly offended as she picked up the tiara and wiped grass off the jewels.
Amia bit the inside of her cheek, looking back to where her Father had just been standing. "Amada saw a ghost," she spat as she crossed her arms and marched back to the bleachers.
Estelle blinked, turning to me for an answer. The sight of Mr Romano made my heart slow. Amada looked really shook up at the sight of the man, but a strange panic promptly filled me when the tiara partially blinded me in the afternoon light. "Their Dad saw Amada in a tiara, and he left."
Estelle's expression turned sour. "What? Why?"
I shook my head, "Mr Romano doesn't seem to be a very feminine person."
Estelle's fingers poked at the jewels as she shrugged, "Isn't this tiara for Amia anyway?"
I sighed as I shrugged, "I don't think that matters at this point."
The announcing man's voice called out over the speakers, declaring it was the final race for the 100 meters. It was Amada's last race.
"Come on, let's get to our seats, give him some support." The girls all walked back to our seats, Estelle clutching the crown.
As everyone started bracing themselves at the starting line. I frowned at the sight of Amada, something different in his demeanour than before. He hung his head lower, and even from a distance, I could see his arms shaking. My eyes locked on him, everything from the cheerleader's cheer routine to the sound of distant whistle blows slowing down until my heartbeat throbbed and my skin started tingling.
I had that sickly feeling that told me something horrible was going to happen.
Amia seemed in a similar state, tucking her legs to her chest and nibbling on her thumbnails.
The gun went off, and the runners began their sprint. Amada started off wobbly, falling behind almost immediately before regaining his footing and managing to keep pace with the others. But just as he seemed okay, he tripped, whether on some pebble, or his laces, or his own feet, he crashed onto the track, almost knocking one of the other athletes over.
The crash was so sudden and aggressive, the cheerleaders' chants fell silent in exchange for gasps and frightened gestures. People in the bleachers, from all schools and ages, reacted similarly. Some standing, some murmuring to one another in worry.
What was worse was Amada didn't get up. He had braced himself, but his arms gave out immediately, and his whole right side and face hit the ground.