My legs shook after just a few hockey stops in my isolated corner. I’d earned those shakes fair and square after pushing so hard at tryouts, but I still wanted to beat my thighs with my fists and tell them to get with the program already. But it wouldn’t do me any good to drive myself into unconsciousness again. I forced myself to work on quality, not quantity; at least my technique was good. Ruthanasia scowled every time she happened to look in my direction, but I didn’t care. The skeptical looks the rest of the team kept shooting me really bothered me, though. “Do people hate me for being here?” I asked during one water break, when Ragnarocker rolled past. She frowned thoughtfully, wiping sweat from her forehead. “What makes you say that?” “I’m getting a lot of glares from the masses.” “Ah.” She shrugged. “Some of the girls think you’re getting special treatment because of whatever you’ve got going with Michael.” I swallowed the irate retort that rose immediately to my lips.
