The needle behind the glass swung up slowly and then jerked back again, settling into one spot. I’d gained a whole pound from the day before and was up to 106. But I didn’t feel like I had any more weight to me. Then I passed through the swinging doors, heading toward my locker, when a rider named Samuel cut me off. “My horse breaks from the starting gate right next to yours today, and I want you to know something,” he said with breath that reeked like ammonia. “Don’t get in my way on the track, or I’ll hurt you. I got a family to support. I don’t need to be looking over my shoulder for a bug who can’t control a horse.” I stepped back, nearly gagging from his breath. I could almost see his tongue pushing through his paper-thin teeth. “You see these fingers? I’ve broken every one,” Samuel kept on, with his anger building and his voice getting louder. “Broke my right kneecap, ribs, elbows—both of them. And the point of this collarbone was sticking through the skin one time a quarter of an inch.
