Chapter Text
A loud beep sounded and we instantly started moving again. A group of around six big and sweaty teenagers huddle around the two ergo machines the school purchased almost three decades ago. Sure, they were old, rusty and outdated but we were lucky to have what we got.
“Fuckin’ hell TJ,” the big redhead, Scott - his given name, next to me calls out. “Off your game today?” he laughs in between breaths. I just push harder in response, mumbling a short ‘shut up Gibbo’, quickly over-taking him once again.
The booming music is temporarily dimmed, a piercing beep interrupting it. I roll off the machine, falling onto my hum as the next bloke jumps on after me. My breaths are inconsistent and heavy while I lie back on the tattered foam mat, closing my eyes for just a moment before my peace is broken. A sharp jab in my side. “Jordan. Are you okay?” a little blonde year 10 asks me shyly, extending a hand.
Taking his hand, Tom swoops me up to my feet the best he can and hands me a bottle of gatorade. I chuckle lightly, quickly downing a few good mouthfuls. Gibbo pushes past the boy, shoving him a little too hard for comfort. Gibbo is far bigger than Tom, which isn’t a high bar to jump over, but one shove from the muscular ranga can send the little man flying.
“We’re up again in a minute,
mate
.” he drawls out that last word, now shoving
my
shoulder. Silently wincing at the abrupt pain that courses through my bones, Gibbo tilts his head at me.
Shit
.
“You good?” he says, an underlying mocking tone present.
“Yeah, yeah.” I reply, running a hand through my short, black hair. “I think my Bursitis is flaring up again. We have been training pretty hard for the boat race.” Gibbo laughs at this, a sly grin spreading across his face.
“If you’re not gonna be good enough to row, maybe you shouldn’t be captain, eh?” he jokes, at least I hope he is. Gibbo grabs me in a headlock, despite being shorter than me, and whispers in my ear using a snarky tone. “Boat race isn’t far, get your shit together.”
I know very well the boat race isn’t far. It’s all anyone on the team has been talking about for weeks. It’s pretty much the whole reason my shoulder is fucked up the way that it is - from training too hard for this race.
That annoying sound beeps once again, signalling for me and Gibbo to jump on the rowing machines next. Quickly setting up my form, I push off and quickly gain the lead - as per usual. I can feel my body heating up quickly, and my muscles begin to ache. I just brush it off as typical exercise pain, it probably is.
We keep rowing, pushing each other to our limits. Gibbo is somehow close behind me, the speed and distance on his screen almost matching mine.
I push even harder, definitely testing my limits. Deep breathing fills my ears, I can’t hear anything else, not even the blaring music that fills the gym. Repetition and repetition, I feel my shoulder tightening. All feeling in my left arm gone aside from the tension and pain in my shoulder. Fuck .
I stop suddenly and grip my shoulder, keeling over into my lap, lightly massaging it. Gibbo is still training hard, not even taking his eyes off the screen.
“I can’t…” I breathe out ” I need a break” I immediately stand up from the machine, trying not to wobble and fall over as I do. Walking as fast as I could to the door of the gym, reaching for my phone. My thoughts were racing a mile a minute and running on empty simultaneously. I call out to my buddy Horse - his nickname of course, I don’t even remember how it started, “Keep the training going, I’ll be back.”
I won’t be back. I call my mum, hoping - praying she picks up. She does on the ring.
“Hi my baby. Is something happening?” I hear her calming, motherly tone through the tinny speaker of the phone instantly putting my mind to ease.
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Sitting at the dinner table that night, I keep my movements slow to avoid any further damage. I absolutely need my shoulder to be feeling perfect for the boat race if we have any hope of beating St Thomas Secondary College this year. The team has been working so hard and I can’t let them down.
“Mum, I’m going to book an appointment with the OT for tomorrow. I’ll be a little late for dinner.” She hums in acknowledgement, returning to her rice and curry - made especially spicy. Dad stews over his plate, glass of Zymil full cream milk in hand. Mum has been working for twenty or so years to build his spice tolerance, he’s getting better but still isn’t all the way there yet.
“You think you’re gonna be good for the boat race?” He asks, putting his glass back down on the coaster and picking up his spoon once again.
I nod, quickly swallowing my mouthful of food before speaking again. “I hope so.” I say, looking up at his eyes - which are filled with the concern one has for their child. “I might have to take a break or at least cut down a little, though. Don’t want to overwork it too much.” Since I arrived home and iced it, my shoulder seems to have settled. Only a small ache is there now but it’s still not 100%.
“You know what’s best for you.” he replies, once again sipping milk between bites. “Just don’t forget about your year 12 exams. You know the kind of ATAR you need to get into Melbourne Uni. Especially if you want that scholarship.” Yes dad, I am well aware.
Mum quietly got up from her seat, collecting the finished dishes and bringing them into the kitchen. Dad followed her with the empty glasses from the table. I entered the kitchen and started running the sink, putting some Fairy dishwashing liquid in the water stream.
Me and my dad tower over my mother, I clearly know where I get my height from. Dad is a typical Aussie bloke. Tall, balding head - probably a mullet back in the day - and a scruffy beard sprouting some greys. On the opposite side of the spectrum, Mum's the stereotypical petite, beautiful and polite Asian woman. I can definitively say I got the best genetics from both of them.
After cleaning up the kitchen, my parents head into the lounge room to watch the most recent episode of ‘Farmer Wants A Wife’ - some reality TV dating show where a bunch of women try to woo a countryman, whilst I head back up to my room to finish off some homework.