Luna
Oh, kill me now!
I can't move. Those legs, which men and women both equally gawk on to see on stage, now are hurting like a b***h.
Oh, poor me! There is no way I can finish this task. This is too much. That blacky Wolfy is too much for me.
He seems to have some grudges against me. What can it be? I can't remember if I have ever met him, except for the time in that airport, where he creeps the hell out of me. I hear footsteps coming toward me. It has to be the coach.
"Get up now!"
He snaps, standing before my legs. His burning eyes remind me of the flames of the hot lava of a volcano.
"I can't,"
I moan painfully. I am a sweaty mess. The sun is over my head. I raise my hand, shield my eyes from it.
"You haven't even finished your twelve laps before you start with push-up
