It turns out that the Zeroes and Ones don’t share all the classes. Around four in the evening, even though we are all dead on our feet, we still have to go to two more classes. What makes it worse is that they are outdoor classes.
Beth is clearly not used to so much physical exertion because by the time we are done trekking through the forest, I’m hauling her. She can’t even walk, and when the last class ends, she has tears in her eyes as she takes off her shoes, sitting on a bench.
I see the painful-looking blisters and murmur, “There’s a cream in my bag. When you get back, first soak your feet, then apply the cream to your blisters. They’ll feel better.”
“How am I supposed to walk tomorrow?” she sobs, and my heart clenches at the way her voice breaks.
Fortunately, the instructor for
