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are we working on?”
      "Latin test on Monday. We're quizzing each other on verb conjugations," Troy began. He went into some other details, but Reyna found it hard to focus on his words. Her thoughts were back on the Fall Ball. She wondered who she would go with. She nearly jumped out of her skin when an image of Scott popped into her mind. They had never gone to a school dance together before. She shook off the thought and tried to concentrate on Latin verbs.
    ***
    I awoke to pounding on my door at five in the morning. I didn't even have to guess who it was.
    "All right, rise and shine," Sam said as she opened the blinds. A pretty pointless gesture since it was still dark outside. "Pee in the cup and meet me in the weight room in ten minutes."
    It didn't even occur to me to protest. It would do no good to tell Sam I wasn't in the mood or too tired to work out. And heaven forbid I tell my mother I was in pain and had been in pain one way or another for several months. I dreaded that day and hoped it would never come. Deep inside me, I hoped that this pain was a phase like a growing pain and that it would just go away with time. I would go off to a top school, get drafted into the NFL or MLB, and maybe win her a gold medal in something or another. Everything would go back to normal. Sam and I had a plan.
    I stumbled into my bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I wished I could say I had gotten at least three hours of sleep, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking of Reyna. I should have just called her. Why didn't I call her? She was my best friend. I talked to her about everything that bothered me. But this time, she was what bothered me. Why couldn't she see that we would be a perfect couple? At least as long as Sam never found out.
    I did a mental evaluation of my body. Surprisingly, nothing ached or tingled. Maybe I could make it through the day after all. Maybe I was already on my way to recovery. Yeah, everything was going back to normal already.
    After dressing in my Charleston Prep sweats, I found the jar of fresh urine my little brother had left for me. I tried to ignore how odd it was that I had to have my little brother pee in a jar for random drug tests administered by my mother, but I was pretty sure that no other teenager in the world had to go through this.
    "And Lawrence of all people," Sam was saying as she flipped through her notes from last night's game. "Why would you let Lawrence get the touch down? Why not Harry or Ben or Andrew?"
    "What's wrong with Lawrence?" I said, letting the weight bar clank back into position and staring at my mother.
    "Black football players don't need any extra help. They have genetic advantages. You should've let Harry, Ben or Andrew gain some extra yards."
    "Genetic advantages?"
    "Yeah, they were made to run. It's a scientific fact that they have more muscle tone than their white competitors. That's why you and I have to work even harder to compete with them."
    I resumed my bench press and tried to block out my mother's ridiculous nonsensical tirade.
    "That's why I could never beat them when I was competing. They are taking over the world of sports. Look at track, football and basketball. Watching those sports is like taking a trip to the ghetto or a prison. And baseball isn't much better. I swear they need to make it an English only sport."
    "Mom, I don't wanna hear this, okay?" I said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t like Sam had never voiced her opinions on these matters before, it's just that usually I was able to ignore her. Today for some reason she really annoyed me.
    "Well, you need to hear it. If it were up to me, sports would be segregated so that we can have a fighting chance. But it's not, so you need to know what you're up against. You have to play smarter than them since it's nearly impossible to be faster or stronger than they are. Marathons and Triathlons are the only place I have a chance anymore.  Black registration is down twelve percent for the