Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.
Training
The next day, the brutal alarm that Lolo set for Abby, herself, and I woke us up at the ungodly hour of six o'clock. Usually, I was a good morning person but today not really because of the horrible six hour time change. Still, I got out of bed eventually.
"Good morning." I mumbled to my roommates.
"Morning." Abby said. Lolo grumbled something incoherent.
I kneeled down to my suitcases and pulled out some clothes, walking into the bathroom I got ready quickly; brushing my teeth, putting on my clothes, and brushing my hair before I hurried out of the bathroom - knowing how Lolo got in the morning. It wasn't pretty.
Walking into the kitchen, my stomach grumbling, I saw my other suit-mates; Marti Malloy - A Judo woman, Courtney Mathewson - Water Polo, and Allyson Felix - a sprinter- they were all still asleep in bed. Allyson's alarm went off and she bolted up right.
"Allyson." I whispered trying not to wake the others in the room, "It's just your alarm."
She blinked and turned to me, before shutting off her vibrating alarm, "Thanks." She mumbled.
"You're welcome," I said softly, "Good morning."
"Good morning to you too." Allyson smiled, stretching and getting out of bed. Smiling back, I turned and walked towards the kitchen. I liked Allyson, and deeply respected her because of how well she ran and how sweet she was... unlike some other people on the track and field team.
I made myself some French toast, savoring the delicious taste before I had to go run lap after lap on the track. Last night, Mrs. Malloy, Marti's mom, brought a lot of food and ingredients over for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I knew that I would love the Malloy family, after that moment.
After Lolo finished eating, we said our goodbyes to Abby and the rest of them (Allyson was due later that's why we weren't walking with her) and headed down to the gym.
The gym was more like an elite training superhero facility, because it was this huge room in the hotel with treadmill after treadmill, row after row. And then exercise bikes, ellipticals, bench press, exercise balls, and many more just row after row of every machine.
Coach Jeff Morgan was seated on a bench press, we walked over.
"Good morning." Jeff started, "I hope you two rested well because today we will start your training. Lolo, I want you to bench press. Clary," He pointed behind me to a large glass containment, inside was a medium sized track, "Five laps around that will give you one mile. I want you to do six miles. Keep in mind that I will be timing you and your best time so far is," He glanced at the green clipboard he always carried around, "forty-seven minutes. I would like for you to break forty-five."
I nodded getting a large water bottle, that they conveniently sold at the front of the gym, and walked into the glass containment that two other track members I didn't know were already using. I found a starting spot and waited for Jeff to start the time.
Jeff walked to the edge of the glass and did a countdown, then he pointed at me, pushed a button on his stopwatch and I started to run.
Everyone always asks me what I think about when I run laps, and the truth is I just get one song stuck in my head and just sing that until I'm done. It helps past the time, especially when I'm running such a great distance as six miles. (Song is Relient K: Be my escape. I don't own it)
I've given up on giving up slowly, I'm blending in so you won't even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate.
Lap two, lap three...
This one last bullet you mention is my one last shot at redemption because I know to live you must give your life away
Lap four, lap five... five miles to go
And I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity and I've been locked inside that house all the while You hold the key And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me
Lap seven, lap eight...
And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go, promise I'm going because I gotta get out of here I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake I gotta get out of here And I'm begging You, I'm begging You, I'm begging You to be my escape.
Lap nine, lap ten... four miles to go
I'm giving up on doing this alone now Cause I've failed and I'm ready to be shown how He's told me the way and I'm trying to get there And this life sentence that I'm serving I admit that I'm every bit deserving But the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair
Lap eleven, lap twelve...
Cause I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity and I've been locked inside that house all the while You hold the key And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me
Lap thirteen, lap fourteen, lap fifteen... three miles to go. Still running, I motioned to Jeff that I had three miles left.
And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go, promise I'm going because
I gotta get out of here Cause I'm afraid that this complacency is something I can't shake I gotta get out of here And I'm begging You, I'm begging You, I'm begging You to be my escape
Lap seventeen, lap eighteen...
I am a hostage to my own humanity self detained and forced to live in this mess I've made
Lap nineteen, lap twenty... two miles
And all I'm asking is for You to do what You can with me but I can't ask You to give what You already gave
Lap twenty-one, lap twenty-two...
Cause I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity and I've been locked inside that house all the while you hold the key and I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me and even though, there's no way in knowing where to go, promise I'm going because
Lap twenty-three, lap twenty-four, lap twenty-five... only one mile left. Again, I motioned to Jeff and he walked up to the glass, waiting for me to get finished.
I've gotta get out of here I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake
I've gotta get out of here and I'm begging You, I'm begging You, I'm begging you to be my escape.
Lap twenty-six, lap twenty-seven...
I fought You for so long I should have let You in. Oh how we regret those things we do and all I was trying to do was save my own skin but so were You
Lap twenty-eight, lap twenty-nine...
So were You
Lap thirty. Once I crossed the line I started on, I stopped and tried to catch my breath as I drank all of my water bottle.
After my breathing had gotten slower, and less embarrassing, I walked out to a smiling Jeff Morgan.
"Forty-five minutes and twenty-three seconds!" He yelled, hugging me tightly.
"Really?" I asked, shocked. Jeff showed me the stopwatch, sure enough the black numbers read 45:23, "Wow!"
"Great job, kid. I'm so proud." He smiled brightly.
"Thanks, Coach."
"You're welcome, why don't you go sit down for a minute and then you can continue training?" He patted my shoulder. I thanked him once again and walked over to a bench, taking a seat after I bought another water bottle.
Leaning my head back against the back of the bench, I closed my eyes and tried to calm my heartbeat.
"Excuse me?" A sweet voice asked beside me. I opened my eyes and saw a short busty but skinny woman with brown hair and eyes. I didn't know this woman, but she looked familiar somehow.
"Yes?" I asked, smiling at the nervous woman.
"How many laps did you just run?"
I glanced back at the track, "Thirty. It's six miles."
"Honey," The woman gasped, "I'm sorry I just saw you running lap after lap in there and I couldn't help but ask. How long did you run?"
Something about this woman made me want to tell her, "Forty-five minutes, it's actually my best time for six miles."
"Forty-five minutes, honey, I can't even run one mile in forty-five minutes! Congratulations." She touched my shoulder like a proud mother. Which made me think; how was she in here? I thought parents weren't allowed in this hotel. I decided that asking her would be rude of me, at least for the first meeting.
"Thank you, ma'am." I replied respectively.
"Don't call me ma'am, honey, it makes me feel old," The woman shook her head, "My name is Debroah. Debbie Phelps."
Debbie Phelps. As in? No way! This could not be Michael Phelps's mother. But, could it? She did look familiar.
"What is your sport?" Debbie asked after my silence had become awkward. I couldn't help it though, I was in awe.
"Hurdles." Again I expected the look that said 'that is ridiculous that will never happen', but this time it never came.
"Wow." She nodded, "Which events of Hurldes are you in, dear?"
"100m Hurdles, 800m Hurdles, 400m Hurdles, and the USA relay race." I replied, counting them off. (A/N: Yes, I did just make up some Hurdle races.)
"Is that all of them?"
"No, I didn't qualify for the 200 meter hurdles." I said awkwardly.
"Oh, well four events is still great, honey." I muttered a thank you to her praise, "When do your events start?"
"Monday." I said, "Monday is the 100m, 400m, and 800m all for medals. The relay race is Wednesday."
"Good luck. I'll be in the audience."
"Thank you, Ms. Phelps." I thanked her and hugged her.
"You're welcome, miss?"
"Clary Fray."
"That's a beautiful name," Debbie complemented then her eyes went down to my un-covered leg and I knew exactly what she was looking at, "Honey, do you mind if I ask what that is?"
I glanced down at the oval shaped, foot and a half long stitches, "I was bitten by a shark when I was eleven."
Her mouth fell open in an audible gasp, "What... What happened?"
"I was swimming in the ocean with my step-dad and-"
She cut me off, "Don't. You don't have to tell me anymore. You are visibly shaking, are you okay?"
"Mom," A tall woman with long brown hair and brown eyes walked up before I could answer, "Don't annoy the athletes. They are trying to train."
"But, I-" Debbie started.
"She wasn't, don't worry." I smiled at Debbie and the new girl. "I should get back to training though, my coach will be angry if he sees me talking instead of resting."
"Yes, of course." Debbie hugged me once again, "Clary, I will see you on Monday. Just remember, if you hear a high-pitch squeal-"
"That will be you?" I asked.
She nodded, "That will be me. Well, me or your mother I suppose."
"Yes, she'll give you some compitision. Thank you, Ms. Phelps. I hope to see you soon." I smiled at the two women before walking back over to Jeff and getting my next instructions. I noticed Lolo was now doing the six mile run.
Jeff frowned at me, "When I say rest, I mean rest for a few minutes. Not ten."
"I know. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."
"Yes it will." Jeff smiled, I grinned back; he knew me to well, "Come on then, get on the bench press."
My grin faded as I lay down under the metal bars with multiple circular weights on them and I began to train once more.
Once our training ended, Lolo and I met a few other Olympians such as; Missy Franklin, happiest girl ever and so sweet, Jessica Ennis, our competitor in Hurdles whose confidence scared me, and Kellie Wells.
Kellie and Lolo and I had a past, we were just known to not like each other. We had all said thing to one another that made us not friends. And then Carmelita joined Kellie, from being semi-nice, to being full blown out mean. We all tended not to cross each other.
Lolo and I made it to the hotel, and as soon as I stepped through the door of my room to shower, I realized there was a whole stack of new clothing on top of my bed.
"Uh, girls? Why is there all this stuff on my bed?" I asked the two in the living room.
Courtney replied before Marti could, "A huge bag of clothing came to our door after you and Lolo left for training. Some was labeled 'Clary' and the others was labeled 'Lolo', so we assumed it was yours."
I ignored her sarcasm and saw that there was clothes on Lolo's bed too. "Okay... thanks for putting it on my bed."
"No problem. What is it?" Marti asked, getting up and coming into my room behind me.
I looked at the clothing, realizing it was all USA colors. There were track pants, running shorts, my track uniforms and shoes for the races, socks, sweatbands, USA and Olympic shirts, and jackets. A whole lot of jackets.
"Wow, Clare," Marti gasped, "I'm jealous. Who gave you all this stuff?"
There was a note taped on top of the jackets, I pulled it off and read it out loud, "Clary Fray, we saw this morning how great you are on the track and wanted to just say Congratulations for Monday. Hope your stay is going well. Love, The Olympic Family." I sat the letter down on my bedside table and looked at all the clothes, "I don't need all this."
"Look," She held up a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, "They have your name on it."
I looked. Sure enough, 'Fray' was written across the top of the arm sleeve, around the bicep area. "I don't need all of this," I repeated, "Do you want some of it?"
"None of it would fit me," She replied frowning slightly before smiling, "Why don't you give it to your family?"
"Yeah, I probably will. That's a good idea." I nodded. "I'll get a shower and call mom later."
Marti nodded smiling at me before she left the room, taking one of the my sweatbands with her. I grinned at the retreated girl and made my way into the shower.
Sitting down on the bed in a fluffy white towel with my hair wet, I pulled out my phone and called mom.
"Hello?" My mother, Jocelyn Fray answered from the other end.
"Hey, mom." I smiled, hearing my moms voice always calmed me down. Unless she was yelling at me.
"Clary!" Mom yelled, "Luke. Luke! I got her on the phone." She said to my step-father, Luke Garroway. "Clary, I'm going to put you on speaker because we are all in the room."
"Okay." There was a click from mom pressing a button.
"You're now on speaker, honey."
"Hey, everyone."
There was a chorus of hello's in response.
"Clary," That was Isabelle Lightwood, "I miss you! Come visit us, Luke said we weren't allowed to come there!"
"That's what I wanted to talk about," I replied, "Mom, I got all this new free Olympic gear and I wanted to give some to all of you."
"Honey, did you get the stuff you need and want?" Mom asked.
"Yes, I got my track uniforms, my shoes, what to wear on the podium, everything I need and a few extra things I want to keep are separated. But, I still have a huge stack on my bed left."
"Bring it over here!" Isabelle yelled.
"I will." I laughed, "I'll be over there in a few minutes just give me your floor and suite number."
"Floor six, room number fifty." A voice that sounded like Alec Lightwood replied.
"Okay. I'll be over there soon." I replied, hanging up the phone, getting dressed and patting my hair dry lightly, before I separated the clothes I wanted and needed with the ones I didn't and then I was ready to go.
Shoving my phone into my pocket and stacking up the clothes to give away, I picked them up and, with a brief explanation to my roommates, I was off. I walked out of Olympic Village, to to the hotel across the street ignoring the paparazzi on the way I walked into the hotel my family and friends were staying at. I took the stairs up to the sixth floor and after an awkward moment of shifting the clothes to one hand, I knocked.
The door opened almost immediately, and there stood Jace, "Everyone make way, it is the Olympian herself!" Jace announced.
"Funny, how long did it take you to come up with that?" I asked raising my eyebrows.
Jace leant close to me, "Hours."
"Good for you," I side stepped him and walked into the hotel room, "I have Olympic gear for everyone."
"Clary," Jace tsked from behind me, "You know the only thing you don't want from me is for me to wear more clothing."
I rolled my eyes about to ask where everyone was when mom, Luke, Isabelle, Maryse, Robert, Max, and Alec all emerged from a room in the house. They all hugged me as I sat down the clothes. Isabelle dove in to the clothes, throwing the ones she didn't want around the room.
"Clary, I love your shirt!" She gushed, probably trying to find an exact copy in the stack. I glanced down at my red long sleeved shirt.
"I think there is one in blue in there." I replied pointing to the stack. Isabelle found it and thanked me repeatedly. I laughed, "You're welcome."
"I'm going to go try it on. Oh! And this!" She said, grabbing a jacket as well. Then, she ran into a room.
"Clary," A small voice said. I turned and saw that it was Max, "Is there anything for me in there?" He asked hopefully.
I scooped him up and placed him in my lap before grabbing a male looking small shirt, "Sure, Max. Do you like this shirt?"
He examined the red shirt with the Olympic rings on them, "Yes."
"Max," Maryse said, "What do you say to Clary?"
Max hugged me around the neck, "Thank you, Clary. I like it a lot."
"You're welcome." I said, hugging him back.
"Do you want to know a secret?" The nine-year-old asked, whispering in my ear.
"Sure."
"I think you're going to win your races! All of them!" He replied excitedly.
I laughed again, "Thank you, Max. I hope I do."
"You will," Max nodded letting go of my neck and looking at me, "You have to. You've only train a million times a day."
"That's right," I grinned, "I do train a million times a day."
"Yep." Max jumped off my lap, clutching the shirt to his chest. He walked back over to his father, showing the Olympics shirt to him.
"How was training today, baby?" Mom asked me.
"Mom, I ran six miles in forty-five minutes, that's my best time." I smiled.
"Great job!" Mom smiled and hugged me.
"Oh, also I met Michael Phelps's mom, Debbie. And my other competitors and-"
"You met Michael Phelps?" Isabelle screeched running back into the room in only a tank-top.
"No, I met his mom." I replied slowly.
"Damn," Isabelle shook her head, "I would love to meet that sexy swimmer."
"Isabelle! Language!" Maryse said, covering Max's ears. Max pushed away from his mother.
"Yeah, Isabelle," Jace started, "everyone knows I'm more sexy than a swimmer."
"Shut up, Jace."
"Clary," Jace talked anyway, "You were on television today."
"Oh! Honey, you were! I recorded it!" Mom sprung up and ran into what I guessed to be a bedroom. Isabelle went back to her room to change, Luke followed mom, and some way or another I was left in a room alone with Jace. Who was staring at me.
To prevent my blush, I started to pick up the clothes that they didn't want; which was only a pair of sweatpants, hair-ties, and a shirt. When I sat back down on the couch, Jace had scooted over until he was right there, our knees and shoulders touching even though there was room left on the couch.
Jace suddenly stuck his hand out grasped mine. Whenever he touched me; whether it was a bump in a school hallway or a hand in comfort- there was an electric shock, that ran up my veins into my heart. Which started to hammer in my chest, and I knew I was blushing from the way he was looking at me.
"Do you feel that?" He asked, eyes pointing down to our joined hands.
I was motionless, the heat of his body, his hand touching mine, his golden stare watching me so... lovingly. I was motionless.
"That shock," Jace said when I didn't respond, "Do you feel that?"
I nodded, still unable to talk.
"Do you know what that means?" Jace shook his head, as if to tell me not to answer that, then he continued, "I've wanted to tell you something, Clary. I have wanted to tell you this since the moment I met you, but I haven't found the words until now. Clary," He stroked my cheek lightly leaving a fiery path in its wake, "ever since I've met you, I've belong to you completely. I-"
"Jace," I whispered finding my voice and putting a finger over his lips, "I think I know what you are going to say," and even though I have been dying to hear it, "but please don't."
He removed the hand gently, placing my hand on his cheek and leaning into it. The gaze in his eyes was dreamlike, "Why not?"
I took a deep breath, "I don't want a boyfriend. Not now at least. I want to keep my mind clear and focused until my races are over with."
"That's Jeff speaking, not you." Jace whispered, our faces were now less than a foot apart and I was having trouble thinking.
"He's right, Jace," I said, "These are the Olympics."
"I know," Jace laughed lightly, "You are my Olympian."
"Jace," I pushed him away and let go of his hand so I could think correctly, "I want this too. I've wanted this for a long time, but not now."
Before Jace could answer, mom walked back in; a clear DVD in her hand. I stood up from the couch, glancing back at Jace's bored mask, and sat down on a seat away from him.
Mom put the disk into the box under the television and it started to play, "Clary Fray. The pretty," I heard Jace scoff and it broke my heart, "little Hurdler from Brooklyn, New York has all the odds against her." The documentary stopped for a second to play music and introduce the cast of the news show then it began again, "What do you see when you see this girl?" A video of me running flashed across the screen, "Greatness? Determination? No. This sixteen year old girl is five-foot-two and is an Olympian. Clary is under five inches of the usual height of a Hurdler and only four inches tall than the actual Hurdler-" On screen showed a picture of Lolo and I.
"I don't want to watch anymore." I said, speaking over the television so I didn't have to hear it.
"Clary, it's bad at first but it gets better." Mom tried to explain.
"Mom," I shook my head, "All these comments are going to get in my head. I can't have more things in my head while I'm trying to represent my country." I glanced at Jace for that comment. "I'm not watching anymore of it."
Mom shut off the television, "Okay. You can watch it a different time." By the tone of her voice I could tell she was mad at me. I didn't want to deal with everyones emotions, not today.
After that, I hugged everyone and bid my goodbyes. Leaving the clothes I had stacked up and planned to take back before I walked down and over to the Olympic Village. I stepped through the front door, waving to Shelly on my way past and started for the stairs.
"Clary Fray! Hey, are you Clary Fray?" I turned at my name being called. In the Lobby was Shelly, a few janitors, and Michael Phelps. I didn't think any of them knew my name, but the way Michael was waving at me I figured he did. Wait! Michael Phelps. THE Michael Phelps is waving at me! Do something you idiot.
"Hi, Michael." I nodded dumbly in reply, clearing my throat and waving back. He walked up to me. Being right in front of me, I could tell he was more than a foot taller than my five-foot-two frame.
He smiled, "I heard you met my mom."
I laughed lightly, "Yes, she is sweet."
"Yeah, she is. Did you just get back from training?" He asked, pointing to my clothes.
"What?" I looked down at my long sleeved red shirt and training sweatpants, "Oh! No, I had a lot of extra Olympic USA clothes so I just took them to my friends and family." I shrugged.
He nodded looking over my head, "They do that, the Olympic workers give them to the Olympians they feel are going to win." He eyed me.
I grinned, "Well then you should have plenty of clothes." Michael laughed. "By the way, congratulations, for the eight for eight in Beijing."
"Thanks," He smiled widely, "Are you going back to your room?"
I was confused by the question but I nodded, "Yes."
"Why are you taking the stairs?"
"Oh," I blushed looking behind me at the door labeled 'stairwell', "My coach made me swear that I would never use the elevator." I smiled, "'You can train anywhere and everywhere' is what he always says to us."
"Interesting," He nodded, "I'm going back to my room too, can I join you?"
"Uh," I stammered, "Sure, yes." He grinned but said nothing as we made our way through the door. We talked casually as we made our way up the staircases to the fifth floor, my floor, Michael was very nice and down to Earth and not to mention, very handsome.
"So," Michael said as we approached the fourth floor, "Is it true that you were bitten by a shark?"
"It is," I nodded glancing down at my left leg.
"Can I... uh-" Michael cleared his throat.
"Do you want to see it?" I guessed. He nodded.
"If you don't mind."
"Sure," I sat down on a step and pulled up my pant leg to show the stitches on my calf. I shivered looking at it, the stitches were an oval shape that stretched about twelve inches, from my knee to the top of my ankle.
"Wow," Michael whispered sitting down beside me on the stair. He reached a finger out and ran it along my stitches softly, "Do you remember what happened?"
"Very clearly, yes." I said, hoping he didn't look at my face and see the blush that was in my cheeks from the way he was touching me so softly. "I was in the ocean, swimming with a few friends and my mom's best friend, my step-dad now, my mom was on the beach. It was two o'clock in the afternoon and suddenly I heard screaming and a siren, the lifeguard was giving the signal that a shark was in the water. My step-dad, Luke, grabbed onto my wrist and started to pull me to shore when all of a sudden," I shivered remembering that sunny day, "I was yanked out of his grasp and pulled underwater. I remember a lot of pain, so much blood, and a short image of the shark biting me before Luke kicked the shark and pulled me out. I was rushed into surgery, my doctor told my after that if the shark would've bitten my ankle, I would of had to get my foot amputated."
"That's horrible." Michael said, I looked at him. He was looking back at me, his brown eyes sad. "I'm so sorry."
I tried to laugh, "At least it didn't bite my ankle."
"How old were you?" He asked quietly, "And do they know what kind of shark it was?"
"I was eleven," I said, "The doctor told me it was an adult tiger shark, that's why the cut is so big."
"Eleven?" His eyes bugged out slightly, "That's terrible."
"You said that already."
"I felt like it needed to be repeated." He grinned, removing his finger from my leg. I pushed my pant leg back down.
"Yeah well, that's that." I said, standing up.
"We have something in common." Michael said suddenly.
"We do?" I asked dumbfounded.
He nodded, "We both listen to music before we race."
"Oh, really?" Michael nodded again, "It calms me." I blurted out.
"It calms me too, I like to get one song stuck in my head while I swim and just repeat it until the race is over." He said, standing up. I saw the strong muscles in his arms as he pushed himself up.
"That's what I do too." I looked away from his muscles.
"Great, would you like to keep going upstairs now?" Michael asked. I nodded looking back at him as we started to walk up the stairs again, in silence.
"This is my floor." I said as we reached the fifth floor. I turned to him, prepared to say goodbye when I realized he was looking at me strangely. "Michael?"
He blinked, "I'm sorry. I just... You're so easy to talk to. You treat me like a real person and not like some kind of god or something."
I didn't respond, not knowing what to say.
Michael cleared his throat once again, "Can I get your number?"
Was I dreaming? Michael Phelps wanted my number? I realized then that he was staring at me, "Yeah, sure. I don't have my phone with me though."
"No problem, I'll text mine to you later." Michael shrugged, pulling out his phone and passing it to me. I typed in my number and handed it back to him. "Thanks. I guess I'll see you then." We said our goodbyes, and I made my way to my door. I leant against it once I was inside.
"Hey, where have you been?" I jumped at the sound of a voice, thinking everyone would be asleep by now. It was Abby, watching television.
"I was just taking the clothes over to my parents and friends." I replied, walking into our room and finding Lolo on her bed, reading. "Do you have time to talk?"
Lolo looked up, seeing my expression and nodded, "Sure, what's wrong?"
"Michael Phelps just walked me to my door, Jace practically just confessed his love for me, and I was rude to my mom." I gushed, sitting down on her bed.
"Calm down and slow down, Clary. Start from the beginning."
After that I told her everything that had happened after practice, and with a mild freak out from Lolo when Michael texted me, I continued to talk to my best friend.
A/N: Thanks for reading!
