Athletic Endeavors


It would be untrue to say that Faith's triceps were screaming. That would imply that they were awake, rather than slogging their way through the motions of the morning conditioning session along with the rest of her body. Six o'clock was obscene.

Faith clanked her kettlebell back onto the rack and surveyed the varsity weight room at the Stuart Memorial Athletic Complex. Her teammates were hyping one another through bench presses and crunches, most of them looking annoyingly spritely. One of the sophomores was even laughing with the conditioning trainer. Wanting coffee — lots — Faith dragged herself over to the leg press machine. She'd done legs yesterday, but the prospect of pushing against some solid resistance appealed to her. It would help concentrate her attention, at least. She set the weights and lowered herself into the seat, gripping the handles and exhaling as she pushed.

One. Ok, focus. Two. Schedule for the day. Three. Conditioning. Four. Morning Prayers. Five. O-Chem lecture. Six. Psych quiz. Seven. Kitchen prep shift. Eight. Basketball practice. Nine. Food at some point. Ten!

"Is this some sort of cry for help?"

Faith squinted up against the lights to find Ariana smirking down with her arms crossed over a sweat-stained Redmond t-shirt — one of the retro ones with the old Redstockings logo. Ari was shaking her head fondly, on the edge of laughter as she looked Faith up and down.

"What?" Faith demanded.

Ari gestured toward the stack of plates Faith was lifting. "Are you trying to tell us something by overloading your ankle on purpose?"

It was true — Faith had automatically set the machine at her old standard, rather than the gentler weight she had adopted during her recovery. But the ankle felt perfectly fine! She hadn't even noticed.

Faith stuck out her tongue at a laughing Ari. "Yeah, I'm telling you I'm back," she said. "One hundred percent."

"What's that, like, half-speed?"

Faith grinned, but did not protest when Ari stayed to spot her. It was impossible to drowse with Ari egging her on, cajoling here, praising there, until Faith was fully awake and flying through her sets. The muscles of her calves were firm and sharp-edged as she pressed the plates, her ankle never wavering. Not even a twinge! Ari and Faith swapped places and Faith returned the favor, talking Ari up as she pressed far more weight than Faith could ever hope to manage.

"Show-off," Faith grinned as Ari hopped off the machine, earning herself an affectionate swat.

The bench press was next. Ari loaded the bar with enough plates that Faith winced.

"You don't have to lift this," Ari said.

"I'll give it a go."

Ari drew herself up to her impressive height and rested her hands on her hips. She had a good seven or eight inches on Faith and at least forty pounds of muscle to boot. There was a good reason why Redmond's opponents had such poor rebounding stats with Ari controlling the paint.

That said, Faith was always up for a challenge.

"You're going to collapse one of these days," Ari said as Faith positioned herself under the bar. "You do know that, right?"

Faith adjusted her grip. "Probably not today, though. Spot me."

In the end, Faith only managed five reps before Ari threatened to leave her to her own stupidity if she didn't drop down to something more manageable. But she had given it a go.

Later, in the locker room, Faith twisted her hair up into a wet knot, muscles twinging when she raised her arms above shoulder-height. She might be sorry tomorrow, but only physically.

"How are things in the suite?" Ari asked as she toweled off. "Everybody getting along?"

"It's fine. I'm not home much, but Nan and I get along better than I expected at first, and Di . . ."

Faith stopped herself short. Did Ari really want to know about Di? Granted, Ari was one of the most easy-going people Faith knew. There weren't even any hard feelings between the two of them, even though Faith had come to the conclusion that she really did prefer guys. Ari had laughed that off and only teased Faith about it occasionally. But that had just been a single weekend, nothing like the eight months Ari had been with Di. Then again, she had asked . . .

"I know she's dating Delilah Green," Ari said patiently. "I just wanted to know . . . is she doing ok?"

Faith grimaced. She bought herself thinking time by rummaging in her locker for a pair of scarlet gym shorts that passed the smell test and shoving them into her bookbag for Jerry.

"Delilah's . . . sort of intense," Faith admitted. "But Di seems happy."

"Good. I'm glad. Tell her I said hey."

"I will," Faith promised. Then, in a moment of inspiration, added, "Why don't you come to the terrace Halloween party? We each get five tickets — do you want one? Or two?"

"I couldn't," Ari said.

Faith was already digging around in her bag for the little orange envelopes so coveted by Redmond undergrads.

Ari sputtered as she shoved two into her hands. "You'll need these, won't you?"

"Nah, I already gave two to Carl, and Jerry insisted he didn't need a plus one."

"And what about your plus one?"

Faith hoisted her backpack and ignored Ari's attempt to hand the tickets back. "No way! I've barely got time for meals this semester, let alone dates. You bring somebody."

"You're sure?"

Faith grinned. "The theme is I Love the '80s, and they take the costumes pretty seriously, so make sure you go all-out."

The answering smile on Ari's face was all the thanks Faith needed. She bounced out of the SMAC and across the waking campus toward Morning Prayers, buoyant on a healed ankle and the glow and uplift of having done a kindness to a fellow creature.*


Jerry sat in the lobby of the SMAC, waiting. He had his International Law textbook spread on the table before him and a library-bound copy of Pride and Prejudice tucked between the desk and his knee, so that he appeared to be studying while all the while he was reveling in the Netherfield Ball.** CallMeCordelia was right — he couldn't fully appreciate the nuances of Shyness and Suggestibility without having read canon, so he had slunk into the library and told several unnecessary lies about a nonexistent English seminar to the uninterested clerk at the check-out desk. Now Darcy was asking Elizabeth to dance and Jerry was holding his breath.

Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil . . .

"Hey, there!"

Jerry nearly jumped out of his skin at this warm greeting. True, he was only at the SMAC in the first place because he was waiting for Jem, but he had still been absorbed enough in the story to be startled.

"International Law, eh?" Jem said, peering at the textbook as he slid into the chair opposite Jerry. "What's that, the Hague?"

Jerry closed the novel silently and slid it into his bookbag. "In part. It's not all that exciting, though. Mostly just boring stuff like jurisdiction and extradition and Admiralty law."

"Ah, well, I may have to borrow that some time," Jem said with a rueful smirk that made Jerry half wonder if he was kidding.

It was a familiar feeling. Everything Jem said seemed like half a joke and Jerry was still surprised every time to learn that he was always perfectly in earnest. He had meant it when he invited the Merediths to Thanksgiving at Ingleside; he had meant it when he introduced Jerry to his parents as my friend Jerry; he had —bewilderingly— meant it when he had asked Jerry to meet him at the SMAC for a round of squash.

"I don't have a racquet," Jerry admitted, which seemed more acceptable than explaining that everything he knew about squash came from the YouTube videos he had inhaled in a panic since saying yes.

"That's ok. You can borrow one from the equipment desk."

Jerry gathered up his things, grateful that he actually did own a small gym bag. It had been full of winter hats and gloves, but he had cleaned it out and begged a pair of Redmond athletic shorts off of Faith.

"Are you taking up jogging?" she asked with barely concealed hilarity as she handed them over at Morning Prayers.

Jerry scowled. "If you ever see me running in public, just assume I'm being chased."

He had rebuffed all further inquiries, not wanting to fuel her mirth. Now he was here with Jem, trying to pretend that he knew where the equipment desk was and how to operate the day lockers.

It wasn't that Jerry had never been to the SMAC before. He'd come to see Faith play in the league tournament her freshman year, and would have come last year too if she hadn't been out with the ankle injury. Then there had been that one week sophomore year when a pipe had burst in his dorm and everyone had to trek across campus in the freezing cold to use the showers. That seemed providential now; at least he knew where the locker rooms were.

When Jerry and Jem had changed out of their street clothes, they headed for the squash courts carrying racquets and waterbottles, Jem in full chatter.

" . . . ever played shinty? I used to play in the Highland games with Ken. He's very good. He played field hockey in a development league for the Indian National Team until he broke his ankle . . ."

Shinty? Did people still play shinty? Sane people?

They reached the elevated catwalk between the basketball courts and Jerry hesitated, looking for Faith among the scarlet-pinnied women running shuttle sprints below.

"Wonder what they did to deserve that," Jem chortled.

Jerry grunted noncomittally. The only sprints he'd ever run had been in phys ed at Lowbridge High, preferring to spend his afternoons with the debate club rather than chasing after a ball. It was only just now coming home to Jerry that he was going to spend the next hour humiliating himself in athletic endeavor. The realization was like an egg cracked over his head, slithering down his back in a cold, slimy gob.

"I'm rubbish at squash," he blurted as they approached the courts.

"Oh?" Jem said with mild surprise. "Have you played before?"

"No."

"Then how do you know you're rubbish?"

Jerry had to concede the point, though it was only the first of dozens. The squash court was loud, close, humid; the ball whizzed, smashed, bounced; Jerry puffed, stumbled, flailed.

"Nice get!" Jem grinned when one wild swing made accidental contact.

Perhaps Jerry ought to have felt patronized, but Jem had a way of bellowing encouragement without making him feel like a complete idiot. He didn't go in for the sort of fakery that Jerry often employed when throwing a game of chess to Bruce, but he did modify his own serve so that Jerry had an outside chance at actually hitting a volley every now and then. Jem also wore himself out diving and sprinting for every feeble shot, looking unreasonably pleased and laughing at himself so often that Jerry never doubted he was genuinely having a good time. Late in the third game, a lucky bounce sent Jem scrambling after a ball he couldn't reach, resulting in a single honest point for Jerry.

"See, you got it!" Jem said, swabbing his face with a towel when the match was over. "You'll be better next time."

Jerry was certain he was on the point of death. His lungs were howling for air, his face was on fire, and he had lost track of his feet. In spite of all that, he found himself smiling as he reached for his water bottle.

"Sure," he panted. "Next time."


"Let's see, we've got one popcorn, one bag of M&Ms, one pretzel with cheez sludge, a Diet Coke, and a Sprite."

Di took her popcorn and soda from Jem, who was doing an admirable job of managing the overstuffed tray of concessions. He tossed her M&Ms into her lap, then flopped onto the bleachers beside her and propped his feet on the bench in front of them.

There was no need to worry about inconveniencing anyone by spreading out. Only a few dozen fans had come to see the Redmond women's basketball team play their exhibition game against St. Mary's, and even at midcourt, every group of spectators was able to give the others a wide berth. Di recognized many of the regulars, including Ari's parents, who had come over to say a pleasant hello despite Di's efforts to cringe into the cracks between the seats. Some of the fans were chatting pleasantly over the squeaking of sneakers while others played on their phones or watched the team run through their pre-game drills.

"Looks like a good team this year," Jem said through a mouthful of pretzel. "Ari's been working on that short jumper."

"Yeah," Di said. "She had a great tournament last year. Sorry you missed it."

Jem nodded his approval as Ari turned and hit a jump shot that barely ruffled the net. Di took a sip of soda and began to fill Jem in on what he had missed last year. In her freshman year, Di and Jem used to come out to cheer for the team and catch up with one another, occasionally dragging Walter or Nan or Nicole along by invoking a duty to school spirit. But mostly it had just been the two of them, kicking back and enjoying the show. It hadn't been nearly as much fun to watch alone.

This time, Di had invited Delilah, who had seemed keen enough until she realized that Ari would be there, too. Playing, Di had protested, not sitting with them. Delilah had gone off in a huff and Di knew she'd pay for it later. She wouldn't have come at all, but it was Jem and basketball and Delilah couldn't really hold that against her, could she?

"Whaddya think of their chances in the league this year?" Jem asked.

Di squished a red M&M into the center of a popcorn kernel and chewed thoughtfully. "Memorial's always dangerous, and Acadia, too. But they've got a shot if Faith's ankle stays healthy. And if she manages to avoid fouling out half the time."

That earned a chuckle, which Jem turned into a question with a laughable attempt at smoothness. "Soooo, tell me more about Faith."

Di bit back a laugh and decided to have a little fun with him. She made a show of unfolding her complementary Redmond Redstockings 2016-7 schedule and consulting the player bios on the back. "Hmmm. Let's see. Faith Meredith. Glen St. Mary, PEI, Provincial All-Star Team in her junior and senior years at Lowbridge High School. It says she's 5'6" but I think that's a bit generous. She averaged 11.4 points per game last year and 2.8 rebounds . . ."

Jem grimaced. "I was looking for something slightly more personal."

"Oh! Well, she loves Sour Patch Kids and she wears a lot of flip flops and she sings 'Bang Bang' in the shower . . ."

"Diana . . ."

Di blinked innocently. "Yes?"

"I meant: is she dating anyone?"

"Oh, that," Di said, laughing when Jem rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Let me think . . ."

"Forget it."

Di tapped a buttered finger theatrically against her lips.

"No, wait. Something is coming back to me now. Oh, that's right. I'm pretty sure she had a thing with Ari a while back."

Jem's brows flew upward. "Ari? As in your Ari?"

"I mean, not at the time . . ."

Jem turned owl-eyed toward the court, where the Ari in question was headed to center court for the opening tip. At the whistle, she out-jumped the St. Mary's center and batted the ball to Faith, who shouted orders for a half-court play.

"Are you serious?" Jem asked.

"Like a heart attack."

"No, come on. Really?"

The pretzel lay forgotten in the tray and Jem looked earnest enough that Di decided to relieve his misery. "Don't worry," she said, patting his knee. "As far as I know, it didn't really go anywhere. She mostly dates dudes. Though, she's not with anybody at the moment and I've heard her say that she has absolutely no time for any of that this year."

Jem acknowledged this with an exasperated exhalation. "You could have started with that, you know."

"And miss the look on your face? Never."

Di cackled as she assembled another salty-sweet morsel. She wasn't surprised that Jem was interested. Faith was beautiful and vivacious and Di spent quite a lot of time assuring Delilah that roommates meant roommates and nothing more. Still, Faith's beauty and aplomb rather overshadowed other girls, and Delilah did not enjoy being overshadowed.*** Di had offered to spend more time at Delilah's to soothe her rumpled feathers, but this suggestion was turned away with a deep sigh. Delilah's own roommates sniped and whispered, picking at her endlessly because she was so different.**** Delilah would just have to bear up as best she could.

"Do you think she's serious?" Jem asked, eyes fixed on Faith as she deployed her teammates on defense. "About not dating?"

"I guess so," Di shrugged. "She's always busy with practice or work or classes. Sometimes we'll hang out for a study break, but I don't think she really goes out."

"Never?"

"It's not like you go out either," Di observed. "Every time I text you, you're always at the ambulance. Even Saturday nights!"

Jem took another bite of his pretzel, licking cheez from the corner of his lips. "Saturday's our busiest day," he said through a mouthful. "Everyone's out having fun."

"Not you. Or Faith."

Something gleamed in Jem's eye, and Di recognized the zeal of the recruiter. "You could come join us, you know. You'd make a great paramedic!"

It wasn't the first time he'd asked, and Di really had been thinking about it. She'd been doing more health advocacy through Pride House lately, organizing Safer Sex workshops and attending a weekend training for street medics that had taught the basics of first aid and treatment for chemical deterrents. It would be good to have more training if she was serious about being useful at actions.

"I might be interested," she admitted, smiling back when Jem's face split into a grin. He launched into a recitation of the classes she'd need to take and the exams she'd need to pass, promising his own encouragement and assistance. He only stopped to suck in a breath when Faith launched a three-pointer from several steps beyond the arc. She buried it, and Jem leapt to his feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd and spilling salt and crumbs all over the floor.

When he sat again, Di poked him affectionately. "You know, I just thought of something."

"Oh?"

"The Halloween party. You're coming, right?"

"Nobody axed me," Jem said, leaning back and lacing his hands behind his head.*****

Di pulled a little orange envelope from her coat pocket and dangled it in front of his nose. "I'd give you two," she smirked, "but I don't suppose you'll be bringing a date."

Jem took the ticket with a grin. "No, I don't suppose I will."


Notes:

*Rainbow Valley, chapter 24: "A Charitable Impulse"

**Anne of Green Gables, chapter 30: "The Queens Class is Organized"

***Rilla of Ingleside, chapter 3: "Moonlit Mirth" — In canon, it is Rilla who resents Faith's beauty and charisma.

****Anne of Ingleside, chapter 37

*****Anne of the Island, chapter 25: "Enter Prince Charming"