In some cases the iron weights were missing, rendering that particular machine virtually useless. As a result, there were people waiting around for their turn on the working units. I found the rowing coach by his shirt, hat and almost compulsory whistle. He was talking to three large students in long black cotton one piece suits designed to be light and cool during their exertions in a one and two place scull or a eight place with a coxswain. Oxford had recently won again and it galled them to place so poorly. I waited for the conversation to end and the coach just looked at me and said, "You better get the hell out of here kid." Not the type of language I would normally expect from a school official, or are you one of the senior students?" Kid get out of here before I put my foot to your haunches."I smiled widely and said, "You can give it a try but even the Ghurkhas could not always do it. It also would be a poor way to comport ourselves before our students." Our students! How the. Sara scratched her head. What if Ian was joking yesterday? What if he only wanted to play with her heart, just like how Lisa did to all the dorky boys who tried to date her? What if he would come into work, point a finger at her, and laugh at her for falling for a trick or a mean joke? She’d explode. She’d stand right there and explode into a million chunks of gore-bits in his face. And then become a ghost and strange him, only to near death because she wouldn’t want him to turn into a ghost too and break her heart after death. ‘No. No! I’m thinking too much about this!’ ‘Do you usually talk to yourself?’ Ian stood behind Sara with his arms crossed and his lips curved into a handsome smirk. Sara wondered if her heart would pop out of her chest any time soon and a bead of sweat traveled from the side of her head down her face. ‘You’re… earrrly toooday.’ ‘I missed someone.’ If words could melt a person, Sara was now a puddle of nothing. ‘Good morning Sara.’ He smiled and walked into.
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