My lungs and heart grasp for air, for life. I close my eyes, breathing unsteadily and feeling the pain of it. I felt as if I may vomit at any moment. I couldn’t take much more of P.E. If you asked any average ninth grader what their experience was like in Physical Education and their description would be similar. Our teacher, or rather captor, shrieks at us to continue running. Out of the corner of my eye I see one red-faced girl trip and stumble into another. They take a great fall, but the P.E. teacher simply screams for everyone to continue. She walks over to the girls and yanks them up from the ground. I see their terror as they leave the dirt that was most likely a relief, even if they happen to be in pain there. The boys watch from the center of the field. They have an easy class. No kid in the history of our school has ever failed it. They continue their game of soccer, laughing and teasing us.

                My teacher, who we call Ms. T. for she has an unpronounceable name, then starts toward me, yelling the words, “Jade! Get your butt on that track!” She grins and adds, “Take an extra two laps.” She continued to progress toward me, but I know better than to let her catch me. I speed down the track like a cheetah would. Like a cheetah, I run out of energy in little time. My burst of adrenaline lasts for about 45 seconds.  I push myself to go onward and begin to swerve. I soon make the mistake of closing my eyes. I hit the curb at full speed. I feel myself flying through the air. I come hard on the ground. I am out cold.