Something snapped in Sam when she realized the man was making this personal. He hadn’t said a word to any of the others, and they’d fared worse than she. She wanted to chew iron and spew rust, right on his spit-and-polish boots. She grabbed the slimy rope, hauling herself forward. She was a quarter of the way up the rope, her hands raw, when she passed the muddy part; the rest of the rope was clean but wet. That had to mean she was farther up the rope than any of the others had gone. She continued to climb, cursing under her breath, using every dirty word she’d ever learned. Then the skin on the palms of her hands split open and blood smeared the rope. She did her best to work the rope between her fingers, but the strength just wasn’t there. She slipped and slid down the rope to land in the mud again. Her teammates rushed to help her, congratulating her excitedly when Pappy blew his whistle, signaling them to back off. They did.

“You have three more minutes, Rainford. Move!”

Sam turned around until she saw him standing under his nice, dry, green-striped awning. She brought up her middle finger before she marched off. She would have succeeded if not for Alpha, who blocked her way.

“Insubordination, Rainford. Drop and give me fifty.”

Sam’s middle finger shot upward a second time. Couldn’t the man see she was half-dead. Alpha barked. Sam sat down and let the rain pour over her.

“I gave you an order, Rainford!”

If I cry, he wins. If I die here in the rain and mud, he wins. If I do the fifty push-ups, I win.

She was back to the dirty words again to spur her on. Later, if she didn’t die, she’d go to the chapel and ask God to forgive her. While she was there she’d pray for God to strike Havapopulas dead in his tracks. Now that was a perfect oxymoron.

Sam could hear him counting. She was up to twenty-one and still moving. She was beyond pain now as she forced her body to do what was expected. She heard him call out thirty-seven. For the life of her she couldn’t subtract the two numbers to hear how many more she had to do. The next number she heard was forty-eight. She heard something else. Cheers. Not just from her own team but from the other teams as well. Then she heard the magic number. She should fall on her face in the mud and never, ever get up. That’s what they expected her to do. Instead, she somehow managed to get to her feet. She wobbled off, knowing she would kick the wolf-dog if he stood in front of her. Instead, Alpha stepped out of the way.