Ava: Twenty Laps Around the Track

Muddy-Blue Eyes turns back in my direction, and while I can't sense any sort of real respect or care, he at least reclaims a professional air when he addresses me.

Before he can ask anything important, I have an odd, niggling little bug in my ear from what he'd said a few moments ago. "Five miles around the track is twenty laps?" I ask, with a faint frown.

"I—what?" His confusion is clear in his wrinkled brow and hesitation. "Yes. Twenty laps."

"Not twelve?"

"No. It's twenty. Four laps to a mile."

My memory is very clear of my torture during training, and I know that can't be right. "Jericho told us to run five miles, and it was always twelve laps."

"Beta-Mentor Ashbourne?" Muddy-Blue Eyes looks astonished, his brows rising. "Only twelve laps? Are you sure?"

"Positive. He had us count them." The memory of my jello-legs after each lap have me shuddering. "It was torture."