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."