Early the next morning, I was jolted awake by Mr. Thompson's loud voice, "Rise and shine, Gabriel! Time for your morning run!" I groggily opened my eyes to find him standing over me, his face stern and unyielding, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made me feel uneasy.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the sleep, but my mind was foggy and my body felt heavy. "But Mr. Thompson, it's too early. We usually start at 7, not 6:30. Can't we just stick to our regular routine?" I pleaded, hoping to reason with him.
Mr. Thompson's expression didn't change, his jaw set in a firm line. "I know, but we need to step up your training. You're not going to become a champion by slacking off. You need to push yourself harder, Gabriel. You need to be willing to go the extra mile."
I felt a surge of annoyance at his words, but I knew better than to argue with him. I reluctantly got out of bed and began to get dressed, my movements slow and sluggish.
As we headed out for our run, the crisp morning air hit me like a slap in the face, making me feel even more disoriented. Mr. Thompson was already ahead of me, his pace fast and relentless.
"Come on, Gabriel! You can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the streets, making me feel like I was being scolded.
I was already running at full speed, my lungs burning and my legs aching, but Mr. Thompson just kept pushing me, his words becoming more and more critical.
"You're not trying hard enough! You're slowing down! Pick up the pace! You're not going to win any championships with that attitude!"
I felt like I was being tortured, not trained. Mr. Thompson's constant criticism and demands were wearing me down, making me feel like I was worthless, like I was never good enough.
As we finally finished our run and headed back home, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. I couldn't take much more of this.
"Mr. Thompson, can I ask you something?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to hide the frustration and anger that was building up inside me.
"What is it?" he snapped, his tone curt and dismissive.
"Why are you being so hard on me? I know I need to train, but this feels like torture. Can't we just find a better way to do this?" I pleaded, hoping to find some understanding, some empathy.
Mr. Thompson's expression didn't change, his eyes cold and unyielding. "You need to toughen up, Gabriel. This is what it takes to be a champion. If you can't handle it, then maybe you're not cut out for this."
As I stood there, trying to catch my breath, I couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration and desperation wash over me. I knew Mr. Thompson wanted the best for me, but I felt like he was pushing me too hard, too fast. The constant training, the endless pressure, the relentless criticism - it was all starting to take its toll on me.
"Mr. Thompson, I understand that you want me to be the best, but I think you're overdoing it," I said, trying to reason with him, trying to make him see things from my perspective. "I still want to be the number one wonder kid in the country, but I don't think I can handle this much pressure and intensity right now. I'm starting to feel like I'm burning out, like I'm losing myself in all of this."
Mr. Thompson's expression didn't change, his eyes still cold and unyielding, his jaw still set in a firm line. "You're not thinking about the bigger picture, Gabriel," he said, his voice firm, but not unkind. "You're not thinking about what it takes to be a true champion. You need to push yourself to the limit, to see how far you can go. You need to be willing to make sacrifices, to put in the hard work and dedication required to be the best."
I felt a surge of anger at his words, but I knew I had to keep calm, to try and reason with him. "But what if I burn out?" I asked, feeling a sense of fear and doubt creeping into my voice. "What if I get injured or exhausted? Is it really worth it? Is being the best really worth losing myself in the process?"
Mr. Thompson's voice rose, his tone becoming more aggressive, more demanding. "You're not going to burn out, Gabriel," he said, his words dripping with conviction. "You're going to rise to the challenge. You're going to show me what you're made of. And if you can't handle it, then maybe you're not cut out for this. Maybe you're not meant to be a wonder kid."
As I walked into the house, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. The tension between Mr. Thompson and me was still palpable, but at least I didn't have to deal with him anymore. For now, I could focus on getting ready for school and trying to put the morning's events behind me.
Mom was already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. She smiled at me, oblivious to the argument that had just taken place. "Good morning, sweetie! How was your run?" she asked, her voice cheerful and bright.
I forced a smile, not wanting to worry her. "It was fine, Mom. Thanks," I replied, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.
Mr. Thompson grunted, heading straight for the shower without even looking at me. "I'll be ready for school in 20 minutes," he said, his voice curt and dismissive.
I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. I was glad that he was leaving me alone, glad that I didn't have to deal with him anymore. At least, not for now.
As I got ready for school, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. I knew that Mr. Thompson was still angry with me, still disappointed in me. I could feel his disapproval hanging in the air, like a cloud waiting to rain down on me.
But I didn't care. I was determined to do my own thing, to follow my own path. And if that meant ignoring Mr. Thompson, then so be it. I was tired of trying to please him, tired of trying to live up to his expectations. From now on, I was going to do what made me happy, what made me feel good.
As I headed downstairs to grab some breakfast, Mom smiled at me again. "Hey, sweetie, are you okay? You seem a little quiet this morning."
I shrugged, trying to brush it off. "I'm fine, Mom. Just tired, that's all."
Mom nodded, her eyes filled with concern. "Okay, well, make sure to eat something before you head out the door. You need your strength for school."
I nodded, grabbing a bowl of cereal and heading back upstairs to finish getting ready. As I walked out the door, Mr. Thompson was waiting for me, his expression still stern and disapproving.
"Let's go," he said, his voice curt and dismissive.
I nodded, following him out the door and to the car. The drive to school was silent, the tension between us still palpable. But I didn't care. I was ready to face whatever the day threw my way, ready to stand up for myself and do what made me happy.