Give Them an Inch, Run a Mile

The trainers said the first surgery would be the hardest. They were right, but I should’ve asked what they meant by “first.” An extra muscle here, a bone reconstruction there, and an enlarged heart to top it off. A little help never hurt anybody, they said. You’ll be a scientific trailblazer. Though as I stared at my reflection, I looked farther from something worthy of celebration.

The overgrown heart in my chest thundered as anxiety started to zip through my veins, as if my body knew what was about to happen before I did. The door burst open behind me and a rush of assistants flooded the room. Two tugged at my coils and tied them into two puffs atop my head, another pair rubbed oil on every inch of exposed skin until the dark brown was glistening and slick. My spine straightened as hands of the last one ran down my back, brushing down the hair that’d begun to sprout.

Her hands migrated lower, running along the spoil of my most recent surgery. She smoothed the hair on my newly acquired tail, and the sensation was unlike anything I’d ever known. The appendage as foreign to my brain as it was to my eyes. She trimmed the ends and put it back down, allowing me to sag into my chair.

“You’re good to go, Mel. Coach should be in soon.” She snapped her fingers and the army of assistants filed out. The door didn’t have a chance to close before the click of Coach’s dress shoes sounded behind me. Here we go.

I stood from my chair, much quicker than I intended—damn these new muscles—and turned to face him. His beady eyes inspected me as one would their prized mare, and I fought the urge to tuck my tail between my legs. He’d tell me to be proud of what I’d become, but I would’ve kept my Achilles torn all those years ago if I’d known it’d lead to me to become a what.

He finished his perusal of me. “Ready to shock the socks off the stadium?” he asked, his proud smile made me feel anything but.

More like traumatize. “Yes,” I said, steeling my face.

I followed him out the door and down the dark hallway. The cheering washed over me as I got my mind right. Before the accident, I could tell myself it was just 400 meters, then I could return to my normal life, but that wasn’t an option anymore. The only normal parts I had left were already on the chopping block.

I stepped onto the track. The cheers died as shock ripped through the crowd.

The sun was blinding.

The announcer was the last thing I remembered before the adrenaline of the race wiped everything away. “And for her Olympic debut, Mel Jones—the world’s first human hybrid!”