He ran the halls during study hall, wearing long johns under his sweats.
He skipped lunch.
He spit into an orange juice cup during the bus ride.
At the tournament, he gingerly stepped onto the scale.
Three ounces over.
“Three measly ounces? Auauauaugh!” Lars ran his hands through his thick curls.
“What am I gonna do?” he asked his coach.
“Lars, you really wanna make weight?”
He saw the clippers in Coach’s hand.
Good-bye curls, hello section tournament.