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The Big Race: Betrayal, Friendship, and Accomplishment. |
The Run 0---------------------0 My feet hit the ground in a steady rhythm, calming my frazzled nerves. Eyes closed, I ran at top speed, feeling freedom and joy flowing through me. I ignored the hurt and fury, the memories of what had just happened. I had the worst luck in the world. ----------------------- “Good morning,” I called as I entered the locker room that morning. All voices were quickly hushed to be replaced by eerie silence. It was never quiet in there. That was when my suspicions were first aroused. I rounded the corner to see three of my teammates and friends gathered in a circle. Michelle, the oldest, was my best friend. She was absolutely beautiful, with tan skin and the silkiest blond hair I had ever seen. The other two were twins, a year younger, with brown hair and eyes. “Hi,” I said uncertainly. They were all looking at me with something akin to malevolence. But that couldn’t be. We’d all been friends since we’d joined the track team four years earlier. Michelle tossed her hair over her shoulder and said, “Tara, we’ve all decided something.” She wasn’t smiling. That was when I knew something was definitely wrong. “What?” I asked reluctantly. “You’re not on the team anymore!” The twins chorused. When I just stared at them, dumbfounded, Michelle explained, “I’m the captain of this team and I’ve decided that you’re no longer needed. You’re not fast enough.” --------------------- Just thinking about the whole thing made my blood boil. I knew she’d done it out of jealousy. The fastest runner on the team was me, and she knew it. Well, I wasn’t going to just stand there and let her get away with it. But what could I do? I did the only thing I could think of: run. It’s what I did when I needed to think. As I slowed to a stop, I took a gulp of water and allowed myself a small sigh of satisfaction. It quickly disappeared, however, as I thought of the upcoming meet. I couldn’t race without a team--or at least someone to train and sponsor me. Michelle had certainly done her work; she knew how important running was to me. It was my life. Leaving the track, I saw someone leaning against the fence. He looked to be a year older than me, but we were complete opposites. He towered over my scant five feet. His spiked black hair looked pristine compared to my mane of black curls, and I looked extremely pale next to his tan skin. I knew right away that I didn’t like him. “Hi there,” he said casually as I stalked past him. I merely nodded in his direction. It didn’t deter him, though; he just fell into step beside me. “I saw you running.” “Really.” I tried to act uninterested, but I badly wanted to ask if I looked like I deserved to be kicked off the team. “Are you on the team, by any chance?” he asked. “You looked good out there.” “Not anymore.”’ Although outwardly scowling, I was really preening at his compliment. “I’m Sean McCarthy,” he announced. “Tara,” I answered. “What do you want?” I added bluntly. He chuckled. “I want to train you,” he said, as if it was blatantly obvious. Stopping, I looked him over. He didn’t look like much of a coach. A denial was on the tip of my tongue, but then Michelle came to mind. Michelle, the traitor. How badly I wanted to beat her! “Okay,” I said finally. He blinked. “Why?” Shaking his head, he amended, “Okay, I’ll take what I can get, ignore the reasoning.” I inclined my head. “When do we start?” What followed were probably the hardest two weeks of my life. Sean may have looked soft and easy-going, but he was a monster when it came to running. He yelled and stomped his feet and blew his whistle until he turned blue. I would have left if he’d done any less. If anything, it made me respect--okay, maybe even like--him. I even cracked a smile a few times, evoking shouts of triumph from my tireless coach. The morning of the meet dawned warm and bright, and I knew I’d gotten faster. All I could think about was the fact that I was going to show Michelle what she had thrown away. This was war. As I was waiting for my race to start, Sean came up behind me. “Hey there, tiger,” he said. He’d never given me a reason for the nickname. “You ready for this?” “More than ready,” I told him. “Good. I have one suggestion.” His voice suddenly turned serious, a rare thing for him. “Look, I know there’s someone you really want to beat, but let me tell you something. If you want something bad enough--if it’s all you’re thinking about--you won’t get it. You will make yourself lose it, understand?” He grinned. “Don’t be so serious about this. Use one of those rare smiles of yours while you’re running. Enjoy it!” He bowed. “And that is all for my pre-race speech. Good luck.” I watched him walk away, aware that I probably looked stupefied. Well, I was. Who knew he could be so wise? …Why did I think that advice was wise? All he’d done was confuse me. I took my place at the starting line and crouched into position. Michelle was crouched a few people away. Had she seen me? Did she know I was here? No time to think about that now. I had to concentrate on the race. No, I had to enjoy the race. The whistle sounded and I took off with the other runners. My feet pounded in a steady rhythm. My breath seemed magnified, echoing in my ears. Was I ahead or behind? I didn’t know. I closed my eyes and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Ignore the other racers, ignore Michelle. Just one foot in front of the other. Breathe. Step. Breathe. And when I opened my eyes, the crowd was cheering. Sean gave me a hug and kissed my cheek, yelling ecstatically, “You won, Tara, you won!” The other runners gathered around, congratulating and commenting on how fast I was. And I just stood there with a stupid grin on my face. I knew I must look like an idiot, but so what? I had won. All that training and hard work had paid off. Michelle was standing a ways away, arms folded and a pout on her lip. I pulled away from everyone and walked over to her. “Good race,” I offered. “You too.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and sashayed away. I merely laughed as Sean pushed a trophy into my hands. Maybe my luck wasn’t so bad after all. |