Little Talks

celeripedean: [iii]

celeripedean (adj): quick-footed; swift; fast-running

I sighed as I sat at the top of the bleachers where the sun was blocked by a few trees. I wanted to put my hands by my sides, but the newly installed metal seats were as hot as all get out, and I had already burned my legs through my running shorts. Which didn’t do me any good seeing as how I couldn’t run.

The rest of my P.E. class was lining up at one end of the track in anticipation of the seven laps that they had to run before the end of the period. Mariam was being dragged to the front by Kells, both of whom were followed by Allie and Chessy. I caught Allie’s eye, and she stuck her tongue out at me. I laughed.

Mr. Futter blew his whistle, and gathered the class around him briefly before sending them off. While most of the class went off right away, my four friends could be seen walking. Well, more like Mariam was walking, Kells was dragging her along, and Allie and Chessy were fake jogging alongside them. I bent down and fished for my water bottle that was beneath the bleacher, sighing some as my fingertips caught hold of the cool container.

“So, Kate.You playing tonight?” Mr. Futter was walking up the bleachers to where I sat, cradling the water bottle in my arms, trying to cool down.

“Yup.Wouldn’t miss it!”

“You know, Kate,” Mr. Futter said as he sat on the bleacher next to me. “You really can’t keep playing.” I sighed, glancing at my legs. Tape was wrapped around both my ankles in an attempt to give them more support. “What is it now, shin splits, torn ligaments, and… What was the other one?” We chuckled darkly.

“I tore my Achilles’ last summer. It’s doing better.” Mr. Futter shook his head.

“I have no idea how you keep playing with all of that. It’s got to be damn painful.” I shrugged.

“I dunno. I sorta forget about all of it. I mean, I know center mid is the position that you run in the most, but, I dunno, it just works for me.” I watched my classmates go around the track, wishing that I could be out there with them. “When I focus on running, it hurts, but when I’m thinking about strategy and who needs the ball and who has a shot on goal, is doesn’t really register. I miss running though.” Mr. Futter nodded.

“I heard from your middle school that you were one of their best for track and field,” he said. For a moment, our conversation paused as he yelled at the boys, so of whom were throwing dirt at each other. I snickered as all of them but Jace and his friend, Darren, got in trouble.

“Yeah, I really miss it. If I could, I would go out and run all the marathons in the city,” I said, laughing at the end. Mr. Futter laughed along with me, his baseball cap bouncing up and down in sync with his shaking shoulders.

“I’m sure you would, Kate.” Mr. Futter got up and walked down the stairs to talk with one of the other P.E. teachers.

“Kate!” Mariam was standing on the side of the track. “Kate!”

“What?”

“You butt! Save me!” 

“If you walk fast enough you should be able to finish.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Awesome! Can you toss me my waterbottle?” I bent and grabbed her bright orange bottle, and stood, but was stopped. “Wait! Don’t do that! You suck at throwing things! Can you come and bring it down here?” I rolled my eyes.

“You are so lucky that your amazing friend is willing to do such a thing for you-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know, worship the Great Kate, we’ve been through this before.” I shook my head.