A Fighting Heart

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Pounding feet. Pounding feet against hard concrete to balance out the sound of my heart beating in my head. My sports bra and shorts are soaked with sweat and the sun glistens off my wet skin, but I keep running. I used to think there was nothing a long run couldn’t fix. Now I just run for the speed. For the complete control you experience when your body is begging you to stop. 

When I get back to the house I check my phone. I calculate my heart rate as I head to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it up at the sink. Six miles in an hour, not bad. 

“Did you have a good run?” Grandma asks from the living room. I nod, taking a long sip from the glass cup. Running is always good. The endorphins afterwards make you feel good. It’s scientific.

“Why don’t you take the boat out. You and Mackay still have your licenses, right? From when you all came down a couple summers ago?” Grandma suggests with a smile. She’s sitting on the couch reading the Friday paper. 

I nod again. “I would love to. It’s been awhile since we were out on that lake last.” 

Mackay is my best friend from back home. She’s currently on a mission trip in Africa, taking care of sick children. She’s pre-med at Stanford so this was an incredible opportunity. I should send her a letter, letting her know I’m here. Our communication’s been so scarce lately, I haven’t gotten a chance to explain it to her. 

We used to come here together, to Texas. She came with my family, first the summer before freshman year and then the summer before senior year. We had the best time on those trips, but a lot has changed since then. 

Making my way to my room, I strip off my running clothes and hang them out to dry. Pulling my hair up into a hat, I grab a bathing suit and shorts from the dresser. “The boat is still down at the marina, yeah?” I call to Grandma through the door. She calls a “yep” back and I slip on my flip flops while tying on the bikini top. 

Grabbing my bag, I head back out to the living room, kissing Grandma on the cheek as I pass. “I’ll be back around five then” 

Getting to the Marina is easy. I get to use grandpa’s convertible while I’m visiting, and the feeling of flying around corners while the top is down is exhilarating. We used to hold our arms up in the back when we were younger, like we were on a roller coaster, and grandpa would make us laugh by doing the same, no hands on the wheel. We would yell and scream and smile until it hurt. 

Once I arrive, I walk down the dock and swipe the key card, entering the code. Making my way to the boat slip, I waste no time pulling off the cover and getting the boat ready to drive. Backing out of the marina carefully, I wait until I’m passed the “no wake” sign to kick up the engine. Then, it’s like I’m flying.

The boat sails smooth and straight, jolting every so often when it hits the wake of another passing boat. I can hear shrieks from little children on tubes as the sun beats down, and I turn the wheel, directing the boat by memory, towards our favorite spot. 

When I finally arrive at Cricket Island, I drop the anchor and layout on the seat. We named Cricket Island on one of our trips when we were little. It was new and manmade: sand just dumped in the middle of the lake, and there were so many crickets. They chirped and sang and played melodies as we all swam and splashed and picnicked. 

I let my mind drift further into the past, and the sun has me drowsy enough that sleep seems inevitable, until I hear another boat approaching, and laughter echoing off the waves. Someone whistles from near-by, and I hear someone shout, “Hey there! You come here often?” 

Propping myself up, I look towards the noise to find a party barge dropping anchor. A group of four boys, in their twenties I presume, are lounging around. The boy who yelled is leaning off the back, holding a beer. He wiggles his eyebrows at me, just as a girl, who was hidden before, comes up from behind and hits him on the head. 

“Sorry about that! Tom here had this undiagnosed social disorder that turns him into an ass whenever there’s any decent female around!” she calls over, laughing as the boy named “Tom” pokes her side. 

“I don’t know how much longer it’ll go undiagnosed, I keep meeting boys with the same exact problem!” I call back. I see the girl smile at my joke, and she pulls her shades up on top of her dark brown hair. 

“You’re funny! We need more funny girls around here!” she calls, taking a sip of her beer. I’m not sure if she’s already tipsy or naturally this friendly. “Wanna join us over here? We’ve got booze and beer!” 

Why not? I grin, giving her a nod, and strip off my shorts, throwing them onto the bench and grabbing the boat key. I dive off the side of the boat, coming up to claps and hoots. Swimming over to the barge, I grab the hand extending over the side. The boy named Tom pulls me up, and offers me a towel. 

“I apologize for my behavior before,” he says with a slight bow. I look to Gigi who looks just as confused as I feel, and we both burst out laughing. 

“I’m Savannah,” I say, extending a hand to her. 

“Well Savannah, it’s really great to meet you.” She motions for me to follow and we walk to the front of the boat where the cooler is stashed. Handing me a beer, she takes another sip of her own. “Are you new around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out on the lake?” 

“I’m up for the summer, staying with my grandparents. They live over in the Grapevine Mill’s development.” I take a sip of my own drink, letting the cool liquid wash down my throat. 

“Oh that’s awesome!” Savannah squeals, “I’m just five minutes from there, and honestly, I’m thankful there’s another normal girl around, even if it’s just for the summer. I mean, you seem pretty normal. Not like the typical pageant queen or cowgirl you’ve got around here.”

“Sounds like that’s a pretty broad spectrum,” I cringe. “I’m from the East Coast, Rhode Island, so it is definitely different down here.” 

Gigi smiles even wider and takes a seat, motioning for me to do the same. “Well, Savannah, I think we just became friends then. And trust me, that’s as good for you as it is for me.” I laugh along with her and sip my beer. I have a sneaking feeling that this summer just got a lot more interesting.

Spending the rest of the afternoon with Gigi and her friend’s, who I learn are Tom, Matt, Terrance, and Phillip, is really nice. They were all born and raised in Texas, but go to school all over the place. Gigi is the closest to me, studying at University of Delaware. When I finally announce that I have to get the boat back to the marina, Gigi follows me to the back of the boat. 

“Look, I know we just met and all but I have tickets for this rodeo tomorrow, and like I said, I don’t really get along with the typical girls from around here. Still, it would be really fun to go with someone who agrees that the cowboys are better looking than the bulls...” she trails off giving me a hopeful expression. 

Laughing I nod, “I would love to go.” 

After putting my number into Gigi’s phone and her promising that she’ll call me the next morning, I wave goodbye to the boys and swim back to my boat. As I drive back to the arena I can’t help smile. I remember being a little girl and seeing all the college kids partying on the lake, and it’s strange to think that now I’m one of them. It’s all very strange; the way things have turned out.