The Christmas Olympics

Turkey Trot

I hadn't taken my mom's advice and woke up with a hangover and my back killing me. Miles and I hadn't stayed at the bar very late, but I found myself unable to really talk to him about anything going on in my life without copious amounts of alcohol in my system. I think that maybe I'd cried, but I wasn't sure. Maybe that was when I got home.

I rolled off the air mattress with a groan; I was way too old to be sleeping on this thing. I really needed to figure out how long I was planning on staying here, because I was beginning to think investing in a real mattress was going to be my best option if I wanted use of my lower back in the near future.

I made my way downstairs to find my entire family in chipper spirits, chatting and sipping coffee like waking up at seven am to run a 5k was the most normal thing in the world.

"I don't know who any of you are anymore. Why are you excited to run?"

"Oh, Honey," Mom said. "You'll have fun. We weren't very excited our first year, but now we love it."

"How can I be related to any of you?"

"Coffee?" My dad offered.

"Please."

"Drink up, the race starts at eight."

I accepted the cup and took it back to my room to sip while I dressed.

The four of us drove together and I felt like a child again riding in the backseat with my brother; we even sat on the same side of the car that we had when we were children: me behind the passenger side seat. The race began on Mainstreet and signs directed the giant loop of the Turkey Trot around the town.

I reluctantly left the warmth of the car to follow my family to the sign-up booth. We all grabbed clipboards to fill out the sign-up sheet. I wandered over to the curb and plopped down hard on the cement while I scribbled in my name.

"Looks like you're still here."

I glanced up from my clipboard, squinting my eyes. My face immediately soured into a frown. Arden.

"Generally when someone comes home for the holidays, they stay for the holiday."

"I see you haven't lost your sarcasm."

"I see you haven't lost your annoying personality."

Arden chuckled. "Still bitter about always losing, huh, Whitley?"

"I did not always lose, Parker," I snapped and shot to my feet, my adrenaline kicking into high gear. Even after fifteen years, Arden's presence made me irrationally angry as I recalled high school and every single thing she did to piss me off.

Arden grinned at me, though I knew she intended to mock me. "Still a sore loser, Whitley?"

"I distinctly remember being Valedictorian of our graduating class, Salutatorian."

"And I still remember being class president, head of the student newspaper, and captain of the volleyball team."

"Remind me: who got into Georgetown?"

"I think I did just fine at Yale."

"Did you graduate at the top of your class there too? Or was that just me?"

Arden offered a sardonic smirk and looked me up and down. It made my blood boil. "Are you running today?" she asked instead, changing the subject.

"I didn't come dressed like this to watch from the sidelines."

Arden chuckled. "Well, good luck, Parker. I think you'll need it. I hope you don't run as slow as you did in high school." She flipped ponytail over she shoulder and walked back to a group of people stretching out their limbs. She didn't look back. I glared at her.