Emmy Levine Saves a Life

Chapter 1

I can practically hear my tennis shoes hitting the pavement like a heartbeat.

Pat, pat, pat.

My breathing is fast as the September air fills up my lungs with its chill, coming out like a cloud that I pass through quickly. My legs are calling out as I push them harder than they think they can go.

But I know I can go faster, be better. I grin, pumping my arms back and forth to pick up my pace.

Beside me, behind me, and in front of me I hear the sounds of chatter from my teammates. I'm surrounded by new acquaintances — some of them even friends — and my heart warms me so thoroughly that I hardly notice the feel of the fall weather biting at my bare arms and legs.

My teammates' words are a beacon to me, something I crave nearly as much as I crave the high of a good run. Compliments shot back and forth, small talk, and idle gossip make me want to lean in, to be a part of it.

I can almost hear them discussing the upcoming meet — debating whether we can finally beat our rival school — when my biology teacher's voice cuts through in a dull drone.

"... ectoparasites can include mosquitoes or other blood-sucking arthropods, but we are going to specifically talk about those that burrow into the skin, remaining embedded for long periods of time..."

Barf, I think, before trying to force myself back into my daydream. Running, yes. We were running. Talking about the meet...

"It's a common misconception that ticks are insects, but they are actually arachnids, relatives of spiders and scorpions," Mrs. Millar continues. "They bury curved teeth deep into the skin to attach as securely as possible for days at a time."

Oh gross, gross, gross. I stifle the urge to groan.

Science classes can be fascinating when we're talking about tectonic plates and volcanos or when we do cool chemical reactions, but this year I have to take Biology, so I get to learn about ticks. Did you know that if you try to pull them out, their heads can get stuck inside you? I wish I didn't.

Blood, organs, even cells splitting apart make me a little queasy. I would rather not know what's going on under my skin, thanks.

I hear Mrs. Millar talking about tick-borne diseases, so I turn my head to look out the window, willing the view to morph into something more interesting than a rainy parking lot.

The rows of cars in their lines at least offer some variety, from nearly-broken down beater cars that students scrounged up all their summer job money to afford, to shiny Ford and GM leases gifted by students' parents working in the auto industry. There are a surprising number of brightly colored Jeeps and PT Cruisers that the wealthiest students were gifted outright, which is a little mind-blowing to me.

If I squint I can see the trees in the distance, their colors varying almost as much as the cars in the lot as the leaves erupt into deep reds and crisp yellows.

Michigan has some brutal, humid summers and even more brutally freezing winters, but our autumns are the best I've ever seen. It's by far the best time to run, even despite the temperatures.

Last night I ran through a new neighborhood and saw a tree that looked just like an upside down strawberry, towering twice as high as the surrounding houses. I snapped a picture to show my best friend, Nolan. He appreciates stuff like that.

I peer back at the screen in the front of the classroom. On it is a close up of a louse.

I frown.

I thought the human anatomy unit was bad, with its stringy veins and beating organs and lumpy brains, but this is worse. So much worse.