Before You Say Goodbye

10

I have never climbed up a flight of stairs and then not looked down at my legs in contempt. I have never gone to bed without massaging my aching feet. I have not gone hiking after that one time I had done that with my friends, because the one time I did my legs hurt like Hell for the next week – I'm not exaggerating, one week. I have never done anything that could in any way hurt my leg. You could say I'm very protective of them. And within reasons too.

My legs have always been the weakest part of my body. I'm a clumsy queen and was proficient in tripping and falling over nothing. And I mean nothing. Even just air could trip me. Butterfingers and butterfeet – that's what Alan used to call me when he was younger – when he was around five, I guess. The annoying nickname had been given to me by my Aunt Mila – my mom's elder sister. Thank God, he grew up a little and forgot all about it.

I love walking, but I cannot do that for a long time if I wasn't careful. That was the reason I was extra careful while walking places. I sometimes prefer to hold people's arms while walking so that even if I did trip, I can balance myself easily.

Mom says what I was experiencing with my feet wasn't a disease of any sort and only happens because my leg muscles lack strength. And the loss of strength in my legs should only push me to make more efforts than usual to move them. The internet said the same thing. My nanna who said she experiences this too, says the same thing.

And that was why I joined the track team.

To build up the strength in my legs. And also because I liked running.

Maybe I shouldn't have listened to mom. As much as track running interested me, I also ended up with minor injuries and sprains in my legs very often. And that day totally sucked. Like today.

Our girls' track team captain Monique Ballard, gave me a small smile and a wave as she walked up the bleachers. "You okay?"

I looked down at my reddened ankle, "I slipped."

"It's okay, Addie," She patted my arm to let me know it was okay, before looking down at Joaquin who was examining my foot, "How bad is it, Joe?"

"She'll live," he said gently pressing my ankle to conclude the degree to which I'd hurt myself, "It's just a sprain, Moni."

"Thank God, that's a relief," she smiled up at me, "With the regionals coming around the corner, we couldn't afford to lose you."

She and I both know I wasn't competing in the regionals – or any competition to begin with. I just go with them to all the competitions, scream and clap at all the right times while they ran and bring cups and medals to our school. She was just being nice to me. God, I was pathetic.

Monique had a few more sweet things to say to me before she walked back to where our team stood. Joaquin unpacked the new sprain bandage – because I lost the old one – and started to slowly wrap it around my ankle. I sighed. I hope my leg heals before the bonfire this weekend. Terry had been so eager about us all going to one after so long, I don't want to be the one to put a damper on her excitement.

"Ouch, Jo-Joe, careful," I grumbled when Joaquin wrapped the bandage a little tighter around my ankle, "It hurts."

"A sprain is supposed to hurt, Delly," he smiled up at me, but loosened the bandage a little. Thank God. He sometimes forgets that I hurt very easily.

"Why am I the one who gets hurt all the time? I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic. Stop pouting," he locked the bandages in place before sitting next to me on the bleachers, "We both know this was inevitable when you decided to join the track team."