When it Happens

Chapter 10

After school that day, I drove home, grabbed a quick snack, and threw my workout clothes on.

I ran, and ran, and ran as far as my legs would take me. I had to get this day out of my mind somehow. I sprinted for a minute, then jogged for five, repeating the cycle for about an hour. I ran so far, that I met the outskirts of the Walden.

I loved to run. Running is what I did when I was bored or upset, or even just for fun. I loved the way my poofy, brown hair tied up would whip back and forth against my back. I loved how the wind felt against my face. I never understood how kids could not want to do the running exercises at school that the coaches made us do. How could anybody not like running? And since it was fall, it felt even better. 

I hadn't even noticed that I had run all the way to where my father was buried. Man, how I wished I could talk to him at that moment. He always knew the right thing to say, just what to make me feel better.

I walked over to his grave and knelt down in front of it, outlining his name with my pointer finger. A single tear strolled down my face thinking what could've been if he was still on this earth. What would he tell me to make me feel better?

In my heart, I knew he'd tell me that all boys were stupid. Except for him. That made me laugh, and I patted on the dirt that was in front of his headstone. I probably stayed in that position for a couple more minutes, before I said goodbye to him and jogged back home.

When I got home, I grabbed a bottle of water and sat on the couch, only to be reminded about Nate again.

When Thursday breezed by, I felt myself getting nervous as the day went on for after school, when my cross country meet would start and be hosted by none other than St. Agnes.

Soon enough, I was on the track, getting myself prepared to run when I heard my name called from the stands. Even though I was mad at him, I still hoped it was Nate. When I looked up, I found Shannon, Dave, Fryer, and Mikey waving a huge poster with my name on it. I stiff a small giggle to myself, noticing Shannon's pristine handwriting and Fryer's bad picture of a girl running.

I prepared myself to start and when the official pulled the air horn trigger, I shot off, letting all my problems go.

To most people, three miles would be like hiking the Louisiana Purchase, but to me, I found it easy. Some days, I ran up to five miles. That previous Monday, when I mapped out my track, I calculated that I ran about eight.

My coach was watching my every move when I ran, blowing her whistle as to when I should run or sprint. Sure enough, when I got to the two miles and a half mark, I was in second place, not far behind the first place girl.

That's when coach blew the whistle to jog, so I could save up for the final lap, and when that happened, I sprinted as fast as I could.

And I was the one to break the ribbon.

People from my school instantly shot up, cheering as hard as they could. I could barely breathe, but when I finally managed to look up, seeing my mom and my friends standing and going nuts for my finish.

When I received my medal, I walked up to the bleachers and hugged and gave a kiss on the cheek to everyone who came. A part of me was disappointed that Nate wasn't there, but how could I expect him to show up? I had all but told him to get out of my life.

The thing was... did I want him out, though?

"Thank you guys for coming out and watching," I say and I get a jumble of "No problem" and "You're welcome."

"I will come and watch girls run in mid-thigh length athletic short's any day," Fryer said sarcastically, noting the fact that we have to wear these awfully long athletic shorts to stay in school dress code. We are a Catholic school, after all.