MACY HENDERSON is a troubled and bright teenager who lives in a run-down, one-room motel with her ill mom. While striving to care for her and attend high school, Macy learns horrifying truths about the world. Evil lurks everywhere, but with evil, a...
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North Carolina's heat coats my throat in dry sand as I swallow to water the inside of my mouth. Every breath becomes a struggle, making my mouth dryer as I sprint a lap for the four-by-four relay. My heart pumps wildly while I grin slightly.
My arms swing back and forth at the elbows as I hold the pink baton tightly in my left hand. My narrowed eyes focus on the next advantage point, striving to take seconds off my previous practice time.
I have practiced this final handoff repeatedly, competing against my past times. The other three girls on my relay team complain. I know they don't care as much as I do, but I have a lot riding on this relay team.
"I promise this is the last time. We have States in two days, and I want our handoffs to be perfect," I apologetically smile and wipe the sweat dripping from my temples. The girls roll their eyes but agree. I'm not the only one with stakes to lose.
I have an advantage because of my height and age. Being held back in the third and seventh grades makes me eighteen in the eleventh grade. I have a four-point average; I missed too many days caring for my mom. Running helps motivate me to focus on schoolwork to graduate on time, and it helps me work out the anger I get from watching my mom kill herself every day.
I do have a love-hate relationship with this sport. The intense frustration from defeat and the exhilarating passion with personal records. Through all the emotions, the low and high moments push me to do better.
School and family problems become irrelevant inside that chain-link fence. When my double-knotted Brookes meet the synthetic rubber, I am home. After dismissing my relay team, I stretch across middle field, moving to the watering hole to quench my thirst.
Lifting my head from the watering hole, I wipe my mouth and quickly zone out, staring at my school's decaying red brick. I remember reading about the school and its dark history. The countless suicides and accidents from kids falling off the high tower near the baseball fields. Even stories of a portal to hell in one of the hidden rooms of the high school.
Legends, myths, and mysteries are what pull me into learning. I love understanding the unexplained parts of Earth. I do best in my classes by practicing dissociation. I become quickly disinterested, but mainly, it calms my ever-growing panic attacks and breathing problems. The littlest things overwhelm me, but I stay close to the few who understand me as a human being.
As if on cue, Kels, a beautiful brunette with skin of silky honey and dazzling olive eyes, greets me with a bright smile. Kels' shy, good-looking country boy from 30 minutes south, a transfer—Matt, stands by her side. The two young teenagers could care less about anything but each other.
I smile weakly while my eyes drift to the opposite side of middle field. My dream stands there, creating a passion that builds a deep well inside my soul because my infatuations are a fantasy. After a few of my coaches pat me on the back before exiting the gate, my eyes find their way back to Dean Johnson.
