The Distance

SEPTEMBER - COLE, 1

My dad told me once that a good first impression goes a long way. He extended this advice to school; basically, work really hard the first month of school so that teachers think you're a good student. Then, coast on that good first impression for the rest of the term. I had taken that advice to heart in previous school years, but for my last year, I worried it would be hard to focus.

There was a noticeable absence when I arrived for the first before school practice. Namely Jason Hernandez, my co-captain, the fastest boy on our team, and the guy that stole my heart was nowhere to be seen.

Me and the other members of the varsity team convened on the track at six o'clock in the morning, the way we had the year prior. I spotted Dan Sherman by his curly blonde hair first. He was like a lightning rod; he looked like he had grown a full eight inches over the summer.

"How tall are you now?" I asked.

"Six-five," he said as if the question embarrassed him. He stood sheepishly with hunched skinny shoulders.

"You look like someone clicked and stretched you on Photoshop," said Benji, one of the twins.

It was an accurate assessment. Poor Dan looked like he probably weighed the same as he had before he "shot up like a beanpole," as the teachers would say.

"Just remember that when we run, you'll take three steps when I only take one," said Dan.

"That's great," Benji countered with a laugh. "And your face can take out all the spiderwebs and low-hanging branches."

Benji and his brother Brad, conversely, had stayed the same height. They remained only a little over five feet since freshman year and were holding out for a final growth spurt.

"I'm thinking it'll be a Christmas gift," said Brad.

We were rounded out by Rick Tanaka and Noah Oswald who had moved up from junior varsity after the older teammates graduated. But after waiting fifteen minutes, it was clear there were only six of us and in cross-country, seven was the necessary number for a team. I stared out towards the bleachers and the long-cast shadows from the morning sun.

"Where is Jason?" Dan asked me.

I flinched and tensed my shoulders. I reacted like he asked me if Jason was a good kisser.

"How should I know?" I replied, which was more suspect than simply saying I didn't know.

"Weren't you running together all summer at the park?"

I felt my teammates' eyes on me.

"Yeah, but it's not like I talk to him all the time."

"I think twice a week all summer counts as a lot," said Benji with folded arms. Of course he was teasing me. Benji was always quick with a joke. But it felt like an inquisition.

"I hope he's feeling okay," said Rick. "That's rough, missing the first day of school."

We went out for a light run together, nothing too strenuous. We took the familiar back road between a subdivision and the football practice field. It was a sensation I was used to, watching the buses and cars pull into the parking lot as we jogged over morning dew. Catching the faces of tired teachers and students wondering what the hell we were doing up so early. To my knowledge, we were the only team that did a morning practice. I guess because we didn't need a coach or supplies, just a place to run and shower afterwards.

I wondered if Jason was in one of the arriving cars or buses or if he had forgotten about practice. It didn't seem likely. He hadn't missed a morning practice since making varsity. He said he enjoyed them; it cleared his mind and helped him start the day.