Finishing Kick

Chapter 1

Callie crested the hill and the finish line appeared, lined with colorful flags-and then the line seemed to recede when another girl thundered past.

Callie chased her on a gentle downhill slope, three hundred meters of fairway to the finish line of the State Cross-Country Championship. Through eyes hazy with exhaustion and the remnants of a cold, she could see her twin teammates, Anna and Hanna, sprint past the finish marker in a dead tie.

Two hundred meters to go and Callie could hear the gasping breath of another runner closing on her. Five strides later, the girl was beside her. Callie pumped her arms harder, willing her legs to move faster. Legs that could carry her for miles were failing now, with the finish in sight, when each placement counted most for her team.

Noise flooded both sides of the course and, penetrating over the clamor, someone shouting her name. The cheers of the fans and coaches slid past her as she fought for position.

She saw the red singlet and slashing white diagonal as the last of the Fairchild Academy runners eased by her. A Fairchild runner. Swearing, Callie leaned forward to gain momentum, rising up into a full sprint, her calves already starting to cramp, the pain alternating with each foot strike, each spasm an opportunity to quit, to let the girl go.

Seventy meters and Callie still matched strides with the Fairchild girl.

At fifty meters, another girl caught both of them. She was a tiny runner from a small school up north, and her breath came in sobs.

The three of them closed on the flags at the top of the finishing chute. Callie felt the agony of each breath as it exploded from her lungs, too little air for starving muscles. The blood pounding in her head drowned out the runners beside her, and Callie's vision squeezed down to a small circle focused on the white line that marked the end. She could sense the presence of the runners next to her and drew on their struggling effort, seeking just a small advantage.

The sobbing girl finished one step ahead, the last sob a moan as she collapsed. Instinctively, Callie dodged the fallen runner as she lunged past the line, a half step ahead of the Fairchild runner.

Relief and exhaustion mingled with joy, but a small doubt blossomed.

Was it enough?

"You did okay."

Callie, huddling to avoid the chill, brisk breeze that snaked its way to her still-sweaty skin under the Cloverland High warm-ups, looked over to Mark. The wind had been worse out on the course, but there, movement generated heat. The twins, Anna and Hanna, were shivering under the blanket they were sharing, blond heads touching as they all waited for the results.

"Not good enough," she said, feeling the echo of the final kick, legs heavy with lactic acid overload, girls passing her on the long straightaway to the finish line.

Mark shifted to his other foot. "You don't know that yet." Sweat, bobbing on a curl of hair over his eyes, dripped off. Mark still had not put on sweats after running his own race, exposing his broad shoulders and legs to the wind. An inch over six feet, he towered over the girls on the team.

Callie kept her face impassive, looking toward the microphone stand, waiting to find out whether they had made it or not.

"I mean, with a cold and all . . ." Mark shifted uncomfortably back to his original foot. "You did great." He trailed off as Callie kept her eyes on the awards table. Lined up were the trophies for the top four teams and medals for the top eight finishers.

She was listening, but between the head cold and the gnawing sense she had let down the other girls, his words were just washing over her. Idly, she thought it was nice that he was trying to cheer her up. He was a little on the weird side but a nice guy. Feeling a sneeze coming, she searched her pockets and found a tissue.