Frequencies [UNDER HEAVY EDITING]

May 27th '1

Pulling my track jersey from the bottom of my closet was like opening a can of memories. It smelled like fresh grass, sweat and victory, even after being buried under layers and layers of other clothing for the better part of two years.

Prom was only a month away now, the conversation with my father two weeks behind me and I felt like maybe, just maybe, all the pieces that consisted of my life were finally falling into place.

About ten days ago, I had applied to the track team again. The coach, who did remember me from a few years back, gave me one and a half week to train and a school match to prove myself and I was, if anything, a trained professional. I had no doubt I was going to make the team, even of it was for the less than two months that were left of my senior year. I just wanted to feel some purpose again.

Surprisingly, the colors of my jacket hasn't faded. Rubbing my finger over the deep red fabric, I brushed a few balls of dust from the back, but other than that, it was fine. I shrugged it out, then wrapped it around my shoulders, effectively covering the ugly school sports shirt.

My track shoes were already next to my bed, exactly where I'd dropped them off yesterday after training, and I quickly put them in a bag, swinging the strap over my shoulder.

Soph was already up and running, rummaging around the kitchen with bacon and eggs cooking on the stove. She smiled when she saw me. "Morning Bec, you look good." She shook up the eggs a bit. "Do you want some too?"

I shook my head lightly, dropping my bag next to the table. "Nah, think I might actually go healthy for once. I want to be as fit as I can be."

"Understandable." Sophine chuckled, back handedly throwing me an apple.

I caught it, staring at the offending green and red with mistrusting eyes. "Just because I said healthy doesn't mean I want to eat fruit. With healthy I mean more along the lines of yoghurt and those freakish müsli things of yours."

"Right," Sophine laughed, "What was the last time you actually ate any kind of fruit?"

"Do banana chips count? I had those last week."

"No!" She sounded downright offended. "That's it, I'm making you a smoothie and you're going to drink it all." She raised her hand when I opened my mouth to protest. "Don't even try."

Ten minutes later, a large glass of organg-reddish liquid was placed in front of me, filled to the brim. I stared at it critically. "Is it supposed to have those little pieces in it?"

Sophine sighed. "Yes Rebecca, it's supposed to have those little pieces in it." Her using my full name was never a good sign. "Those are the little seeds from the strawberries and little flakes of oats. Just drink it, would you?"

I shook my head. "I'm not drinking this."

"Look, do you want to win or not?" She raised an eyebrow and I sighed.

"Fine."

I tentatively raised the glass with murky liquid to my lips, only to be surprised by its taste. It was actually quite good, not too sweet with a hint of acidity. At the look on my face, Sophine started laughing.

"Yeah, I thought so. Now hurry up. I didn't wake before ten on a Saturday morning, only to have you late at your race."

I gulped down the smoothie, stuggling to swallow it all at once. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

***

We made it there right on time. The track course with its red colour stood out against the green grass, people gathering by the fences around it. Soph took place at one a little away from the finish line, giving me supportive smile.