Letting go

.7.

Veronica hasn't said anything to me since the lunch incident. Besides her frequent death glares, everything has been just dandy between us. Unlike Veronica, I can't seem to escape Connor. We seem to always find each other wherever we go. We have begun a game of exchanging a few glances when we think the other isn't looking. We both know what we are doing yet we don't stop or question it. Sometimes we meet each other eyes and hold a glare until one of us breaks away. It's almost like we are testing one another. He seems to always win because I'm the one to break contact each time. When Connor Sullivan looks at you, he doesn't just look, he stares into your soul, uncovering the secret layers of it one by one. That's enough pressure to make me break eye contact instantly. 

"Brown, can I talk to you for a minute?" Mr. Rogers calls out to me from his office, intruding on my conversation with Jo.

I tell Jo that I will meet her in the car and she nods before heading out of the gym. Mr. Rogers is sitting down, clicking through something on the computer when I knock on the opened door.

He doesn't look up, "Take a seat."

I sit down on the brown leather chair resting my forearms on the armrest. His office is covered in trophies varying in multiple sports from football to baseball. There is one plaque that reads: "Voted Best Coach of 2016."

Mr. Rogers turns in his swirly chair resting his hands on his desks, "I have been looking through your records ever since you got here. I knew your name sounded familiar." He opens up a tan folder pulling out an old newspaper article. He hands it to me and there on the front page is a blowup photo of my smiling face wearing a gold medal around my neck.

A 14-year-old girl from New York beats the teen female national record for the mile run

I look up at him, "I don't understand what you are trying to get at here. I quit track a long time ago." I slide the folder back towards him, not caring.

He looks taken back by my response. "And why would you do that?"

I shrug, "Sometimes things happen. I had more important things to focus on." And that would be my mother.

"Rylee, I think you should get back into Track."

"Can I ask why you even care if I do it or not?" I ask, tilting my head at him.

He stands up, walking up towards his many trophies and plaques. His hands are clasped behind his back. He turns his head to look at me, "Because it would be an honor to be called Coach to someone with your capabilities." He walks towards me, "Rylee, I saw you run the other day in the gym. You have the heart of a true runner but you were barely even trying. You should never quit on something that brings you so much happiness and success." His words go in one ear and out the other.

"You don't know anything about me. Maybe I hate running."

Mr. Rogers shakes his head, grinning as if I had just told a funny joke. "That was complete bull crap, Brown and you know it."

"Look, thanks for the talk, " I push out the chair, "But I'm leaving now."

Mr. Rogers nods his head and I turn to leave but he adds one more comment as I am walking out, "Think about it."

I quit track for a reason and have yet to look back. It brought me pure happiness when my mother was there cheering me on in the stands. I enjoyed looking up into the stands after finishing a run to see her looking at me with the biggest smile that told me she was proud of me. The thought of not seeing her smiling down at me from the stands angers me. I want to curse at the world for taking her from me. She deserved everything in life. If I could, I would've traded places with my mom immediately without any hesitation. She was my rock after my father left us, without her my world would've been unsteady.