Runner Girl

Chapter Three

My feet find my rhythm fast, even though I'm running on hard concrete instead of the familiar dirt road, and as I pound away, I wait for the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me to subside. It's dark in the street in the way that only a city can be dark, I guess; sometimes I'm swallowed up by pools of blackness as I run past shuttered store fronts and deserted alleys, but other times, I hit a burst of people and light spilling out of a restaurant or bar, and it's like I've run into a completely different place.

I run instinctively, not taking note of street signs or any landmarks, but right now, I don't care. I'll worry about finding my way back once I've calmed down, but even though I've gone half a dozen blocks, I'm not feeling any closer to calm.

A red light breaks my flow, and I jog in place impatiently, waiting for the cars to turn so it's safe for me to dart across the intersection again. There are a couple of people waiting for a bus on the corner, and I can feel some of them looking at me curiously, but I don't make eye contact. Running at night may be stupid, but I read somewhere on the Internet that the worst thing you can do if you're out alone after dark is make eye contact or small talk with the people around you.

The light changes to green, and with a burst I take off like the gun's just fired at a race. Two blocks away from the bus stop, I spot a slopping path running perpendicular to a big stone bridge, and I veer left without hesitation. The path is well-lit, and there are a handful of other runners on it in pairs and trios, jogging both ways beside the inky river, and some of my tension dissipates. Even if I don't know how to get back to the hotel apartment, I know where I am right now: with my people.

I settle into a less frantic rhythm, pacing myself off the steady beat of my heart and the thrumming music that fills my ears. The trail is peaceful, and I'm surprised to find something like this in the big city. The smells of summer fill my nostrils, fresh green grass and the lingering hint of something fried, like from a street carnival or something, and my shoulders lower away from my ears as more of the tension in my back releases. The water to my right is quiet, and even though it's wide enough to be a river, in the darkness it seems almost still, like a pond or a lake. But even the water isn't enough to make me forget where I am; buildings loom up around the trail, like paper cutouts against the dark sky. Some are lit up, but others are just outlines against the stars.

I want to hate it, but there's something kind of beautiful about Columbus right now, and I follow a cutback across the river on a wide white bridge so I can run back up the other trail facing the city skyline. If this is all I have to do here, it won't be so bad. But even as the thought flickers through my mind, I ball my fists tight, remembering that I don't even know what I'm going to do here, other than try to avoid my father. I guess I'll go to school in the city, but the idea of starting over at a new school fills me with such a heavy feeling of dread that I slow down, even though I'm not ready to stop running yet. Without warning, thoughts of Miles and Cal bubble into the front of my mind, and I almost choke on a sob, even as I push myself to move through it. I can't think about them right now, I tell myself firmly, shutting the doors on my mind and forcing myself to focus on the jolt in my knees and the solid pavement beneath me.

A guy stretched out on a park bench sits up as I pass, and I see his lips moving as he looks at me, but between my music and the adrenaline that's racing through my veins, I can't hear what he says. Feeling like an ass, I shake my head slightly and pick up my pace again, veering up the sidewalk to avoid running to close to his bench, but even still, I can feel his eyes on me, and suddenly, I'm all too aware of the fact that I'm alone in a strange city and I have no idea how to get back to the apartment. Hell, I don't even have the sperm donor's phone number, and as that thought settles into the pit of my stomach, the lights on my side of the river trail suddenly flair and then go out.

The sensation that someone is walking close behind me settles over me, but I resist the urge to slow down or look over my shoulder. My heart starts to pound, and I yank one of my headphones out of my ear, trying to listen to the darkness around me to see if I'm freaking out over nothing or if there really is someone following me.

Footsteps pound behind me, and I tense, getting ready to bolt into the fastest sprint of my life. I've made a loop of the park, and I can see the big white bridge up in front of me, the place where I turned off onto the running trail in the first place, and I know that if I can just make it to the bridge, there will be cars and other pedestrians not too far away. Before I can turn on the gas, however, the footsteps behind me get louder, and I realize that whoever it is has almost drawn even with me.

Gritting my teeth, I tuck my chin and keep running, trying to act nonchalant, but I yelp with surprise when something darts across my path. I don't have time to slow down, and I trip in the least graceful motion imaginable, catching myself on my hands with a bone-shaking jolt as my shins scrape against the sidewalk. Shit. This is not good.

Something dark and wet attacks my face, and I shake my head in surprise, pulling back. A meaty Pitbull is right by my head, drooling and wagging his tail wildly, and for a moment, I can't decide if I should scream or not.

"Don't mind Harold," a female voice says from over my shoulder, and my fear unspools slightly. "He's all bark and no bite."

"Harold?" I can't help myself. "Seriously, who names a Pitbull Harold?" With a groan, I get to my feet, dusting off my legs and palms before straightening up to look at the woman behind me. She's short, shorter than I am, and I quickly reassess her age. She doesn't look like a woman; in fact, she barely looks like she's hit puberty, and I shake my head at her, confused. "Should you be out running alone in the dark?" I blurt the words, and then I immediately feel like an ass.

Her eyes glint dangerously, and I stare at her, still trying to figure out if she's young or old. "Should you?" She makes the question almost sound like a threat, and I take an involuntary step backward.

Glancing over my shoulder at the darkened path I've just torn through with my heart in my throat, I sigh and shake my head. "Probably not, but I don't know anyone here yet."

"You didn't have to run, then," she says, stepping around me to pat Harold on the head.

I snort. "You wouldn't say that if you knew what I'd been through tonight."

She raises an eyebrow, and even though she's shorter than me, I suddenly feel like I'm just a kid. "So dramatic. Are you always like this?"

"Are you always so creepy?" Damn it. The words are out before I can think, and I mentally kick myself.

To my surprise, she chuckles. "No, not always," she says, her voice warm. "Only when I'm running at night and I don't want to be bothered."

"You're better at it than me," I joke weakly, gesturing back toward the dark trail. "I've been freaking out for the last mile."

She nods thoughtfully. "I could tell. That's why I let Harold off his leash; you looked like you needed company. And protection."

I want to ask her how she thinks she's going to be able to protect me, but this time, I hold my tongue. Maybe Harold is the protection in this equation; either way, I know it was stupid of me to run alone in a city I've never seen before, and to my surprise, I hear myself say, "I don't know about that, but a running buddy would be nice."

She studies me for a moment, and I know that look. She's sizing me up, deciding whether I'm friend or foe or worse, competition. I wait, standing still as stone. Finally, she grins and sticks her hand out to me. "Call me Kary," she says.