The Last Lap

Chapter Ten

Walking in the crowded, smelly hallway was hard enough on a regular day, so you could imagine how hard it was when everyone was whispering about you as you walked by. The small snippets of gossip filled every crevice of the building. I hated it. I skipped art by hiding in the girl's bathroom. I occupied myself by drawing in my notebook. It was fun for a total of about twenty minutes. I looked at my phone that had no service and looked through all the pictures I collected. All of them were selfies from that night I fought with Lejla.

Lunch couldn't come fast enough. I pushed my way through to get to the English department to put my stuff down in Mr. Reynolds' room. He was not in his class, so I put my stuff on the nearest desk and turned around.

It was weird, being alone for the first time in months for lunch. Being able to see how other girls laughed with their friends. I greeted a couple people from the track team and headed off down the corridor with my food. I didn't have time to waste. Lunch was only thirty minutes and I couldn't let my sadness blur my focus on what's important.

"If I have to sacrifice them for this then so be it," I whispered to myself.

Mr. Reynolds walked in at the same time as I did. His lunch seemed a million times healthier than the one I was carrying from the cafeteria. He smiled at me gleefully, "How are you?"

I could be better, I thought. "Good," I sighed. We sat across from each other like we did earlier this morning. I pulled up the email while he hovered over me. I hated when teachers did that. It made me feel so exposed.

"You're a great writer, Ema. Are you going to major in English?" He asked. I shook my head in response. He frowned, "That's a waste."

"I'd rather not be like you, Mr. Reynolds," I joked.

"What do you mean?" He fake brushed dust off their shoulders. "I'm the greatest teacher ever."

I laughed at him and turned back to the food on the desk, taking a few bites of mash potatoes, "Yeah, I don't know yet. My mom is pressuring me to be like my brother but what's new? He's always been the star child."

"I felt that," He nodded his head as he opened his salad container.

"What are you going to do? Nothing. You can't really change anyone's opinions at like forty."

"Sure you can," He frowned. He went to his bag and pulled out a laptop to search something up. It was the Holy Bible. He pointed at the photo, "This has been changed plenty of times. People still believe it."

I touched my necklace and nodded. He wasn't wrong. "Protestantism started with one person. Rosa Parks was the only one on that bus to point out that it was unfair for people of color to sit in the back. It only takes one person for a change."

He took hold of the laptop and pressed the send button. I opened my eyes in shock as he smiled childishly at me, "You didn't really need me to read that. I believe you're able to do what you put your mind to Ema."

I looked at him, "What's the workout for today?"

He took another bite of his salad, "Probably a speed day tomorrow since it'll be nice and bright but today will be a long distance day."

"I think I need to ice my shins," I frowned as I got up to dispose of the lunch.

"What you need to do, my friend, is stretch after you run," He raised his eyebrows as he forked some more food into his mouth.

I rolled my eyes, "But I don't feel bad enough that I need to stretch."

"Are you serious?" He blinked at me. I looked at him with the same look and he shook his head, "You're so stubborn."

"I get it from my mom. Bosnians are like that."

"I don't think your ethnicity has anything to do with it. I'm Irish but that doesn't mean I'm an alcoholic. It's just how you are as a person."

I leaned on the desk again when I sat down, "No. I'm right. Culture has a big impact on you as a person and ethnicity is part of it."

He nodded his head, "Okay, but not all Bosnians are stubborn right?"

"Oh, no they're not all stubborn of course. That'd be stereotyping."

"You know what they say when you assume something," He chuckled and turned on some music. "It makes a donkey out of you and me."

I felt a buzz in my pocket and immediately looked at it. It was a text from someone that I never really texted.

.: Riptide LTE 11:57 AM 58%🔋

⇦ Joon

Joon: Hey.

Joon: Are you coming over today?

Joon: I finally watched that show!

Ema: No, I got into a fight with Jia

Ema: Sorry :(

Joon: Over what?

Ema: Something stupid tbh

Ema: I'm waiting for her to apologize.

Joon: OH MY BUDDHA

Joon: Are you serious?

Joon: Why don't YOU just apologize?

📷 ________________________________ [Send]

The phone on his desk rung. If I had enough energy I would have gotten up to answer it but I just looked at him as he made his way over to it. I wondered about Jia. If she was okay, if she was still mad. I was even tempted to go to the art wing just to see her and Jasmyn. I wondered if Isaac heard what she said.

Mr. Reynolds looked at me and answered with, "Okay, I'll send her down." I got up from my chair and looked quizzically at him. "He wants you in his office, the Principal, I mean. He wants to talk to you."