Finding You

Chapter 5 - Wait, My What?

The rest of the day flies by, especially once I finally get Jay and Zack to stop trying to pimp me out.

They promised they'd leave it alone, but of course, they also promised me once that they'd watch my goldfish over the weekend when we were ten.

Basically, I expect to hear a rumor about me taking boyfriend applications by the end of the week.

Finally the clock reaches 2:45, and it's time for Track practice.

Rose and I head to the girls locker room to change into our practice clothes.

"So did Sean try to talk to you at all?" Rose asks, shrugging a t-shirt on. "Because if he said anything stupid, I can beat him up for you. Seriously, it's no trouble."

I laugh. "No, he didn't. Thanks for the offer though. I'm sure you'd win that fight, no problem."

"For your information, I would win that fight because I'm awesome," she says matter-of-factly as she pulls her hair up into a ponytail. "It's called the element of surprise, Mia."

I shrug my t-shirt over my head and fold my blouse, before shoving it into my gym bag. "Well, he'll be at practice, so you might still get your chance to prove me wrong."

As we leave the locker room and head out to the track, my stomach begins to churn.

You see, since our school is so small, almost everybody does sports. And on our track team, everybody runs. Whether you're fast or slow, you're going to run. If you're slow, you usually end up on the 3200, which is a two mile terrible race that clearly only exists for punishment purposes. I'm told there are people that run it voluntarily, but when I did it in eighth grade, I was not one of them.

Since then, I've gotten faster and my races have gotten progressively shorter. Last year, my longest one was the 800 meter, which is half a mile. Still, it was considered a distance race, which meant I had distance practice.

Distance practice and sprinter practice? Way different. Don't get me wrong, sprinter practice is still really difficult, but there's a difference between running three miles and running six. As our coach puts it, "they don't have to run for as long as you do."

That's total crap if you ask me, but Rose is a sprinter, so I try not to complain too much.

Well, I try not to complain out loud, at least.

This year though, I have another chance to be a sprinter. Every year I've gotten faster and my turnover speed has improved a lot since last season. I just hope it's enough, especially since Sean is a distance runner, and I want to spend as little time around him as possible.

Coach Smith calls the whole team over. We gather around him as he announces the names of the sprinters and distance runners for the year.

He's almost gotten to the end of the list for sprinters. He still hasn't called my name, and I start to prepare myself for the inevitable.

Great. There's no way he's going to call my name, and I'm going to have another terrible track season yet again. Maybe I'll fake heat stroke or something. Or how long do you think it would take to recover from a broken leg?

Just then, the sound of Coach Smith's gruff voice breaks me out of my thoughts.

"And finally, Mia Valiente. That's it for the sprinters. Now distance," he continues down the list.

Rose turns to me excitedly. "Mia, did you hear that?" she says, nudging me with her elbow.

No matter how hard I try to hold it back, I can't help but smile. "I can't believe it," I say.