The ribbon beneath my fingers quivers with the slight breeze, and the faint scent of the smoke from the starter's gun tinges the air. I stand on the starting line of the 1500 meter race. Almost shaking with nerves and energy, I spring forward from the line as the gun goes off.
The ribbon I'm holding circles all the way around the track, guiding me for my three and three quarters lap race. I can hear the footsteps of my opponents around me, but none close enough that we risk a collision. Maria's distinctive deep, even breathing grows fainter and fainter as she leaves all the other runners behind. She'll probably lap me by the end of the race.
I'm halfway through the first lap when all my nervous energy drains out of me, as if I'd left it behind at the start line. One of the girls takes advantage of my moment of hesitation and passes me, and I am forced to slow down so I don't run into her. It sounds like she's a couple meters ahead of me, but I don't try to get much closer in case I've misjudged the distance.
Before long, her breaths become fast and shallow and her feet sound like they're shuffling a little. She's definitely getting tired, but I have no way of passing her. I can't let go of the ribbon to move around her, and she's not going to move aside to let me pass. I realize with frustration that I have no option but to stay behind her the whole race. She's running slower and slower, and several other runners pass us. I know I could run faster than this. There's nothing more infuriating than being forced to do less than your best.
Two and a half laps into the race, people stop passing us. I realize it's because I must be in last place now. Feeling completely humiliated, I blink away angry, embarrassed tears. I don't want to come in last.
As I round the curve of my last lap, I start to count my steps, so I know about how much distance I have left. At the last second, I let go of the ribbon and sprint past the girl in front of me, slowing down only when Coach Davidson informs me I have crossed the finish line.
"Hey, Autumn." Someone lightly touches my shoulder, and I turn.
"Maria?" I ask, unsure if I've identified the voice correctly.
"Yeah." She starts to walk next to me. We're on the outside of the track now, and I hold on to the fence that circles around the track as we head towards where we left our bags. I feel like I should say something, but I don't trust myself to speak without tears spilling out.
Maria must notice something is wrong, because she says softly, "Hey, it's okay. It's not your fault. You had no way of passing her."
I force back the tears, determined to get a grip on my emotions. "I wanted to prove that I'm not weak or useless, that I can do what anyone else can. But I failed." I'm crying openly now as I voice my worst fear. "I am weak. I am useless. And I don't belong anywhere."
"No, you are not!" Maria says fiercely. "You belong on this team, and you have a whole season to prove yourself! Now you know to start faster next time, so people slower than you can't pass you. What happened today won't happen every race."
"If I ever run another race," I mutter unhappily.
"You can't give up now." Maria's voice is quiet, but the intensity behind it forces me to listen. "In my first race three years ago, I ran 6:28 in the 1500, not much faster than your 6:41 today. My best time is 4:43 now. A lot can change in not too much time. And I've watched you run. You have perfect running form when you're not bent over to hold Hope's harness. You give nothing but your best and then a little bit more when we're sprinting or running hills. And Davidson's noticed, too. At practice, she watches you with an odd expression on her face, a mix of surprise and approval and something else. You didn't fail to prove yourself today. If anything, you've only made it so it will be even more impressive when you come right back with a much faster time next week. You can't just give up." Maria hugs me tightly. "I believe in you."
Not quite sure of what to say, I finally tell her, "Thank you."
Maria had no obligation to give me her pep talk, to notice I was upset and to come to cheer me up. She barely even knows me, after all. It seems like such a simple thing for her to have done, but her words of support and encouragement have changed me more than she could possibly have guessed.
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
Puzzle Pieces (formerly Reach for the Sky)
Сучасна прозаAutumn Fletcher's life is a mess. Her mother is gone, her father locks himself in his room when he's not at work and refuses to speak to anyone, and no one but her grandmother believes she can amount to anything. When Autumn's family moves to the sm...
