Bonnie Mae

Pow! The starting gun goes off. I'm off the line in a split second, getting out as fast as I can. In front of me, I see Marie Baxter, last year's state champion. She won the 800 meter run with a time of two minutes and 20 seconds, but this year, I was determined to beat her. We hit the break line and start to settle in. Around me, I hear the sound of runners' heavy breathing as their feet hit the track. The crowd is yelling at the top of their lungs for their favorite competitor as I approach the starting line. Marie's already passed the starting line, starting on her second lap. I begin to lengthen my stride, trying to get even with her. I catch up, staying with her until there are 100 meters left to go. My legs are on fire, burning with every step I take. Fifty meters to go. I glance down and see strings flying all over the place. It's my shoelaces. All of a sudden, my face comes in contact with the bumpy rubber of the track, while the crowd's going wild for Marie. I peek up and see her hunched over past the finish line. I look down, closing my eyes as I realize that my dream of winning the state championship has gone down the drain.

"Mae," someone above me whispers. I look up to see my coach standing over me. "You're going to be late for school."

"What?"

"It's 7:00 am, you're going to be late if you don't get up," says a voice.

I open my eyes, slowly coming to consciousness, to see my dad standing in the doorway of my room. He's wearing a black suit with black dress shoes, says it always makes a good impression on the judge and his clients.

"Come on Mae, it's Friday. Tomorrow you can sleep in," he says with a sigh.

"Easy for you to say," I reply, rolling my eyes. I hate school. I'm a straight-A student and a great athlete, but don't have a single friend. I'm too busy. Between taking care of my mom, studying, and practice, I don't have time to make friends. Without anyone to talk to, school is like a prison that you're trapped in for hours. When you're finally free, you have to go back the next day and do it all over again.

"Oh, by the way, I'm having a meeting with my client today so you'll be in charge of making supper tonight for Mom and Dylan."

"How is she doing this morning?" I ask, looking him in the eye.

He breaks my gaze, "Not good. I woke her up to give her her medicine and she didn't know who I was."

I sigh as I look down at my floral printed comforter. Mom was diagnosed with brain cancer in August. The doctors said the chance she survives is low, but they'll do treatment anyway. So far, they've tried chemotherapy and radiation. We're waiting on the test results to come back from the radiation, and if they don't show any progress, then we'll see a specialist for additional treatment.

"She'll be better tomorrow, Mae," he says softly. "Have a good day at school. I love you."

"Love you too," I say as I watch him close my bedroom door. I take a deep breath and turn to look at the picture of me and my mom that's sitting on my nightstand. It was taken about 7 months ago, a month before she was diagnosed. We're laying on the ground, laughing like maniacs. I had slipped in dog poop and dragged her down with me. Usually, Mom was a very poised, mannerly woman but that day, she let it all go, which is why it's my favorite memory with her. A lump begins to form in my throat along with tears. I gently set the picture back down and roll out of bed. Then, I walk into my bathroom and look into the mirror. I'm a spitting image of my mom. Blue eyes, fair skin, and brown curls that fall down to my shoulders.