The whistle blows and I take off, leaving my teammates in the dust. We’re supposed to pace ourselves in cross country to preserve energy since it’s long distance running, but I think I’m just fast in general. And I usually like to get ahead of everyone else, and then slow down. I admire the sky—a mesmerizing hue of orange and pink—as I run along the concrete bike path outside of our school. Usually, we practice on our track, but on occasions—when the weather is nice—we go into the forest and run along the bike path. It’s much more relaxing than the track.
I take in a deep breath, easing at the sweet smell of moist leaves and soil. Tall deciduous trees tower around me, their colorful leaves reflecting the sun. I focus on the lulling sound of the swishing trees and singing cardinals, and my eyes on the path ahead of me. At some point, there’s a fork in the path. One is shorter—most people choose that and just go around a few times, but I enjoy going on the long one, getting away from the commotion of everyone else.
I slow down as I near the long path, my heart pounding with excitement. Sure, I’m used to running and I’ve been doing this for years, but I still get this overpowering feeling when I run. I’m not sure why, but it makes running just that much more exciting.
Suddenly, I’m shoved to the ground. I scrape my hands as I try to land in some way that won’t injure my legs. I’m successful, but it’s still painful. I’m about to stand back up, but I’m pinned against the ground, my arms keeping me steady against their force.
“Who said you could move?” A chill goes down my spine when I realize it’s Nicholas, a school wide bully. Usually he doesn’t bother me, mainly just teasing a few of the other kids, but I guess he’s had a change of mind.
“What do you want, Nicholas?” I say blankly, already tired of his bullshit.
“To mess with you.” His laughter echoes off of the surrounding trees, along with his two other friend’s, but I just roll my eyes.
“Listen, Nicholas, if you’re gonna be a jerk, just get it over with. I already apologized. I was a kid, too, and I was also going through a hard time.” I suddenly feel guilty, knowing he should be mad at me. I push up against his foot, but he pushes down, slamming me against the ground. I notice his laughter has stopped.
“Don’t ever mention that again.” he says forcefully, his voice wavering.
Thirteen years ago, my mom died. Twelve years ago, my dad got remarried. Eight years ago, Nicholas’ sister died of Leukemia. We were close friends back then. I came over to his house almost every day, constantly complaining about my home life, but also listening when he’d complain of trivial problems. I cared so much about him and his sister, but there was so much going on in my life. I was always busy, suddenly never having time to check up on him, and he never forgave me for that. He needed me to comfort him, needed a person who understood the feeling of loss, but I wasn’t there for him. I was too caught up in my own world to even notice him and his own struggles. I completely understand why he’s like this, but right now—right here—is my calm place. It’s where I go to get away from my worries and anxiety, and he’s interrupting it. I don’t want to be annoyed, but the feeling won’t stop bubbling in my chest.
“You know what? Just do what you want. I deserve it.” I give up, laying flat against the ground and waiting for some sort of impact … but it doesn’t come. I turn my head to see his face, a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
“What?” We stare into each other’s eyes for a moment longer before he angrily takes his foot off of my back and stomps off, leaving me to sit in my sorrows. Why would he come here to hurt me, but then storm off when I told him to do whatever? I deserved it, too, so it probably would’ve made me feel better in some way.
I stand up and huff, my breath freezing in the cool autumn air. I stuff my hands in my pockets and close my eyes. Why did that have to happen? I was feeling calm, enjoying the peaceful evening, but then he had to come and remind me of something stupid. I breathe—in. Out. In. Out—the steady rhythm slowly calms my nerves, and when I finally open my eyes again, I realize it’s already twilight. I slap my cheeks and take another deep breath before running back to the school.
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155Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1roGOcWl4T
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“Where were you? Usually you come sooner.” Coach Mike says.
I catch Nicholas’ gaze on me, but he quickly looks away when he sees me looking back. “Oh, uh, I just decided to take my time and enjoy the scenery.” I say, smiling as convincingly as I can. He’s not gonna believe it.
Coach Mike shrugs. “Maybe keep the evening strolls to after practice. You need to do as good as possible for our next race. Remember, it’s this Saturday, so be prepared.” He believed it? Wow, he’s more oblivious than I thought.
I nod, already tired of his oncoming lecture about how I need to put as much time as possible into practice because I’m carrying this team.
“Uh, I should probably get home. My mom will be worried.” I lie, trying to get away.
He huffs. “Ergh, fine. A boy must go home when his mother calls.” He waves me off. “Go on now, before your mother calls the police.”
I nod stiffly before grabbing my backpack from the grass and rushing off. The less conversation with anyone the better.
By the time I get home, it’s already dark out, and the house is filled with the warm aroma of tacos. Dad is phenomenal at making corn tortillas, and Lisa knows just the right seasoning for the meat, so our tacos are always the best.
I throw my backpack beside the couch and plop down next to Reagan who’s scribbling away at a piece of paper.
“What’re you drawing now?” I ask, straining my neck to get a glimpse of her drawing.
“Nunya.” she responds, causing my big brother instincts to tease her.
I snatch the drawing out of her hand, scanning it. It’s Theo and I in matching red and green sequin suits. I smile softly, but her hands grab at it.
“Give it back!” she shouts, her arms flailing in every direction I move the paper in.
“But I barely got to look at it.” I say, sticking out my bottom lip.
“I’m not finished yet, though.” she complains, giving up, and now using her puppy dog eyes.
“Ugh, fine.” I hand it over to her, glancing at the drawing once more before she slaps her hands over it.
“Nuh uh. You don’t get to see it yet.”
“See what?” Theo asks, appearing behind the couch. I jump, falling to the ground. Jesus, where the heck did you come from?
“My design.” Reagan says calmly, as I climb back onto the couch. I quiet myself down, letting Theo speak.
“Huh.” he says, peeking at it. “Looks nice.” She grins, placing the drawing back on her lap.
“Thanks.”
“Of course. Dinner is ready by the way.”155Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoQ9aJn0wYW
and then Add to home screen.