“Are we gonna get started or what? Let’s go!” I yell at the girls, beginning our warm-ups with high knees down the field.
Coach named me team captain, which means I lead warm-ups on the days he runs late. People call me a goody-goody for it, but I don’t care. In fact, I secretly love it. Being a teacher’s pet makes me unpopular with my peers, but I’m the one who gains the perk of getting out of study halls and boring classes to hang out with whatever teacher I want. No one else has ever gotten to do that before.
All the girls groan, angrily throwing their phones in the grass, but they comply and file in behind me, nonetheless. They think I’m annoying but keep it to themselves when I’m right in front of them, although their hushed words behind my back do reach my ears at times. Their typical favorite criticisms are, “know-it-all, goody-two-shoes, weirdo”—you know, nothing original.
I’ve never had the courage to confront any of them about it. Plus, what good would it do anyways? We graduate in a month, which means I'll hopefully never see these people again. I just have to put a brave face on and get through it.
Coach Lukas jogs up to the track, hands on his knees, panting dramatically.
“Made it!”
He flings his head up, revealing a grin that moves the long stubble on his face upwards. We’ve never seen him fully clean shaven but that’s probably for the best. If we did, we might assume he was a student. He graduated college a few years ago, but they hired him as our coach this year because he was a nationally ranked runner during his time here. Not to mention they couldn’t find anyone else to do the job.
He catches his breath enough to blow the whistle and round us up. It took less than one minute for him to recover, already breathing normally after literallyrunning five miles from work to here. That’s how much of a beast this guy is.
I don’t understand why he chose to be a coach here instead of trying out for the Olympics. The rumor circulating is that when he married his wife during college, they decided not to pursue it, choosing to have a family and travel together instead. Sadly, it didn’t work out for them. They can barely afford to go anywhere on their salary with their family of four, even sharing one car. On Tuesdays and Fridays, she has the car, which results in him running here after work. His situation sounds sad to me, but he’s always positive and happy. I’ll never understand it. I would never give up on my goals or dreams for a relationship, but that’s just me.
“Alright, ladies. Huddle-up! Today we’re starting with four rounds of 40-meter resistance sprints. Partner up and make three rows. After that, we’re doing four rounds of 50-meter unresisted sprints. These will be timed. If you break your past record time, then you don’t have to do the extra weightlifting homework for the weekend.” He briefly glances over in my direction before shouting, “Charlotte and Shirley, grab the resistance equipment, please!”
More groaning fills the air as the girls line up into rows while Shirley and I make our way to the equipment barn.Our past coaches never required us to weightlift, but he mandates it, even making us do it on the weekends.
I shouldn’t complain, our teamisbetter than it was last year, but the underclassmen are the ones who’ll benefit from this program. There’s not enough time for it to benefit the seniors. Cross-country’s more my sport anyways, but that season already ended, and I never made a stir or broke any records.
Average like always.
My shoulders slump forward in self-pity.
I walk in silence next to Shirley who continues to talk my ear off about the biker boy and how hot our coach is. It’s not much of a change from her usual topic—hot actors. She’s never had a boyfriend, but she’s had her first kiss and messed around with a couple of guys at some parties.
I wouldn’t call her experienced, but she’s definitely not innocent. She should be more careful about who she lends her body to or she’s going to be the next teenage pregnancy statistic.
The rest of practice dragged on. I didn’t beat any past records, but Kate and Laure did. They’re two of our freshmen who contain enormous amounts of potential. I guarantee they’re going to make state and be nationallyranked by the time they’re my age. Jealousy surges deep within, but I remind my brain I can never be them so why stress over it?
When practice ends, I search for Ben one last time, but his bike isn’t here. Hopefully he just went home already. He lives in the country on a farm about ten minutes away from my house and twenty minutes from school.
Ben’s independent, even more than me. Between never being in trouble, getting good grades and how focused his parents are on farm work and their side business endeavors, they pretty much leave him to his own devices. His parents own a local butcher shop in town where everyone buys their antibiotic-free meat and another small store where they sell fresh homemade ice cream, butter and milk. It’s great food but it takes up a lot of their time. They don’t make him a lower priority out of ignorance or not caring for him, but he gets put to the wayside more than a kid should. Sometimes I feel bad for him, but he’s never told me their actions bug him. He’s an only child so he likes being a loner, or so he says. Who am I to question that?
I can’t relate to him in the slightest, in that regard. My parents are my best friends and never miss anything, always showing up for me no matter how big or small the moment. They’re the most supportive parents in theworld. That’s probably another reason why I'm okay not having anyone else close in my life besides Ben. Who I have is enough for me. Why complicate it?
I pull into the driveway and park in the garage. My parents always leave a space for me so I don’t get rained on if the weather’s crap. Living in Washington, we’re always prepared for pop-up rain showers. Although, my hometown, Roslyn, is one of the drier towns in this state, we still get thirty percent more rain than the rest of the United States.
On cue, a roll of thunder claps overhead.
Sigh.
At least the rain waited untilafterpractice this time. I hate running in wet shorts. Even though I’m slender, my thighs still chaff so much when I run, it’s unreal. I can’t imagine being one of the girls with thick thighs who deal with it on a regular basis. That would suck.
Huh, Dad isn’t home.
It’s unusual his car’s gone at this hour but maybe he had a late meeting today. He’s usually in the kitchen waiting to greet me first thing as I walk in the door so we can start the weekend off celebrating, but to be honest, it’s a relief he’s not home right now. I’m in no mood to celebrate the weekend being here. I’m in no mood tocelebrate anything, actually. I just want to lay on my bed and waste the days away until I figure out what I'm going to do with my life.
I jiggle the door handle for the house, but it doesn’t budge. Locked. Mom must be with him too. They both must’ve had a meeting with their agents or something.
Oh well.
This will make it easier for me to wallow in self-pity which I’m oddly looking forward to. I rarely get opportunities like this without them trying to cheer me up. Sometimes I just want to feel sad, you know?
My keyschinkagainst the metal doorknob, a sharpclickconfirming the lock releases. I drop my keys on the kitchen island along with my backpack and spot a stack of envelopes and folders on the kitchen table.
