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“Yeah, it’s like… too early,” says Hunter.
I have no time to talk and barely utter, “Bye,” before stalking outside the door and running down the steps. I need to remain focused. If I want to go to Paris, I need to talk to everyone today.
My first errand of the day is to speak with my coach. I run down the sidewalk, moving easily and not pushing myself too hard. It’s just to warm up my muscles for practice. I keep practicing what to say, feeling nervousness take hold of me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my entire life.
My running shifts to a jog as I approach the field, watching coach pace back and forth while several of my peers stretch off to the side. I grimace. He definitely doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood. I sigh and jog towards him. Might as well get this done and over with.
“Coach!” I call while jogging toward him, stopping about a foot in front.
Coach slides his scowl towards me and shakes his head, already looking skyward as if my very presences pisses him off. “What is it Garcia?”
“I was hoping to have a word with you about something.”
Coach snaps his fingers. “Make it quick, but not so loud. I have a hangover and the last thing I need is you making my headache worse.”
“I found a marathon in France I’d like to take part in,” I rush out. Coach’s eyes widen on me, staring at me as if I my skin suddenly turned green. I don’t wait for him to say anything. “It’s about 25 miles and takes place in July. Top ten get medals.”
Coach opens his mouth, but I don’t let him get a word in.
“It’ll look great for the school,” I say with a forced smile. “I am your top runner and all. I could get that medal, do some interviews with the school paper, get the word out that Aurora’s track and field has done it again. I can even pay for my own plane ticket. I’ll just need your sponsorship and some money for my time there.”
“Wait, stop,” says Coach while holding up his hands. “You want to go where now?”
I make a face, already suspecting he’s going to say no. “Paris,” I say, my voice cracking, making me grimace more.
Coach throws up his hands. “Why Paris?”
I purse my lips. I probably shouldn’t tell him the truth, but I can’t think up a lie good enough, especially given the amount of sleep I got the night before. “Because my girlfriend is going to Paris,” I say while sliding my foot back and forth on the dewy grass.
Coach groans. “You gotta be kidding me, Garcia.”
I shake my head. “No, sir. I’m not.”
“The money in the running program is for US based marathons. Not for Europe. Not for girlfriends.”
“I know,” I say quickly.
“And, I might add,” says Coach while shoving a finger in my face. “You missed practice last week.”
“I was-”
“Sick my ass!” Coach shouts. He shakes his head while scowling at me. I feel my heart cracking in my chest. This is stupid, I tell myself. I shouldn’t be asking Coach to sponsor me on such an expensive trip. I should’ve known this would be fruitless.
“Now,” begins Coach while crossing his arms. “The only way I can pay for this trip is if you buy your own plane ticket and find suitable accommodation on your own.”
My brows pinch together in confusion. “What?”
“You heard me, Garcia,” Coach says angrily. “Or have you suddenly become deaf? If you want to go, you need to handle those two things.”
My head bobs up and down. “Of course,” I rasp. I clear my throat and smile. “Thank you.”
Coach groans. “Don’t thank me, yet. Bring me back that medal. It’ll look good for the team.”
I smile and nod. “Of course, Coach. You can count on me.”
I turn on my heel, running towards the track and feeling my body floating with joy with each step I take.
“Hey, Garcia!”
I turn around, running backwards while watching Coach’s lips lift into a smile. “What?” I shout back.
“You should tell that girlfriend of yours congratulations. She’s lucky to have a boyfriend like you.”
I scoff, turning around and shaking my head. I don’t know if that’s a correct assumption. I’ve been an asshole to Rachel too many times to count on one hand, but slowly I’m making it up to her. I want to be a man she can rely on and look to if need be. I know she doesn’t necessarily need me, but I hope, if any problems arise, she knows she can lean on me.
Well, part one of Plan Paris is done. Once practice ends, I’ll need to go to the sports store and pick up some extra shifts. Maybe I can get Joe fired for being an asshole to Rachel? That will definitely open up some extra shifts for me to take.
I shake my head. That’s probably not a good idea. Rachel will feel bad and Joe will probably find a way to get back to me. I smile, thinking of Rachel working at the coffee shop she always goes to. I can start there. If they offer me a job, Rachel and I can work together for the next few months.
And then once the semester ends, we can fly away to Paris. Together.
