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“Seth?” I ask, my tone soft as he brushes past me.
Seth shakes his head while grabbing his discarded backpack on the floor. He hoists it over one shoulder quietly before turning back to me.
“Seth, I’m sorry,” I say, speaking from the heart.
I didn’t want to get between him and Rachel. I didn’t want to get between any of them. I only wanted to become their friends, to become a part of their group.
Seth sighs and shakes his head. “Out of the way, Goode.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” he says quickly. “I need a break.”
My heart cracks at the defeat in his tone. “But, what about the meet?”
Seth pushes past me. “Fuck the meet,” he mutters.
I take out my phone while I watch Seth leave, wanting to message Lucas about this whole situation. But as I stare down at my phone, I know Lucas won’t reply. He hasn’t replied to most of my messages. It’s like I’ve become some kind of social pariah since arriving at this school, and I don’t know how much I can handle being treated this way.
But there must be something I can do for Seth.
“Alex?”
I bristle at that familiar shrill voice and slowly turn around. Today really isn’t my day. My whole body stiffens as I find both my parents walking down the hill towards the track field. Mom waves her hand, a bright smile on her face while my father walks steadily, his hands in his pockets.
“Alex!” Mom shouts, louder this time.
Dad’s pace slows as his eyes land on me, and I can tell he’s already assessing the new hair. Mom’s eyes widen as she continues towards me, her stride turning into a slow jog. “Your hair!” Her face is a mixture of surprise and worry. Both of her hands grab my face and she turns it back and forth, as if she’s looking for any injuries. Thankfully, my black eye healed about a week ago, or else I would really be in for a huge lecture.
“You dyed your hair,” Mom says while stepping away from me. Dad’s arm comes around her shoulders, but his gaze is on my feet, specifically, on my new wing tattoos.
“And you have… wings,” Dad says while wrinkling his nose, his frown deepening.
I wince. “Yeah, there have been a few changes.”
“Is everything okay?” Mom asks, the surprise leaving her and her gaze filling with worry. She looks me up and down and her mouth parts as she stares at the tats on my ankles. “You’re not doing any drugs are you?”
I groan and look heavenward. “No, Mom, I’m not on drugs. Oh my God.” I look around, noticing several track members and parents are arriving. There gazes glance at us with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.
This really is not my day.
“Don’t worry, honey,” comes Dad’s easy voice, “I’m sure he’s just taken on a bit much at school. You know it’s not too late to go back.”
My mouth gapes open and I look between them, feeling my anxiety taking hold, making my hands shake and my breath quicken. “Is this why you’re here?” I shout. “To lecture me into coming home?”
Mom frowns. “No, sweetie, your coach told us to come to the meet. He said-”
“Then stop telling me to come home!” I shout while throwing my hands in the air. “Just stop.”
Dad scowls. “Now listen here. Don’t talk to your mother like-”
I groan and turn around, feeling like I’m a toddler throwing a tantrum, but I don’t care. It’s been nonstop with them insisting I return. I can’t listen to any more of it. “Just-just grab a seat,” I say while stomping back towards the track field.
It’s too much. I can’t deal with this strain anymore. Between them, Rachel, Seth, and what I’m doing with my life, all I want to do is run away from it all. I want to run as far as I can, as fast as I can. I want to run until I’m flying, and I want to soar as high as possible in order to be rid of it all.
I try not to focus on my parents watching from the sidelines and instead stretch, preparing my body for the run. My gaze focuses on the mountains in the distance, and I try to calm my breath, breathing in and out deeply, numbing myself to the nervousness demanding to take hold. I hear Mike shouting something in the distance, but I’m unable to make sense of it as I focus on letting everything go.
It isn’t until I’m standing at the line, preparing myself for the run that I finally hear the voices of the crowd cheering, but I keep my attention on the mountains. My hands press against the ground. The wind ruffles my hair, and I lower my gaze, allowing myself to focus on the finish line. It’s a 5k sprint. It should be easy. It will be easy with all the training I’ve been putting in.
