The Lost Tayamu

by Ben Cass

  Ellie laughed out loud for the first time in more than a day. She felt all her tension and anger at Jen melt away for good. Ellie felt lighter, as if a heavy load had suddenly jumped off her back. “Coach? How far have we run?”

  He thought for a moment. More track went by underfoot. “I’m not sure; eight, ten miles? We’ve been at it for a while.” She noticed he was finally catching his breath in between words like Ellie had been. Eight miles, at this speed? That was over thirty laps! How was that possible?

  “Finish line’s...up ahead.” Ellie could suddenly feel herself tiring rapidly and knew she didn’t have much left. “We stop now?”

  He nodded. “Winner take all.” They exchanged looks and then, amazingly, increased their speed. They tore down the track, the wind whipping Ellie’s ponytail behind her. The finish line was coming up quickly. People were still screaming, although Ellie couldn’t make out what they were saying. She could see people jumping up and down, waving their arms, exhorting her to go faster. The track stars were yelling the loudest, trading fist bumps and trying to wave her in. Mike had climbed onto his friend’s back and was screaming at the top of his lungs, beckoning her with his hands, yelling at her to not give up, to keep going. She glanced over and saw the coach was no longer beside her; her heart leaped briefly before he appeared from behind, moving even faster than he had earlier.

  Doyle and Ellie crossed the line at the same time. They kept running after finishing, but started slowing their pace down. It took them another half-lap to fully stop.

  Ellie collapsed onto the grass, her chest heaving, staring up at the sky. Doyle fell down beside her, crossing his legs at the ankles and sprawling out on the field himself. He reached out a fist and Ellie bumped her own against it.

  “Nice run, kid,” he said, gasping for air now. I guess he really is human, after all. “Nice run.”

  “Thanks, Coach. For everything.” Ellie turned her head slightly to see the class running towards the two of them. They looked funny from her sideways perspective. “Oh, look. A herd of stampeding wildebeests. Isn’t that how Mufasa died?”

  Doyle made a wheezing sound. “I always wanted to star in the Lion King,” he said. “Wanted to be Zazu, though.” Ellie turned her head to look at him, and they burst out laughing at the same time.

  Chapter Five

  Ellie stepped out of the shower and dried off. She went to her locker and quickly got dressed. She had already decided to walk home today; she figured she’d need to burn off the lactic acid in her legs, although she didn’t feel all that tired right now. Thankfully, it was a short walk home, only about twenty-five minutes or so. The Evans twins had left already, telling Ellie they’d call her later.

  As she was rummaging through her locker, Ellie heard voices coming from Coach Silvers’ office, which was on the other side of her row. Everybody had left fifteen minutes ago; she couldn’t imagine who Coach would be talking to.

  “Oh, come on, Doyle!” Silvers suddenly shouted. Coach Doyle was in the girls’ locker room? Ellie quickly checked to make sure she was fully dressed. “That girl is clearly on something!” Ellie froze, her hands gripping her purse. “That was NOT natural! No way!”

  “Are you also accusing me of being on something?” he retorted. It was amazing how his voice could be so quiet and yet carry as easily as Silvers’. “Because I was right there with her, you know.”

  “Doyle...” Ellie could picture Coach Silvers rubbing her face with her hands, the way she always did when she was trying to calm herself. “Doyle, what you did out there was absolutely incredible. On those last few laps, you were basically running a mile in three minutes. Forty-three seconds faster than the world record. Hell, you were like Secretariat, in fact: you kept picking up speed. That’s ridiculous, but possible, especially given the shape you’re in.”

  “Thank you for noticing. I work out.” Doyle hummed a song for a few seconds; Ellie fought down a giggle. He was humming some song from several years ago. What was it called? That’s right: “Sexy and I Know It”. Ellie gently closed her locker, the metallic “click” echoing like a gunshot in her ears, and edged her way down to the other end of the bank, close to Silvers’ office door, which was open.

  Silvers groaned at his humming; she was old, but she kept up on music and other pop culture items. That was one reason she was so loved by students. “Doyle, my point is while it’s plausible for you, it’s not for her. You are aware the world record for a woman to run the mile is around four minutes, right?”

  “I am now. So?”

  Silvers squawked unintelligibly. “So? SO? Doyle, she matched you! Stride for stride! She was ahead of you a couple dozen feet towards the end. If you hadn’t kicked it into tenth gear, or whatever the hell gear that was by then, she would have beaten you!”

  No...way. Ellie mouthed the words silently for fear of being discovered, her eyes wide. She knew she’d been slightly ahead of him at one point, but not how far. Her palms suddenly felt clammy, and goosebumps raised on her arm as she listened. Silvers continued, “In other words, she basically shattered the world record by more than a full minute! She’s always been a decent runner, but nothing at that level. She beat her best time by four minutes! FOUR MINUTES! And then she KEPT GOING FASTER!! Explain that, if you can!”

  Doyle heaved a sigh. “Adrenaline.”

  “Adrenaline?” Silvers sounded incredulous, and even Ellie thought that was pretty weak. She could picture Silvers stepping back, both hands raised above her shoulders, her face wearing the expression the students called “You’re an idiot for thinking I would believe you”.

  Doyle’s voice actually sounded annoyed. “Yes, adrenaline. Never heard of a mother lifting a car to save her baby?”

  “Sure, but...”

  “But nothing. The poor kid went through hell this weekend, Diane. Her sister was mugged and I had to come tell her about it. Do you know what was going through her mind? She was fighting guilt and anger. I talked to her out there; she was livid with her sister for not taking the attack as seriously as Elowyn thought she should, but more importantly, she was angry at herself for not being there.”

  “That’s...well, I mean, sure, I could see that, but...”

  “Again, but nothing.” Doyle’s tone had changed. It was authoritative, dominant. It was a tone that expected to be obeyed. Ellie had a mental picture of his words curling around Coach Silvers, pinning her arms to her side, leaving her helpless. “Emotions are powerful things, Diane. They can drive us to do remarkable things. Emotions are especially strong for teenage girls. You should know that much better than I, even if your teen years were back with Betty and Wilma.”

  “Smart ass,” retorted Silvers, but Ellie could hear the change in her tone as well. She was listening to him.

  Doyle’s voice changed again. Now it was light, almost pleading. “I’m just saying that what happened out there could have simply been a weird anomaly. Emotions, adrenaline, hormones...it’s a deadly cocktail. Look...has anything like this ever happened with her before?”

  A pause. Ellie found herself holding her breath. “No,” Silvers finally admitted. “That’s why it’s so suspicious.”

  “Well, if she was taking something, wouldn’t it have manifested itself somehow before today? Mood swings, body changes, something?”

  He’s good, Ellie thought. He had just explained away the ridiculously strange occurrence and it sounded perfectly logical and rational.

  Except Ellie didn’t believe him. Something strange and ridiculous had happened, and adrenaline didn’t explain it. Ellie had felt different out there; she felt more alive. The grass smelled fresher, the light seemed brighter. Runner’s high, maybe?

  “Maybe you’re right,” Silvers conceded. Ellie heard her sigh loudly. “All right, I’ll drop it for now. I’ll be watching her though, Doyle.” Ellie could mentally see Silver wagging her index finger at him.

  “I’d expect nothing less of you,” he assured her. “Now go home and crochet something.
”

  “Kiss my ass,” Silvers snorted.

  Doyle laughed. “I don’t think I can get that low to the ground,” he said. “Have a good evening.”

  “You too.” Ellie heard Silvers’ keys jangling; she was leaving. The office door closed, and Ellie heard keys jangling and the sound of a deadbolt locking. The outside door opened and closed a moment later. Ellie waited five minutes before she felt it was safe to leave.

  As Ellie stood and rounded the corner, she looked towards the door and screamed, jumping back and clutching her chest. Doyle was standing there, leaning against it.

  “About time you came out of there,” he said, jerking his chin towards the lockers. “I tried to keep her back to you so you could sneak out, but you just sat there and listened.” Ellie didn’t detect any annoyance in his tone, which was good. Most teachers would get angry at a student eavesdropping. Doyle, though, wasn’t like most teachers.

  Her heart rate was returning to normal. “You knew I was there?” He nodded silently. Ellie wanted to ask how, but there was a far more important question right now. “She thinks I’m on drugs?”

  He shrugged. “Apparently. Can’t really blame her, you know.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing towards the track outside. “That, out there: that was insane.”

  Ellie sighed. “Tell me about it.” She noticed him studying her, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable with his attention at all. He wasn’t checking her out; he was just examining her.

  Ellie looked directly at him, noticing again how easy on the eyes he was. “Coach? What really happened out there?”

  His eyes locked onto hers. “You tell me.” The intensity of his gaze made her drop her own. Ellie would never win a staring contest with this guy, not that she wouldn’t mind trying.

  She shrugged instead. “I wish I knew.”

  He nodded. “Makes two of us.” He leaned back, opening the door. “Go on, Sparkles. Go home.”

  Ellie slipped past him, murmuring she would see him tomorrow, and scurried down the sidewalk, afraid to look back. She was torn between anger and confusion. She was mad Coach Silvers would think she was doing drugs, but confused about what had really happened out on the track.

  Ellie had just made it to the patio when she heard someone call her name. She looked around and saw Maddie waving at her. Ellie changed her course to walk over to her friend while Maddie stood, gathering her backpack and purse.

  “I was wondering when you were going to finish up in there.” She grinned. “Stop for a massage or something?”

  Ellie snorted. “Yeah. Or something.” Maddie raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, which had always been her unspoken invitation to talk.

  Ellie didn’t want to say anything, but she couldn’t stop herself. The words just poured out of her mouth. She told Maddie about the run, about how she and Doyle had basically shattered physical barriers and left everybody behind. She told her friend how she had overheard the coaches talking about it and how Silvers thought Ellie was on some kind of drugs and how Doyle had defended her.

  Through it all, her best friend didn’t say a word, just listened intently. When Ellie finished, Maddie watched her wordlessly for a few minutes.

  “Well?” Ellie finally asked. “Tell me you have some kind of sage wisdom to share. What the hell happened to me out there?”

  Maddie smiled, but it was more apologetic than anything. “I don’t know what to tell you, sweetie. Personally, I’d say Coach Doyle is probably right; then again, if you swear you felt different, then I’m probably wrong.” She put her arm around Ellie and hugged. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything useful to say.”

  Ellie hugged her back, sighing. “Well, thanks for listening, at least. Maybe tomorrow will bring me answers.”

  JEN pushed her shopping cart through the aisles of the new Walmart, glancing down at the list on her phone. She’d gotten the shampoo and tampons Ellie needed, the toothpaste, the mouthwash...yep, all the stuff in this section was done. Time to head off to the automotive section; she needed to replace a taillight in her car. She had no idea how to do it, but figured she’d find it on YouTube.

  It only took her a few minutes to find the correct bulbs, and she added those to her cart, checking it off on her phone. Jen headed across the store to the grocery section. A text message suddenly popped up onto her screen, and she swiped it open. It was from Ellie.

  Hey. I need to apologize for the way I acted this weekend. I didn’t know how to process everything I was feeling, but Coach Doyle and I had a long talk today, and he helped me see things I hadn’t realized. Can we talk when you get home?

  Jen smiled and typed a reply. Of course we can. I’m at the store right now, and will be home once I finish. Love you, punk! She sent the message and put the phone back on top of her purse, considering what Ellie had said.

  An elderly woman’s voice intruded into her thoughts. “Excuse me, but could you reach something on the top shelf for me?” the woman asked, her voice coming from the side aisle beside Jen. Jen was used to this; at 5’9”, she was one of the tallest women in Groverton. She turned around to see who was asking, but stopped, eyebrows up, when she realized she wasn’t the object of the woman’s attention.

  Doyle was.

  He was carrying a blue shopping basket in one hand, and had his phone to his ear; the device, which would have been huge in Jen’s hand, looked medium-sized in his. “Kira, I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll call you back later.” He paused. “Love you too.” A sudden rush of jealousy clawed its way up Jen’s throat, and she fought the urge to groan in disappointment. She placed her hand on her neck, feeling her pulse pounding. Why was she reacting like this?

  Doyle slipped the phone into his pocket and smiled at the older lady, who was riding in one of the store’s electric wheelchairs. “Be glad to,” he said. “What is it you need?”

  The woman—Jen recognized her now as Pastor Arnold’s grandmother—pointed. “A bag of sugar up there,” she said. “I don’t know why they put it so high up.” Doyle reached out and easily plucked the bag from the shelf, handing it down to her.

  “There you go,” he said. “Anything else I can help you reach?”

  “No, thank you,” Mrs. Arnold said, looking up at him. She frowned and pointed at his face. “I don’t mean to be rude, but that scar looks very uncomfortable.”

  If the woman’s observation bothered Doyle, he didn’t show it. He just smiled and shrugged. “I barely notice it anymore; I’ve had it for almost half my life.”

  “Does it itch?”

  He shrugged. “Frequently, yes. I just ignore it.”

  Jen realized another shopper was watching her watching Doyle, and she quickly frowned and looked around as if searching for something. She stepped backwards into the previous aisle, glanced at the shelf, and pointed at it. “There you are,” she said, probably a little too loudly. She grabbed a box of cereal from the shelf and put it into her cart, then checked the list on her phone, trying to watch the other shopper out of the corner of her eye. The other person, a blond woman Jen vaguely recognized, shook her head and walked on.

  Perfect. Soon everyone will know Jen Aston was stalking the new guy in Walmart. She sighed.

  Mrs. Arnold was pulling a white lotion bottle from her battered red purse. “Come here,” she ordered Doyle. “Lean down and let me try this. It works great on my granddaughter’s stretch marks. She had a baby last year right before her husband left her, the piece of filth.”

  Jen watched in amusement as Doyle obediently leaned over and let the older woman spread the lotion over the vicious-looking scar. After a few seconds, she nodded in satisfaction. “Let it sit for a while,” she told him. “It’ll help the itching.” She replaced the bottle in her purse, and set it back onto the floor of the electric wheelchair. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” she asked him.

  Doyle straightened up, his back still to Jen. “I am. I just moved here a few weeks ago.”

  “That your wife on the
phone?” Mrs. Arnold asked. Jen grinned widely; the old woman was notorious for trying to play matchmaker.

  “Uh, no, I’m single,” Doyle replied, shifting his basket to the other hand. Single? Then who was he talking to?

  “Are you? Got your eyes on anybody yet?” Mrs. Arnold asked. Doyle gave a nervous laugh, which Jen found oddly endearing. He was clearly uncomfortable, but humoring Mrs. Arnold.

  “It’s...complicated,” he replied. Jen raised an eyebrow. Complicated, huh? she thought. Interesting.

  “Well, if you’re ever available, let me know. My granddaughter could use a decent man in her life.” She took Doyle’s hand, her own wrinkled one looking tiny and delicate inside his. He raised it to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand.

  “I will keep that in mind,” he assured her. “You have a wonderful evening, ma’am. And be careful driving that wheelchair in here; the aisles are narrow.” He released her fingers and she smiled at him, eyes sparkling, before driving away.

  Jen watched as Doyle shook his head, smiling to himself, and then turned and walked in her direction. Their eyes met, and he froze, looking panicked for a second before his expression shifted into a friendlier one. Jen wondered why he’d react like that to seeing her, but didn’t say anything. Maybe he was just embarrassed at realizing she’d been watching the whole scene.

  Then again, he’d had a similar expression when their eyes had met at the television station, after he’d saved her. It was...puzzling.

  “So...” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the endcap, “it’s not just teenage girls you’re able to charm with ease, huh?” Jen gave him an amused smile. “You better watch out, Doyle. Mrs. Arnold is famous—well, perhaps more infamous—for trying to fix people up.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and looked back at Jen. “Yeah, I got that vibe from her. It’s why I told her it was complicated. Figured it was safer than saying no.”