Moonglass

by Jessi Kirby

“You too. Stay off the rocks next time, or your dad’ll kill me.” We all forced a little laugh, and I walked around the truck and hopped into the passenger seat, dropping my stuff beside me. My dad pulled a U-turn around Tyler, gave him a wave, and we trundled away. I waited until we were a short distance off.

  “Nice, Dad. Thanks.”

  “Don’t start,” he said flatly. “He’s a lifeguard. And you’re my daughter. That’s as good as it gets.”

  “And that makes sense how again? I don’t get it. I really don’t.” I paused. It was always right there, on the tip of my tongue when we had this talk. This time I said it. “You were a lifeguard when Mom married you. What was so bad about that?” I regretted it the instant I said it.

  He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked out the window. But I knew by his voice when he spoke that I’d hit a nerve. “Anna. Don’t.”

  The moment felt far more serious than I’d meant it to get. More than seemed reasonable. I looked at my lap. “Okay. I get it.” I didn’t at all, but I didn’t want to go any further than I just had. I waved my hand casually. “It wasn’t anything, anyway. I met a girl on the beach, too. She somehow talked me into joining the cross-country team. First practice is tomorrow.”

  He brightened a bit, but it seemed forced. “Really?”

  “Yeah. She seemed nice.” I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he steered us up onto the road in front of our cottage.

  He put the truck in park and turned it off, then looked out at the water, sparkling gold and glassy from the setting sun. “Wanna paddle out?”

  I knew that meant we were done and that we’d smooth over the surface I’d just tossed a rock into. But even the waves that crash down on the beach start out as tiny ripples, far out at sea.

  They just gain strength over time.

  My dreams made the night long. It’d been a while since I’d dreamed of her, but the effect was always the same. I’d just gotten better at dealing with it. By the time my dad poked his head into my room, I had already taken enough deep breaths to calm myself down and appear sleepy rather than shaken.

  “Hey, Anna. Time to get up. Don’t wanna be late the first day of practice.” He was already in his uniform, coffee cup in hand.

  I rubbed my eyes, wondering why in the world I had agreed to go. Dad disappeared into the hallway, and I heard his feet make their way over the wood floor to the living room. I lay back and looked at the ceiling. Meeting Ashley the day before seemed far away, and deciding to join the cross-country team out of the blue, on my first day in town, suddenly felt ridiculous. My stomach fluttered. Stupid.

  I swung my legs out of bed and walked over to the pile of running clothes I had laid out the night before. Groggily I pulled on my shorts, aware that they were old and faded, just like the tank top I put on next. I sighed and tucked the red pendant that hung from my neck into it. When I bent to tie my shoes and got a good look at their cracked leather and balding soles, I resolved to get new everything before the next practice. Then I thought of Ashley and wondered if Prada made running clothes.

  “See ya, hon! Have a good one!” my dad called. I heard the back door shut.

  “Bye,” I said to the quiet of the house. In the kitchen he’d left a bowl of steaming oatmeal and a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. I looked at the clock, shoveled a few bites into my mouth, and then grabbed the twenty and my keys and headed out the door. Our VW bus that had looked so perfect in front of the cottage now stood, slightly rusty and a little pathetic when I thought of rolling into the Coast High School parking lot. I dismissed the thought, annoyed at myself that I was already caring about what a bunch of people I had never met would think. It would be hard not to, though, if Ashley was any indication. I started the engine and crawled up the hill to the PCH, reminding myself that it didn’t matter—that I had friends back home who were real, down-to-earth people. I just wished I could take them with me. Once on the highway, with the windows rolled down and the music cranked up, I started to feel a little better. Enough to even entertain the thought that joining the team could be a good thing. I didn’t exactly want to spend my entire junior year alone.

  The only car in the parking lot was a sparkly pearl white BMW. Had to be Ashley. Or everyone here was descended from privilege. I shook my head and parked my bus right next to it, kind of my own little statement—no use disguising the gulf between our backgrounds. As soon as I cut the engine, the passenger door of the BMW swung open, and Ashley waved excitedly from the driver’s seat. I waved back, relieved it was her, and got out.

  “Hey! I hope you don’t mind, but I told you that practice started a half hour earlier than it actually does, because I wanted to make sure we got to talk first. Get in. I got you a coffee.” She held up a Starbucks cup. “I read that Lance Armstrong totally drinks coffee before a workout because it gives you a big boost. If we drink it now, it should be perfect timing for our run.”

  As I had done the day before, I smiled and held back the laugh at the back of my throat. “Thanks.” I took the coffee, ducked into the door, and sank into soft white leather. The inside of the car was warm and smelled like the perfume section of a department store.

  “I got it skinny, just so you know.”

  “Skinny?”

  “You know, nonfat milk, sugar-free vanilla?” she said nonchalantly. “Anyway, you didn’t eat breakfast, right, because this will be our first calorie-burning run.”

  “Nope,” I lied. “Nothing but fat to burn here.” I patted my stomach, wondering if it pooched out at all.

  “Good.” She looked in the rearview mirror as another car pulled up. I was relieved that it was a nondescript black something-or-other. “Oh, that’s Jillian. She’s supposed to be really fast. Her sister was faster, though, but she died in a car accident a few years ago.” She pulled a tube of mascara out of her purse and began applying it in the rearview mirror. “So. Sad.”

  “How do you know all this? I thought you were new.” I eyed Jillian as she got out of her car. She was average-looking—brown hair in a ponytail, regular running clothes, serious expression, confident walk. Nothing out of the ordinary. It made me wonder how I looked to people who knew about my mom.

  “New to the school. I’ve lived here all my life. My brother graduated from here last year. He ran for them.” She finished with her mascara and moved on to a tube of lip gloss. “He talked to Coach Martin yesterday, and he’s expecting us.”

  “What’s he expecting?” I picked nervously at the edge of my plastic coffee lid. Before I finished my question, a white truck pulled up. The driver was a man, midforties, who wore a baseball cap and sunglasses. Ashley shoved her lip gloss into her bag.

  “That’s him. Come on!” She squeezed my leg and hopped out of the car, waving to Coach Martin like he was a long-lost friend. He didn’t look up from whatever he was fumbling with on the seat of his truck. I sighed and put my coffee cup in the holder, then swung my legs out of the car.

  A few more cars had pulled up, and girls—juniors and seniors, I assumed—got out and greeted each other. It was easy to see which ones hadn’t seen each other in a while by the enthusiastic hugs and instant chatter. None of them wore makeup like Ashley, and that made me feel better, like I might actually be in the right place. Like she might be the one who was out of place. Girls milled around in twos and threes, absently stretching and shaking out their legs as they talked. No one said anything to us.

  It was earlier than I wanted to be awake, but I was abuzz with nervous energy. I kicked my foot up behind me and stretched my quad. Ashley, who stood next to me in hot pink running shoes and an outfit to match, looked over and did the same. Almost. When she grabbed her foot, she wobbled for a split second before using me as her last hope to avoid hitting the asphalt of the school parking lot. We both went down with a thud, and Coach Martin finally looked at us. He walked over casually.

  “Miss Whitmore. This must be your friend I heard about.” He looked directly at me. “What’s your name?”
It felt like a trick question.

  “Anna Ryan. I just moved here from up north. I, uh …” I fumbled, not sure if I should add more. He stared, waiting for me to finish. I had been right about the midforties guess. Silver hair peeked out from under his hat, and I was sure that if he’d taken off his glasses, his eyes would have shown his age. In any case, he had an athletic build that looked like he meant business. “I …”

  Luckily, he rescued me. “You want to run, right?” I nodded. “Well, let’s see what you can do. Miss Whitmore, I’ll be watching to see what you can do too.” His voice carried a note of sarcasm that set off a few knowing glances among the girls. I watched, trying to get a read on whether those glances applied to me by default, since I’d showed up with Ashley. Nice as she was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be put in the same category they’d probably decided she belonged in.

  Coach Martin turned to the group of runners now gathered in front of him, and stood silent until everyone settled, all eyes on him. “Ladies, welcome to Hell Week. Double days this week, Monday through Friday. You’ll take a break over the weekend, then our kickoff meet will be at the end of the first week of school. This morning we’ll be running Poles.” He pointed to the ridge behind him. Stifled groans rippled through the group. “You’ll go out together on the first mile, but once you get to the hill, I want to see what you can do. It’s your chance to make the first impression of the year. All of you.” His eyes flicked to me and Ashley, and I felt his challenge knot up in my stomach. Clearly, he (and the rest of them) thought we were a joke. I willed the knot down, like I always had, breathed deeply, and resolved to prove him wrong. He gulped his coffee. “Now get stretched out. You have five minutes.”

  Everyone backed into a large circle, and Jillian led us through a series of stretches that I did without focus as I eyed the hill that loomed above us. I had actually always liked hill runs, because you had to run up them hard and fast or else the hill beat you. Those were short, steep hills. Poles was a monster of a hill, though. All the way up, no flats or switchbacks or anything. A pure guts run. I breathed deeply through my nose, then bent to touch the ground, stretching my hamstrings.

  “All right, that’s it.” Jillian stood and shook out her legs. “Let’s go.”

  I set my jaw. Ashley gave me a nudge and a confident nod. Coach Martin blew his whistle, and we were off. The pack started at a slow, casual jog, but nobody spoke. Except for Ashley, who was on my right.

  “So.” She took a breath as our feet pounded the dirt road. “Where did you move here from anyway?”

  I kept my eyes on Jillian, who was a few runners ahead of us. “Pismo Beach. North of here.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. The pace was picking up already. Nobody had said anything, but I could definitely feel it and it was obvious that Ashley could too. “Why?” It was all she could manage at this point.

  “Dad’s job.” I looked sideways at her. She was already leaning forward, hard. Lurching actually. I continued, comfortable with our cadence. “Lifeguard supervisor. Runs Crystal Cove now. It’s why I was down there.”

  “Oh. And … what about … your mom? What … does … she do?”

  I coughed and picked up the pace, hoping to just leave the question behind. I didn’t want to explain it here, now, to someone I barely knew.

  Ashley was breathing heavily now and had started to slump her shoulders forward and tilt her chin up. I looked from her to Jillian, who looked as comfortable as I felt. We neared the base of the hill, and the incline increased with every foot strike. I felt my legs want to speed up into it.

  “So?” Ashley huffed.

  “So what?” I replied.

  “What about … your mom? What’s … she do?” When she looked over at me, I saw her carefully applied makeup beginning to melt.

  “She’s away a lot. Hey, you mind if I pick it up? I need some momentum for this hill.”

  Ashley looked relieved and immediately stopped running. “Yeah. I think I’m going to save my momentum for the top.” She fanned herself. “I’ll catch up.” She smiled. “In a few hours.”

  I nodded and accelerated, then felt the bite of the hill as it rose upward steeply. The majority of the group had done the same, and we all shifted into work mode. I looked at the peak of the hill, then put my head down and let my eyes follow the dirt trail. It wasn’t often that I ran somewhere other than the beach, with its familiar sound of the waves rolling into the shore. Here, on this hill, I could only hear the crunch of our shoes on dirt and my breathing, which had become hard and steady.

  My legs and chest burned, and I thought about why I had lied to Ashley. It was a normal enough question. It just happened to be that the answer was one that would inevitably lead to shock, then pity, and then awkward moments as she tried to figure out where to go from that point in the conversation. It was nobody’s fault. That’s just how it was. It was a relief to be able to brush it off and not go there. It dawned on me as another advantage of starting over. I didn’t need to have those moments if I didn’t want to. I could say whatever, and nobody would be the wiser. A surge of energy pushed me forward, and I approached Jillian, who had pulled ahead of the group.

  She heard my feet and looked over her shoulder. She dug in a little more, despite our hard uphill pace. I matched it. When we were shoulder to shoulder, I looked over and nodded. Her eyes flicked sideways, but she didn’t acknowledge me. The small snub was enough for me to decide I had to beat her. We leaned into the hill, at a pace that would be hard to hold the rest of the way. I picked it up ever so slightly and concentrated on controlling my breathing. When she matched me instantly, I started to regret the move.

  The two of us locked into a pace of hard resolve. My legs ached. My chest burned. I looked out of the corner of my eye, hoping to see a sign of the same fatigue in Jillian. She had her head down and seemed to be concentrating on the dirt directly in front of her, completely unaware of me. I forced myself to do the same, knowing it would take less energy. But then I felt her eyes on me, and all I wanted to do was look perfectly relaxed, perfectly at home on this hill that felt as if it stood up more vertical with each step. I glanced at the top and hoped that what I was about to do wouldn’t bite me in the ass. She was still looking at me, trying to determine how much I was hurting.

  I turned my head so that I was looking right at her, and forced my face to relax into a smile. “Hey. I heard you’re the fastest on the team.”

  She didn’t respond, except to focus her eyes straight ahead, on the peak, which was indicated by the final telephone pole.

  “So … you must have been running a long time.”

  No response.

  “Huh. Well. I’m feeling pretty good, so I’m gonna go for it now. I’ll see ya up there.” Her head shot in my direction. I took advantage and put everything into a forward surge that moved me a few paces ahead of her. I heard an out-of-breath swear and then the quickening of her feet on the dirt. I was already at a pace I could barely hold, but pride took over, and the top of the hill was just within reach, so I gave it everything I had left and focused on keeping her out of my periphery.

  Then I saw her brown hair. The rest of her frame followed, and in a second she was a footfall in front of me. Jillian looked back and smiled, then full-out sprinted the last twenty-five yards. She was walking small circles when I crossed the chalked line at the top. I wanted to crumble to the ground, but I forced myself to stagger forward and walk it off.

  Coach Martin walked over slowly, his steps measured out by the slow claps of his hands. “Well done, ladies. That was quite a battle.”

  I bent over, hands propped on my knees, and didn’t say anything. My necklace swung out from under my top and dangled, shiny and red. I just watched it and tried not to heave up my oatmeal.

  “Anna, is it? I guess you should formally meet the senior who just handed you your ass.” He turned and put a hand out. “This … is Jillian.” He turned to her. “And, Jill, you should formally meet the new girl who al
most handed you yours.”

  We looked at each other and breathed, expressionless, and waiting to see who would look down first. Then she stood up and stuck out a hand. “Good one. You run like something’s chasing you.”

  I grabbed it and managed a smile. “You were, for a few seconds.” She smiled back, and we shook once before she turned her attention to the other runners, who stepped across the chalk line. She cheered for them, hands to her mouth. Some walked it out. Others bent over. One gave me a nod. Everyone looked like they hurt.

  Coach Martin clapped his hands again. “All right, ladies. Good effort up here this morning. Hope you saved some for this afternoon, though. We’ll be doing a long, slow distance run. Head on down, get a drink, and don’t let yourselves get too tight before the afternoon. Good job.”

  We all started down the hill.

  “Anna, you got a second?” He motioned for me to step over to him, then took his glasses off. I waited.

  “What you just did back there was pretty impressive—”

  “Thanks,” I breathed, still tired out.

  “I haven’t seen Jill run like that … well, for a while. You got her guts up, and that was good to see. Nicely done. We’d be happy to have you. Now go rest up for this afternoon.”

  “Okay. Thanks, coach.” I turned on shaky legs and made my way down the hill with a vague feeling that I knew what he meant about Jillian. I was still annoyed at getting beaten, but I entertained the possibility that maybe we’d even end up friends.

  When I got to the bottom, Ashley’s car was already idling in the parking lot. I peeked in the passenger window. She lay fully reclined in the driver’s seat, almost completely covered with blue gel ice packs. She had a green eye mask over her eyes. I could hear the muffled sound of music but couldn’t quite make out what it was.

  I knocked. She didn’t startle, didn’t sit up or even uncover her eyes. She simply extended an arm and motioned languidly for me to open the door. As I did, the smell of lavender poured from the car, along with the voice of a man telling us to breath deeply into our heart centers.