by Ali Dean
I start to jog while reaching back for Zoe to hand off the baton. When I feel the metal hit my palm, I grasp it in my hand. And take off.
Two laps around the track – half a mile – is the shortest distance I ever race. I think of it as a controlled sprint. I’m running hard – almost a sprint – but holding back just enough that I don’t collapse after one lap.
As I come around the turn to the straightaway after the first lap, I catch the anchor for the second place team. Coach calls out my split – 66 – when I pass through at one lap. My lungs are already burning – the kind of burn I only feel when I’m running an 800.
I’m starting to lap runners from teams that are farther behind, and with all the other runners I can’t quite make out how far ahead the girl in first place is. She’s from Denver West – the team that’s won the state track title for the past two years – and I look for their gold and black jersey.
I pass three more runners who are only on their first lap of the anchor before I see the Denver West uniform. The runner is tiny, but her legs are moving fast. The noise from the crowd picks up when she passes the 600-meter mark and I’m right behind her. I don’t even listen to my split, forgetting that the main point of this race is to hit the qualifying standard. When there’s a close race like this, I just want to win. It’s instinct.
The fun thing about track is you just never know what might be up the competition’s sleeve. In cross, you run with someone for a while, and you can get a sense for how tired they are. On the track, someone might look like they’ve got nothing left, and then they bust out with a final sprint in the last ten meters.
This girl is still going strong as I sidle up to her into the last straightaway. She could have no kick in her at all, or leave me in the dust. All I can do is crank it up a notch and hope it’s enough.
My lungs are on fire but I pump my arms and reach deep for another surge of energy. I start to move ahead of her and she responds with a surge of her own. But I don’t let up, and she doesn’t have enough speed to drop me. I give it one last push and leave her behind as I cross through the finish.
My teammates pat me on the back, ensuring that we hit the qualifying standard. It’s nice to get that out of the way early on. But there’s nothing that compares to winning a race. It feels good to be back in the game.
Chapter 9
The DMR is the last race of the day, and we qualify for State with time to spare. Unfortunately, I don’t pull through for the win, and we take third. After the exhilarating win in the 4 x 800, I got it in my head that maybe I can live up to people’s expectations. But when I only passed one other team in the DMR, I knew I’d let everyone down.
What happened between the two races today to make it so I did well in one and not so great in the other? That’s the million-dollar question. I have no idea why I raced inconsistently and that’s what leaves me so upset. Was it the announcer calling me “the Brockton High Phenomenon” that freaked me out? Or was I just tired from racing earlier? Maybe it’s because I’m on my period. Who knows?
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Zoe tells me as we get on the bus for the ride home. “You still ran a faster split than I’ll ever run.”
I swallow. That’s the last thing anyone wants to hear when they have a bad race. It makes me feel even worse because I come off as a jerk for being bummed about the race in the first place. But every track runner knows it’s not really about how you compare to others. We’re disappointed when we don’t reach our potential. And all of our potentials are different. I know what mine is. And I didn’t reach it today.
Or did I? I don’t know what my potential is anymore. Is it what other people are saying about me? That I’m unbeatable? Unstoppable? No. That’s not true. I’m just a normal girl who’s got some talent. I may already have peaked out.
I sigh and listen to the others talk about their Saturday night plans. Jace texted me that he’s going to the Rockies game with his dad and Wes after his baseball game. The three of them hang out a lot together these days. I’m happy that Wes is getting some time with the dad he never had, but I feel a little left out.
Zoe and Charlie are going on a date. Rollie invited people over to his house for pizza but I’m not really in the mood to hang out with my running buddies at the moment. I know they mean well, but I’m tired of deflecting questions about racing and listening to everyone’s expectations for me.
My phone rings and I see it’s Gran. Maybe she’ll be in the mood to lay low and watch a movie with me when she gets back from Royal Feathers – a casino a couple of hours from Brockton.
“Hi, baby girl! How was the meet?”
“It was okay. What’s up? You win big?” Gran never wins big because she only plays the slot machines. But I always ask.
“Fifty big ones! And Lulu won a hundred so she’s taking me out to dinner. You’ll be okay scrounging for dinner, right? We had a few too many cocktails so we’re going to spend the night.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem, Gran.”
Zoe nudges me in the ribs when I hang up the phone. “What did Buns have to say? You look bummed.”
“She’ll be out tonight, so it’s too bad Jace is hanging out with his Dad. That’s all.”
Zoe wiggles her eyebrows. “Ah… missing an opportunity to have the house to yourself. Yup. Bummer indeed.” She smacks her lips. I know her alone-time opportunities with Charlie are limited, and she hasn’t spilled too many of the details. She has four younger brothers and sisters, and an over-protective father. As far as I know, Zoe’s still in the V club with me.
After a hot bath, I slip on cozy sweatpants and search the cupboards for something to eat for dinner. Even though Dave is by my side as I wait for water to boil for mac and cheese, I can’t help but feel lonely.
I’ve never dwelled on my family situation much before. My parents died before I was old enough to have memories of them. It usually doesn’t make me feel sad, because I was too young to experience the sense of loss that normally goes with parents dying. It’s been just me and Gran for as long as I can remember. And Wes and Jace, who also had incomplete families. Sure, Wes had both his parents, but we all understood even as kids that they weren’t like normal parents.
We spent a lot of time at Wesley’s house growing up because he had the pool, the trampoline, and all the other fun stuff that goes with being wealthy. But I only ever met Mr. Jamison a couple of times. He was always away for work. Mrs. Jamison was supposedly around, but we rarely saw her. She had a busy social agenda, from what I remember. She didn’t work, but was always off at a luncheon or some event at the country club. Wesley grew up with nannies taking care of him.
Jace had Jim, who can best be described as “the cool dad”. Jim took us to do fun stuff, and wasn’t much of a disciplinarian. We ate sloppy joes or hot dogs for dinner when he was in charge. There has always been a noticeable lack of maternal influence in the Wilder household.
So it never felt incomplete having Gran as my only parent. Between Wes, Jace and Jim, it was like having a complete family. And now that Wes is back in our lives, shouldn’t I be feeling that sense of completeness again?
As I mix noodles and cheese together in a pot, my self-pity shifts to anger. If we were supposed to be each other’s family, how could they just decide to break apart while leaving me in the dark? I was miserable the year that Jace and Wes started high school. My best friends went off to high school while I was stuck in the eighth grade. I hadn’t discovered running yet, and the girls who befriended me – Tina Anderson and Dana Foster – were social climbers who were just using me to get to Wes and Jace. But most of all, I’d lost one of my closest friends and I had no idea what had broken apart what I had once thought of as my family.
Why didn’t Wes fight to stay my friend at least, even if he and Jace weren’t? Why didn’t Jace explain to me what was going on instead of blocking me out? His popularity at Brockton Public meant he had less and less time to hang out with me. He hadn’t written me o
ff like Wes had, but lonely Saturday nights became a regular occurrence. The boys no longer came over in their pajamas for movie night. And to top it off, Jim and Gran knew what was going on but neither of them filled me in.
Sighing, I take a bite of mac and cheese and flick a few noodles on the floor for Dave.
The quiet apartment on a Saturday night reminds me of all those times in the eighth grade, when I felt rejected and didn’t know why. Freshman year, I discovered running and made new friends with my teammates, and the pain of losing our imperfect happy family gradually lessened.
But the wound got ripped back open from time to time. I remember working at the Tavern one summer night after freshman year. Jace was at a table with a bunch of guys on the football team, and I was bussing tables. When Wesley walked in with his parents, my eyes darted to Jace, who was glaring at the Jamison family in anger. Wes passed me on his way to the table but didn’t acknowledge me. It broke my heart all over again. Jace never stopped glaring their way, and eventually he stormed out of the restaurant without saying goodbye. By that point, I’d stopped asking questions.
Now, a fresh wound had been inflicted. That Jace and Wes were brothers explained some of the reasoning for the hurt I went through years ago, but it also makes me feel pushed aside all over again.
A knock on the door startles me from my thoughts. Ryan Harding is the last person I expect to see when I open it. Freshly showered, and wearing dark-wash jeans and a UC hoodie. With his dimpled smile, it’s no wonder I fell for him when he moved to Brockton at the beginning of the school year. Despite years of feelings developed for Jace, Ryan managed to find a special place in my heart.
“Hi, Pepper.”
“Hi.” Heat rises to my cheeks when I remember that I haven’t really spoken with him since he saw me collapse on the trail a couple of months ago. Sure, I see him at practice and at school on the time. But it’s hard to know how to act around an ex-boyfriend, especially one I still care about so much.
“I was wondering if we could maybe talk?” he asks, almost shyly.
“Sure.” I open the door wider. “Want some mac and cheese?” I offer, before taking another bite from the bowl still in my hands.
“I’m good.” Ryan pats Dave before settling on a kitchen stool. It’s been months since he’s been at my apartment, and it’s weird having him here now that we’re both dating other people.
“So, great races today in the relays,” I compliment him, but it just comes out sounding awkward.
“Thanks, you too.” Okay, now it’s even more awkward. Because I didn’t really race well and we both know it. Unless maybe he’s referring to my first race.
“Want anything to drink?” I offer. “I think there are some beers in the fridge.” I assume he’ll decline, but he doesn’t. Since apparently he’s staying for more than a quick minute, I open a beer for myself as well. Maybe if we’re both having a drink this won’t be so brutally uncomfortable.
“So, how have you been feeling?” Ryan asks with his eyes lowered to his beer bottle.
“You mean, after the crazy blizzard run?”
He glances up and nods with a small smile.
“I was fine after a good night’s sleep and a couple days off from running. But I’m guessing you aren’t talking about my physical well-being?” I ask with raised eyebrows.
He frowns in concern. “No, I am.” He swallows and shifts in his seat. “I mean, I guess I could tell you didn’t get sick or anything and you ran well at practice and stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly. “So yeah, maybe I’m more concerned with why you were out there running like that in the first place?” He hasn’t exactly asked a question but the tone of his voice tells me he’s trying to get answers.
I slide onto the stool next to him and take a sip of my beer, trying to decide what to tell him. He isn’t here for gossip, or to get in the middle of me and Jace. Ryan’s never had anything but good intentions, but he won’t be getting the truth out of me.
“It’s complicated, Ryan.” There’s not much to say without implying that it has something to do with me and Jace, which is inappropriate given Ryan is my ex-boyfriend. Besides, it’s bigger than just a boyfriend problem.
Ryan turns to face me. “I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just concerned, Pepper. That really freaked me out. You were white as a ghost and falling over when I saw you out there. And I can tell your head’s not into it with track. I’ve watched you at practice,” he pauses, blushing at how the statement sounds a little stalker-ish. “You’re running well, but you just seem bummed out sometimes. If it’s about running, you can talk to me.”
Well, there’s that too. But I don’t want to talk about it. Because I don’t know what it is.
Ryan puts his hand on the back of my chair. “Look, Pepper. I know things are different between us but that doesn’t mean I’m not here for you if you need someone to talk to. About anything. Not just running.”
“Thanks, Ryan. I’ll remember that.” But I don’t make him the same offer. It’s not that I wouldn’t be there for him too, but this conversation is already a bit too intimate given the circumstances. “Now, I assume you were on your way to do something more exciting than sitting here with me and Dave on Saturday night.”
Ryan laughs. “Not really. I’ve gotten a couple texts about stuff going on, but there’s nothing big happening. I think people are taking it easy after the parties at Remy’s and Wesley’s last weekend.” He hesitates a moment before adding, “Plus, Wesley and Jace are at the Rockies game tonight.” He doesn’t need to explain the significance of that fact. If those two aren’t going to be around, people are less motivated to party.
The front door opens again and Dave scrambles around the kitchen counter to greet Jace and Wes. Speak of the devils.
They call out hello and kick off their shoes before glancing up to see Ryan sitting next to me. Technically, Ryan and Jace are friends, but it’s only because they run in the same group with Remy, Ben and Connor.
Jace’s smile flattens. “I’m not going to lie, man. It’s sort of fucked up that you’re hanging out with my girlfriend. Alone.” So he’s going to blame this on Ryan instead of me. Fair enough. Ryan’s the one who came over unannounced, after all.
Ryan jumps up from his stool to confront Wes and Jace. Their stances are intimidating, and I’m impressed that Ryan doesn’t stutter in his response. “Sorry if it looks sketchy, Jace. I was just talking to Pepper about running stuff but was on my way to meet up with some guys on the track team.” Ryan turns to me and asks, “I take it you’re not going to Rollie’s, then?” I have a feeling Ryan had no intention of going to Rollie’s before this moment, but in an effort to ease the tension, I play along like the track party was the reason Ryan came by.
“Nope. I need a break from running talk.”
“You sure, Pep?” Jace asks in a hard voice. “Go if you want to.” Okaaay, so he is taking this out on me too.
I roll my eyes at his jealous antics, trying to make it seem like this is no big deal. It isn’t, right?
“You guys want a beer?” I ask Wes and Jace as I make my way to the fridge, just for something to do. When I pass Jace, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek, hoping it will loosen that clenched jaw.
Wes looks equally menacing, and once again I’m struck by the resemblance between them. There’s too much testosterone for our tiny kitchen. It’s a relief when Ryan leaves a moment later, his beer still sitting mostly full on the counter.
I hand two bottles to Wes and Jace and sit back down on the counter.
“Did you guys eat dinner? I’m probably going to finish off the mac and cheese but I can make another box.”
Jace ignores my attempt to brush off what just happened. He puts his hands on the counter with his arms on either side of me, caging me in. Out of the corner of my eye I watch Wes lean against the wall, watching us.
“Did you invite him over because you thought I’d be out all night at the game?” he asks softly.
/> I narrow my eyes. “Don’t be an asshole, Jace.”
“What do you expect me to think? It felt like shit every time I saw you with him when you two were together. Now you’re finally my girlfriend and I still have to see you looking all cozy with him?”
“We weren’t ‘all cozy’, Jace. I hardly ever talk to Ryan anymore. Don’t make it into something it’s not.”
Jace shakes his head and pushes away from the counter. He takes a long sip of beer as he walks away from me, down the hall. Our apartment isn’t big enough for him to pace and he returns a moment later. He shoots me a hard look before turning back around and sitting on the couch in the living room.
My eyes swing to Wes, who gives me a look that says, Well, what did you expect?
I shrug. Jace doesn’t exactly have true ex-girlfriends because he’s never been monogamous, but if I swung by unexpectedly and saw, say, Madeline Brescoll, sitting next to him in his kitchen, I’d feel pretty shitty about it. But then again, Madeline’s a witch with no potential for platonic relationships and Ryan’s a good guy and my teammate.
Still.
Jace’s reaction is fair, and I should be understanding.
I settle in next to him on the couch and he hits the channels on the remote, ignoring me. When I snuggle up next to him, he’s forced to glance my way. I wrap my arms around his waist.
“I’m sorry. There’s absolutely nothing funny going on with me and Ryan, okay? Please don’t be mad.”
