You Can't Catch Me

by Cassie Mae

  “Mrs. Meyers,” the man on the close side of the table says. “You wanted some time?”

  Mrs. Meyers, Annie’s mom, stands and I perk up in my seat. Annie’s benefitted so much from Coach. Maybe I won’t have to say anything.

  “My daughter nearly starved herself from stress,” she spits out, and I shrink back into my seat. After a few harsh expletives, I let go of Mom’s hands and cover my ears. There’s so much hate, so much of it directed toward Coach’s weight, too, and it almost has me leaping from my seat just to give her a hug.

  Three more parents complain, and I turn to Mom with terrified eyes. They won’t really fire her, will they? Not over this. It’s discrimination. It’s so wrong. Coach is practically an angel. Why would this happen to her?

  Another agitated parent takes their seat. Coach’s lips are pressed together, her eyes straight forward and unblinking, as if it’s taking everything in her to keep it together. I wait for the man who’s inviting people to speak to say another name, but he gives a single nod to the woman in the middle, and she lets out a long sigh.

  “Ms. Fox, would you like to say something before we conclude?”

  Coach shakes her head, I think too unable to speak after the beating she just took, and I shoot to my feet, shaking as I grab the seat in front of me for some stability.

  “I… I need to say something.”

  The entire room shifts in my direction. The board members squint as they try to get a good look at me.

  “What’s your name?” the middle one asks.

  “Ginger Silverman.”

  You’d think I was someone famous with the reaction I get. The board woman gestures to the front where everyone else got to say their piece. I rub my hands over each other as I slide past Mom. She squeezes my arm before I head down.

  Coach smiles at me. And I try to smile back, but I’m way too nervous to do it right.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” the woman in the middle says. Her eyes are kind—encouraging almost. I start to wonder if she’s on Coach’s side, and she’s been waiting for someone to speak for her.

  “Um… I…” A wave of stage fright hits, and I look to Coach, Oliver, Mom, Hadley, anyone for strength. When it doesn’t work, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’ve already admitted this all to myself. I can do this. I can do this.

  “Coach said she was worried about me,” I say, surprising myself when I don’t stutter. “But it wasn’t that I was afraid to be myself. I was afraid… because I hated myself.”

  Coach’s eyes widen, and a fresh wave of tears builds in them. Oliver leans forward in his seat, hanging on my every word. I turn my attention to the middle woman on the board, knowing I’ll get through this tear-free if I stay glued to her. “I felt like I was being treated differently because of how I looked. My body… changed a lot. I was adjusting, but running was hard. I truly believed that because of my body, I wasn’t capable of doing what I loved.”

  I straighten my shoulders and make sure I have every single board member’s absolute attention.

  “Coach Fox is being treated this way because of how she looks. Because if she were being evaluated based off of her coaching, we wouldn’t be debating about whether or not she keeps her job. We’d be, I don’t know, giving her the Nobel Prize in Cross Country Training.”

  That gets me an amused chuckle that floats through each of the board members. Using that as a confidence boost, I keep going.

  “She taught me my value, not just as a runner, but as a teammate, a friend, a person. I placed second in State last year, and I felt like a failure.” I pause to take a breath, and I can’t help my gaze from going over to Coach. “It’s been only been a few weeks with a new way of coaching, but I know that if I don’t even make regionals, it won’t be because I’ve failed.”

  A silent tear drops from Coach’s chin, her eyes bright, and I hope I’ve erased every negative word she’s heard tonight.

  I look at the woman in the middle, her lips slightly parted as she listens to every shaky thing I’m saying.

  “Please base this decision on the right things, not just what you see. You’d be taking a job away from someone who is really, really good at it.”

  The woman studies me for a moment, a hint of a smile on her lips that is very promising. Her eyes flick to Coach for the smallest of seconds before they fall to her papers. “Thank you, Miss Silverman.”

  I take a deep breath and nod, then retrieve to my seat. Before I get halfway there, Jamal stands up. “I’d like to withdraw my complaint,” he says.

  The board woman raises a brow and pulls the list Bridget’s dad brought. “Your name?”

  “Jamal DeWolf.”

  “Reason for withdrawal?”

  He turns his head, looking directly at me for a moment before dropping his eyes in shame. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Turns out, I wasn’t.”

  Drake stands up, too. “Yep, take Drake Howland off that list, too. Same reason.”

  I chuckle in sweet relief, so grateful to have my friends back on my side. The board woman crosses the names and then looks up from her spot at the parents. “Anyone else?” she asks. The more vocal ones of the crowd shift uncomfortably in their seats. The only one who withdraws is Bridget’s dad, making the entire list pretty much useless.

  “Well, do we want to discuss, or are we ready to vote?”

  The board mumbles their assent, and the board woman straightens in her chair. I slowly lower myself back to my seat, and Mom pats my knee.

  “Beautiful, Ginger. The entire room got goose bumps.”

  I shake my head, but I’m really hoping she’s right.

  32

  May I have the Envelope, Please

  My seat is going to be covered in butt sweat. I keep wiggling around, nervously pulling at the end of my ponytail, waiting for the board woman to wrap this up. She gives a summary of all we’ve discussed, and thank heavens it sounds more positive than negative. Once everything’s considered, she finally…finally… gets to the good part.

  “All in favor of dismissal?” she asks the other board members. It’s pindroppingly quiet except for the squeal of excitement that’s rising in the back of my throat when not a single hand goes up.

  The board woman grins so wide I can finally see her teeth. “Opposed?”

  Hands rise from everywhere, including some in the audience. The woman chuckles, then locks eyes with me as her hand lowers.

  “Congratulations, Miss Silverman. Looks like you get to keep your coach.”

  33

  You Can’t Catch Me

  I get the distinct smell of cinnamon and vanilla from Coach Fox’s shampoo the moment I step outside the auditorium. Her arms are wrapped tight around my shoulders.

  “Please, please don’t hate yourself,” she says, knocking me completely off balance.

  “Coach,” I croak from underneath the weight of her hug.

  She pulls back and eyes me with the same look I get from my mom. “I mean it, Silverman.”

  I let out a breathy laugh. “I know.”

  Her stern face slides easily into the sweet one I’m more familiar with. “Thank you. I know that there’s probably more that I should say, but… thank you.”

  “I just told the truth,” I mutter, eyes drifting to Oliver, who’s coming up from behind her.

  “You did much more than that,” Coach says.

  I grin, but there’s suddenly this awkward tension in the air because I can’t seem to keep my gaze off of Oliver, and I’d like to hug him or something, but both our moms are right next to us.

  Mom slices through the tension with a swing of her arm. “I’m Ginger’s mom,” she says to Coach, shaking her hand. “Congratulations in there.”

  Coach grins, and they start going into their adulating conversation, and I feel the slightest touch against the inside of my wrist.

  I look down at the sticky note Oliver’s stuck to my skin.

  Outside for a minute?

  My butter
flies pull the corner of my lips up, and I nod, letting him lead me out a side door and into one of the many school courtyards. It’s not long after we’re away from the bustle going on inside that his arms are around me, too.

  “Please don’t hate yourself,” he says, squeezing me extra tight.

  I let out a laugh over his shoulder. “Geez, is that the only part of my epic speech that anyone heard? Because I had some really good stuff in th—”

  And his lips are on mine. It happens so suddenly my eyes are still wide open when he pulls away.

  “S-sorry,” he sputters. His hands are on my cheeks. When did they get on my cheeks? And can they stay there forever? “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now, and it all just kinda came out at once.”

  My mouth splits open into a wide grin. “Can you do it again?”

  I didn’t think it was possible to kiss and smile at the same time, but we pull it off nicely.

  He lets out a satisfied sigh that sends tingles up and down my spine. His hands slowly trail from my cheeks down to my palms, and we interlock our fingers.

  “I didn’t even have to use the recording,” I tell him.

  He grins and rests his forehead against mine. “Yeah, we both know it wasn’t just about your time. Thanks for saying that so bluntly.”

  “Subtle really isn’t my style.” I laugh. “You want to watch it again?”

  He nods, and I snake my hand into my bra where I’ve kept my phone all night. Yep, I’ve found a good use for the Sharpies. I think we’re becoming friends.

  I hit the play button on the run I did this morning. I’m waving from my starting point, and I tell Oliver, who’s recording, the date and tell him to get the timer ready. His hand comes in the shot, holding a stopwatch.

  “Run, run, run,” he teases on the video. I give him a sly look over my shoulder.

  “You can’t catch me!” I say, and he hits the timer, and I take off.

  I remember saying it, but I didn’t realize till now just how wrong I was. I snuggle into his warmth, stretching my lips up to his, and we ignore the rest of the video where I went even faster than the time Coach recorded.

  He’s totally caught me, but that was inevitable, right? After all, he is a Fox.

  This is not an Epilogue

  Just kidding. It totally is.

  The sun is scorching today, and the track is wet from the previous run where water from water bottles and sweat have mated and created babies. I blow out a breath, gazing down at the fresh sheen across my chest. Two more runs to go, and if I do it, I’m on to State. Again.

  Coach Fox waves me over to the sidelines, shaking a water bottle at me. I quickly take a swig and lean in to listen.

  “It’s just you out there, remember, Silverman.” She smiles. “Mom and Dad aren’t watching. I’m not here. The rest of the team is at home eating gummy bears.”

  “Those bums,” I tease. I hear Drake and Jamal whoop from behind Coach.

  She puts a hand on my shoulder, not minding my B.O. “You and the track. Go to that zone, Ginger.”

  I nod, sweat dribbling from my forehead. I shake out my limbs and jog my way over to my lane, waving at my family, Tiff, and Oliver as I pass them.

  “Okay,” I say, concentrating on my breathing. I gaze down at the track under my feet, then silently compliment my body.

  You’re a runner, I tell it. You are kickbutt amazing, and you can do anything.

  I take another deep breath, letting my thoughts build more and more confidence in me. When the other schools line up next to me, my grin widens, and I take my position. All sound fades, everyone around me disappears.

  It’s just me and my body. And we got this.

  Dear Reader,

  There are many times, even now as an “adult,” that I look in the mirror and only see flaws. “Mind over Body” was the hardest chapter to write, simply because as humans, we’re taught to believe that finding beauty in yourself is toeing the line of arrogance. In order to write that chapter, I admit, I did something very embarrassing—I acted it out first. But not as Ginger. As myself.

  It took me a long time to compliment each part of my body. I wanted to poke fun of myself, and even though I was alone, I felt abashed at admitting that I have great hair or that I like my bellybutton.

  By the end of my experiment though, I discovered something much more beautiful inside of me—an unknown strength I wasn’t aware I had. It’s my wish that everyone else experiences that too. Because I know you’re beautiful.

  So take the time to compliment yourselves, and not just the parts that are your “go-tos.” Compliment the parts you feel are flawed. Remind yourself often.

  Love and hugs,

  Cassie Mae

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you, reader, for sticking through all the boob talk and getting to this page.

  Thank you, Cadbury, for rewarding me after every chapter with a delicious treat.

  Thank you, doggy slippers, for keeping my toes warm enough to sit in my cold office.

  Thank you, Awesome Nerds, for doing what you do best—posting pictures of sexy guys in glasses.

  Thank you, Suzi, for doing some crazy voodoo magic on this book. Your editing skills are—as Ginger would put it—the shiznit.

  Thank you, Theresa, Jolene, Rachel, and Jenny for reading Ginger on such a tight schedule. Readers have you all to thank for the extended Oliver scenes.

  Thank you, Beta Peeps, for always being there to provide me with fuzzy ball parties when I need them.

  Thank you, Makeready Designs, because seriously… look at my freaking gorgeous cover.

  Thank you, Mommy, for loving this book more than any other. That already makes me feel like a winner, even though I’ve yet to hit publish.

  Thank you, stomach, for being able to handle gluten. (And love and respect to those stomachs that can’t.)

  Thank you, Jenny, for bringing me an entire cheesecake when I randomly asked for one.

  Thank you, Ginger, for showing me what it meant to truly love yourself.

  Thank you, Lenore, for holding my hand through everything—the good, the bad, the fun. This book, in particular, I wrote to tell people like you and me that we are freaking amazeballs.

  Thank you, children, for the hugs, kisses, and for letting me read this book to you as a bedtime story. One day, you’ll understand the jokes. You’re welcome for the early trauma.

  And finally, thank you to my husband, who doesn’t mind having a wife with giant Sharpies. (Yeah… his exact words.)

  Want more from Cassie Mae?

  Young Adult

  Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend

  Friday Night Alibi

  Secret Catch

  YA Series

  How to Date a Nerd

  How to Seduce a Band Geek

  How to Hook a Bookworm

  King Sized Beds and Happy Trails

  Beach Side Beds and Sandy Paths

  Lonesome Beds and Bumpy Roads

  True Love and Magic Tricks

  New Adult

  Switched

  The Real Thing

  Unexpectedly You

  Adult Series

  Doing It for Love

  No Interest in Love

  Crazy About Love (available June 2016)

  Anthologies

  Get Lucky (A YA Anthology)

  Curl Up with a Cowboy (A Cowboy Romance Anthology)

  Coming Soon!

  Broken Records

  About the Author

  Cassie Mae (who dons the name Becca Ann on occasion) is the author of a few hundred… okay, maybe not that many… books. Some of which became popular for their quirky titles, characters, and stories. She likes writing about nerds, geeks, the awkward, the fluffy, the short, the shy, the loud, the fun.

  Since publishing her bestselling debut, Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend, she has published and sold books to Random House, Swoon Romance, and is the founder of CookieLynn Publishing Services. She is represented
by Sharon Pelletier at Dystel and Goderich Literary Management. She has a favorite of all her book babies, but no, she won’t tell you what it is. (Mainly because it changes depending on the day.)

  Along with writing, Cassie likes to binge watch Once Upon A Time and The Flash. She can quote Harry Potter lines quick as a whip. And she likes kissing her hubby, but only if his facial hair is trimmed. She also likes cheesecake to a very obsessive degree.

  You can stalk, talk, or send pictures of Luke Bryan to her on her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/cassiemaeauthor

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