Misplaced

by Murray, Lee

  ‘Did she? Yes, that sounds like Wynn. If I know her, she probably complained about the lunch menu.’ Adam grins at this rare glimpse of the old Grandpa. Chuckling, Grandpa says: ‘My daughter came to see me, too.’

  Adam’s face falls. ‘I don’t think so, Grandpa,’ he says, carefully. ‘I’m pretty sure Mum didn’t come in to see you today.’

  But Grandpa insists: ‘Oh, yes, she always comes to see me. She comes every day. Never misses. She’s a good girl, Tiffany.’

  Luckily, Adam is rescued from answering. The woman has arrived with their tea.

  Chapter 13

  On Tuesday afternoon when Adam turns up to the school track for practice, Mr Penny is just leaving. Seeing him, Adam’s face burns. The story of Adam’s meltdown is all over the school. Monday morning a kid from Year 9 had come up to Adam after form class, adopted this stupid limp-wristed pose, said, Ooh là là, then took off. His pulse racing, Adam had ignored the jibe. Right now, though, nobody’s near enough to notice his embarrassment. Kieran and the others are already out on the track warming up.

  Adam sees Reece glance across as he drops his gear at the base of the stands. An Arthur Lydiard disciple, Reece is of the ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ philosophy. Short and muscular, the guys on the team call him the Bulldog, but only behind his back. Reece is a good coach. The stats speak for themselves. His first season, the team won a couple of regional titles and a place in the nationals. Shoulders bunched, Reece makes a show of scribbling something on his clipboard before making his way over. Adam crouches to tighten his laces.

  ‘All right, mate?’ Not his usual bulldog bark. Mr Penny must’ve mentioned the hissy fit. Adam wonders if it’d be easier for everyone if he had ‘Handle With Care’ tattooed on his forehead. He forces down a wave of annoyance. They’re only trying to help.

  ‘Yeah thanks, Reece. I’m okay.’ Adam stands up and, facing out towards the track, twists his torso left and right.

  ‘Kieran tells me you’re having a bit of a tough time of it. We weren’t sure you’d make it tonight.’

  ‘You know Kieran, he talks too much. Anyway, you said three strikes and we’re out.’

  ‘A strike would be when you miss a practice because you’d rather be hanging out in a mate’s garage playing Xbox, that sort of thing. This is different. You don’t have to...’ Adam can’t bear it. Reece is killing him with kindness. He’s the bulldog. He should growl!

  Cutting the coach off, Adam says: ‘Nah, that’s okay. I want to train. I don’t want to let the guys down.’

  Reece folds his arms, the clipboard pressed flat against his chest. ‘Good man,’ he says.

  ‘Anyway, I think maybe it’ll help with the waiting.’

  ‘Good man,’ Reece says again. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. What say you get yourself out there and warm up? The others already have a kilometre on you.’

  Adam lopes onto the track, taking it easy at first. Apart from some wanton pummelling of Kieran’s punch-bag and a frenzied run in the rain, this’ll be the first proper exercise he’s done for weeks. The last thing he needs is an injury. As it is, tomorrow he’ll probably suffer from DOMS: delayed onset muscle soreness, the muscle aches you get from overdoing it at training and which Kieran calls DUMS since only dumb wits would work out that hard. Adam deliberately jogs behind the bunch for a couple of laps, then picks up his pace to catch them up.

  ‘Hey man,’ Jared says when Adam comes alongside, their running shoes beating a parallel cadence on the track. As tall as Adam and with nonchalant Keith Urban style, Jared’s the school Sports Captain. He’s also legendary for managing to grow a decent moustache in Year 12.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘What did Henny-Penny want?’ Kieran says from over Adam’s left shoulder.

  ‘He was warning Reece there’s a dangerous psychopath on the team. Could flip out any time.’

  ‘You must mean Mikey,’ Jared says. ‘I hear he’s flipped out over Felicity Graham.’ Running alongside Jared, Adam can’t see his team-mate’s face, but he imagines Jared is grinning.

  ‘What’s that?’ At the back of the group, Mikey has heard his name.

  ‘I was just telling Adam about Ants’ party,’ Jared lies, pulling wide into Lane 3 so Mikey can move through the group of runners.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Mikey enthuses, unaware of the subterfuge. ‘Ants’ party. It’s gonna be great. It’s not this Friday, but the week after,’ Mikey huffs. ‘Ants’ olds are clearing out for the weekend. Me and Jared are organising the booze.’ One of the few occasions when having your parents disappear can be an advantage, Adam thinks.

  ‘Hey, Mikey, can I come?’ This from Hughey.

  ‘Sorry, mate. Year 13s only.’

  ‘Aw.’

  ‘So who’s going?’ Callum asks as the pack of boys take the curve at the far end of the track.

  ‘Some of Ants’ surfie mates, the guys in his form class, us, and some of the girls have said they’ll come too,’ Mikey says. ‘So, how about it? You guys in?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, why not?’ Callum says.

  ‘Adam?’

  ‘I don’t know. It depends.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Sorry. Probably depends on whether they find your mum.’ Not the guys, too. Treating him like he’s made of crystal.

  ‘I’ll come...’ Adam says, ‘if someone beats me back!’ He accelerates, hoofing it away from the rest of the team.

  ‘Hey! No fair!’ Caught on the hop, Mikey gives up immediately, but Kieran isn’t the sort to let a challenge go unanswered. He sprints away in pursuit of Adam, as does Jared. The boys give it everything, three abreast, two tall and one shorter, pounding it out for two hundred metres while their team-mates shout encouragements from behind them. Reece’s wave to come in signals the last hundred metres of the race. Time to finish it! Adam notches up his pace, pumping his arms and using his Creighton never-fail in-in-out breathing pattern. His legs are scorching.

  Nearly there...

  In the next lane, Adam’s best mate matches him stride for stride, the final burst of speed too hot for Jared, who drops back.

  ‘Dig it in, man,’ Kieran huffs, egging them both on. Together, the pair dash for the line, finishing in a heap. Photo finish. Lacking digital evidence, Adam and Kieran look to Reece for confirmation of the winner, but the coach merely shrugs.

  ‘Dead heat,’ Kieran laughs. ‘High five!’

  ‘Looks like we need to do some work on lunging for the line,’ Reece comments from the sideline. ‘Terrible technique. A decent lunge and there might’ve been a clear winner. Anyway, if you’re quite finished playing, we’re going to do some resisted running. Pair up! Pick someone about the same height and weight as you...’

  Adam pairs up with Jared. Coming in third, Jared’s standing right there, and they’re about the same build. By rights, Kieran and Mikey should team up, but since Kieran and Felicity used to be an item, and Mikey and Felicity are currently an item, social etiquette demands they step away from each other. Instead, Kieran pairs with up Callum, and Mikey with Jase. Reece gives each pair of runners a flat elastic band, tied in a loop.

  ‘You are NOT Robin Hood. Anyone who thinks he is will be outlawed from this session. Got it?’ A younger boy flushes pink. He’d been holding his band like a slingshot. His partner snatches up the band accusingly. Reece explains the drill: ‘Both partners step inside the loop. One member of the pair will run a short distance while the other provides resistance. We’ll be going for efforts of thirty to forty metres.’ He gets inside a band with Hughey and demonstrates the technique.

  ‘Okay, line up in pairs along the start line. Jase, take a cone up the track. About thirty metres.’ He waves a hand impatiently. ‘No, not that far. Stop level with the stands. Great. Right, let’s get going. Ten reps each.’ The workout underway, Reece barks instructions from the sidelines: ‘Not too much resistance,’ he shouts, ‘I don’t want to see those bands overstretched. They shouldn’t extend more than double their normal length. And be care
ful with them, if they ping they could take out an eye... For goodness sake, he’s not a slave pulling a pyramid stone, Finn. Resist just enough to make him work...’

  The last pair in the line, Adam strains against Jared’s body weight, enjoying the pressure of the band at his waist and the fire in his quads. But the efforts are too short. It’s Reader’s Digest running. No sooner has Adam got into his stride, he’s already covered the distance. Each truncated burst tries his patience more. When they swap over and it’s Jared’s turn to put in the effort, it’s even worse.

  Stop, start, stop, start.

  Driving him nuts.

  When they’ve all completed ten resisted sprints, Reece collects in the bands and makes them do a series of lateral line jumps, then straight leg stride outs, eight sets of ab exercises, a two-lap warm down and stretches.

  All around Adam the team members are pulling on their sweatshirts. The work-out is finished, but Adam is still itching to go. Reece calls them in for some last announcements.

  ‘Right, listen up boys. Don’t forget we’ve got our training boot camp coming up in the second weekend of the school holidays. Most of you have already got your permission slips in to the office, but there are still one or two outstanding—Mikey, this means you.’ Reece points his pen in Mikey’s direction. ‘Final payments are due in Friday after next. Please make sure when you’re handing them in to the office that you put your name and Athletics Boot Camp on the envelope. This is important, or you might find yourself in Wellington performing with Mrs Jeffares’ Jazz Ballet troupe—Mikey, again, this means you.’ Everyone laughs. Reece goes on. ‘Jared, Kieran, can you guys put the gear back in the gym before you leave? Tidily! I don’t want Mr Dwight upset with me as he is somewhat larger.’ There is more laughter. If Reece is a bulldog, Mr Dwight is a great dane. ‘Good workout tonight, everyone. I want to see you filling out those training schedules. Remind me again why that would be, Mikey?’

  ‘Um. Because you want to see us suffer, Coach?’

  Reece laughs. ‘Excellent. Another reason?’

  ‘So we can beat the team from Boys’ College, Coach?’ Hughey offers.

  ‘I’d like that, too. Another reason?’ Reece waves his pen around, ready to pinpoint the next speaker.

  ‘Conditioning. Working out will make us stronger, and the extra running will give us endurance and stamina.’ Reece stabs the air in Jared’s direction.

  ‘Good answer, Jared. Someone was listening last week. Anything else?’

  ‘You wanna be coach of the year?’ pipes up Kieran.

  ‘You bet I do.’

  ‘Keeps us out of trouble?’ This time the pen alights on Jase.

  ‘Another good answer. It’s what I’ve been telling your parents all along and what you should remind them when you’re asking them to stump up for our weekend boot camp. Tell them it’s better value than bail. Any other reason?’ There’s a collective moan. Everyone’s run out of ideas, so Reece supplies the answer himself. ‘Having the commitment and discipline to keep to a schedule is a valuable skill that will serve you for the rest of your lives. Some day, you’re all going to have jobs and mortgages—yes, even you Mikey. No one gets anything out of life without hard work and commitment.’

  ‘Except Paris Hilton,’ Kieran quips.

  Everyone laughs.

  ‘Okay, piss off you lot. See you next week.’ The team moves off, everyone eager to be done for the day. Adam hangs back while the coach stoops to pick up his clipboard.

  ‘You okay, Adam?’ Adam’s irritation mounts. More cotton wool treatment.

  ‘I was thinking about running a few more laps. Maybe get one of those boxes ticked off ahead of time.’ He hugs his arms to his body, cooling off quickly now the session is over.

  Holding the clipboard under one arm, Reece shifts his weight to one leg and looks out over the running track. ‘But you’ve already worked out, Adam. You need time to recover. Your legs are tired. Training causes micro-tears in the muscle filaments. It’s repair of those fibres that creates stronger musculature.’

  ‘I just need to run.’

  Reece nods, bringing his eyes back to Adam. ‘Cabin fever?’

  ‘Sort of. I have all this... energy... I need to get rid of. Kieran says I need to get laid.’

  Reece hoots. ‘Ha! Does he now?’ He shakes his bulldog head, jowls wobbling with laughter. ‘So, is getting laid on the cards?’ Adam cocks his head to one side and pulls a face. ‘I’ll take that as a no. Go on, then. Five kilometres max. Run your heart out.’

  Adam takes off.

  Chapter 14

  Tauranga’s Wharepai Domain is a park on the northern end of an isthmus between two estuaries and close to the city centre. Tourist information has it listed as the “city’s historic playground”. Fronted by imposing 1921 War Memorial gates, the park was once graced by white wooden fences, flower beds and a band rotunda. Today, it offers a variety of top sports facilities, rugby and cricket fields, bowls and croquet grounds, and children’s playground equipment surrounded by mature trees. When Adam was a kid, Mum used to bring him to the playground; this afternoon he’s here to use the all-weather track to tick off another of Reece’s training boxes.

  As a warm-up, Adam does a loop of the rugby grounds before starting on some drills on the track: grapevine first, some skipping and then stride-outs. When he’s warm, he takes off his thermal and stretches, holding each stretch for several seconds. His muscles are sore. Hardly surprising. Today’s workout calls for ten circuits of four hundred metres each. At 80% of all-out effort. But after yesterday’s thrashing, Adam’s legs are sore. He plans to do just eight and tick the box anyway. Who’s going to know?

  He blitzes the first lap, pushing out hard, pumping his arms. Feeling fresh. Coming through two hundred metres, Adam sees a girl crossing the track up ahead of him, her small frame swamped by the bulk of her school bag. Adam recognises her from his English class. Skyla? She usually sits at the back. Skinny. Dark hair. Adam digs it in for the final sixty metres. A few strides past the finish line, Adam leans over, hands on his knees, puffing noisily. He checks out the girl in his peripheral vision. She’s had a long walk home from school with that heavy bag. He’s surprised when she peels off from her original course, climbs the concrete steps to the covered stands and settles herself four rows back. Adam starts his second effort. This circuit is usually Adam’s sharpest; he’s warmed up, but still fresh. This time when he passes the two hundred metre mark, he glances up into the stands. The girl has taken a book out of her backpack and, with her feet resting on the back of the seat in front, she’s flicking through the pages, her face a picture of concentration. She’s not looking at him but, just in case, Adam gives it everything down the home straight. Third time, he thinks she might have chanced a peek over the pages of her book. Fourth lap, he’s still not convinced, so he takes another gawk as he rounds the top curve. But running as close as he can to the inside lane, Adam forgets the steeplechase water feature. His ankle clips the side of the hollow. He goes down like Felicity Graham’s knickers. A moment of stillness follows, with Adam on his back staring up at the sky feeling like a total arse. He tucks his chin to his chest and takes a brief look up in the stands.

  Bummer.

  The girl is waving. She’s putting her book in her backpack and is coming down to meet him.

  Shit.

  He can hardly ignore her now.

  Adam grits his teeth and stands up before he’s ready. His eyes water. Looking down to inspect his knee, he discovers a gash bisecting a wider graze. He must have caught his knee on the edge of the concrete. Adam sticks his hand over the wound, hoping to staunch the blood, but instead gets it smeared all over the place.

  ‘Hi, Adam.’

  ‘Hi... Skyla.’

  ‘Skye.’ Bugger.

  ‘Oh yeah, sorry. Skye.’

  ‘You okay? I saw you fall from up in the stands. Give us a squiz at your leg.’

  ‘It’s nothing much. A scratch.’ But a rivulet o
f blood snakes down his leg and dribbles inside his running sock.

  ‘Euw. Wanna come back to my place? I can put something on that, if you like.’

  ‘Nah, really. It’s okay. I’m good.’

  ‘It’s no worries. I live just over there.’ She points in the direction of the old rose gardens. ‘One block over.’ Adam considers his options. There’s no one at home, and lately Dad has been working late at the yard trying to catch up on lost sales. But the thought of a well-intentioned mum or sister fawning over the poor motherless baby he is...

  ‘It’ll just be us,’ Skye continues, as if reading his mind. ‘My mum works at Farmers Trading in town. She doesn’t get home until after six, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘It’s not...’

  ‘And I’m not one of those girls obsessed by vampires, so this blood you’re dripping everywhere isn’t turning me on either.’

  ‘Why?’ Adam retorts. ‘Not your blood type?’

  She throws her eyes to the sky. ‘That was so fail.’

  ‘Sorry. Lack of blood to the brain.’ That was just as bad. He throws her his hang-dog look. She ignores it.

  ‘So you’ll come?’ Suddenly, the thought of going home doesn’t appeal. It occurs to Adam that he needs to step out of his life, out of reality, just for half an hour. And Skye is offering him an opportunity.

  ‘Yeah, okay.’

  He hobbles to the Mazda and lifts the hatch so Skye can put her backpack in the boot. Before sliding behind the wheel, Adam lays his school sweatshirt on the seat. If he gets blood in this car, his old man’ll kill him. Luckily, Skye’s flat has a designated parking space and it’s empty, so Adam doesn’t have much farther to walk.

  Skye leads him through to the bathroom. From the hall, Adam can tell the apartment is small, only two bedrooms, but comfortable. Ahead of him Skye is talking and pointing through the doors.

  ‘This is Mum’s room, and mine is this one over here. Don’t look. It’s messy.’ Adam looks anyway. Skye’s bed, a double, takes up most of the room. A duck blue duvet is pulled back revealing crumpled sheets as if Skye had just slipped out of bed. A couple of books are scattered on the floor, and there’s a pile of folded clothes, a pair of white panties on top, at the foot of the bed. Adam looks away uneasily, but then he feels stupid. It’s not as if Skye was wearing them. ‘I warned you not to look. I got up late. Had a mad dash to get to school. Bathroom’s this way.’