I'll Be the One

by Hazel James

  “You’ve lost your mind, James.” I fight back another round of giggles and walk into the locker room.

  I make my way to the starting line. I should be more focused, envisioning each lap and my eventual win. Instead, I’m thinking about going to the movies and spending the evening with my most favorite people. This race is so different from all the other ones. For the first time, I feel like I’m running it for me. No matter what my time is, I know this one will be my best race ever.

  “RACHEL!” I look over at the fence at the edge of the track. My dad signals me over. Oh God, this can’t be good. If he saw me with James, I’m beyond dead.

  “Hey, Dad, what’s up?” I ask, trying to keep my nerves at bay. He looks a little uncomfortable.

  “Watch number twelve. I saw her out her earlier and I think she’s gonna be your biggest competition. And remember to wait until the final lap to push it, no matter how tempting it’ll be before then. Let everyone else burn themselves out while you’re draft off them. The final 400 meters is all you.”

  I fight tears as I suck in a breath. I definitely wasn’t expecting that. “I will. Thanks, Dad.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  “Come here.” He opens his arms and we hug over the barricade. “I love you and I’m proud of you.”

  A few tears escape, despite my attempts to contain them. “I love you, too. I gotta get to the starting line.” I let go and start to walk away when he calls my name again. I look back at him, and this time he’s grinning.

  “Have fun.”

  I smile in return and jog back to the track to take my place in lane four. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear those words until now. He might be uptight and demanding, but he’s still my dad. I slide my toe behind the starting line. When the gun cracks, I bolt forward and immediately head for lane one. My legs find their rhythm and I settle into a comfortable pace with four girls in front of me. I focus on my form: elbows at 90 degree angles and arms pumping in line with the track. After the first lap, one girl drops behind me. I ease up very slightly to conserve my energy but remain in third place. Lauren, the girl my dad warned me about, is in second. My breaths are still holding steady as I round turn four and focus on the third lap.

  Coming around the first turn, I drop back to fourth as a girl overtakes me just outside lane one. I remember my dad’s words and keep my pace steady. In turn two, Lauren moves to first place. I move from fourth to third in turn three and watch Lauren. She’s already starting her surge, which means she’ll start fatiguing in the final lap. At the start of lap four, I kick up my pace. One hundred meters in, I take second place. Lauren’s about ten meters ahead of me. At turn two, I increase my speed again. I make sure to keep my feet light and bring up my knees. The distance between me and Lauren decreases. I see her straining as we hit turn three. I approach her on the right and complete my pass just before the last turn.

  Hugging the inside line of lane one, I open my stride and use my arms to propel my body in the final surge. Everything I’ve trained for has come down to this moment. With the finish line in my sight, I concentrate on moving every muscle in my body. My lungs suck in air and my heart pumps at a frenzied rate. Three hundred meters left. I know I won the race. Two hundred meters left. I hope I can set a new personal record. One hundred meters left. I see James at the end of the track jumping up and down like a maniac. With adrenaline and love coursing through my body, I cross the finish line.

  My legs slow to a stop and I gasp for breaths.

  “Rachel Wheaton takes first with an unofficial time of four minutes, forty-nine seconds,” I hear over the loudspeakers. God, I need more air. That can’t be right. When I ran earlier in the week, I only got to five minutes, two seconds. On the way back to the locker room, my dad hops the barricade and runs toward me.

  “Four forty-nine!” he shouts before picking me up in a bear hug. We spin around and he’s laughing, and I realize I am too. “That was amazing, Rachel! You shattered your record!” He sets me down and hugs me again before taking a step back. We’ve had a lot of touchy-feely moments today, and I think we just hit tomorrow’s quota too.

  “Thanks, Dad!” I still can’t believe it. I wish I could high five my feet. “I’m gonna go grab my stuff. I’ll meet you by the car, okay?” I need to get away before he launches into a tirade about how I’m throwing my career away and how some people were born with no legs and would love nothing more than to run track and blah blah blah. On the way to the locker room, I scan the crowd for James. I wish more than anything that I could run into his arms, too. I grab my phone out of my bag and see a text waiting for me. Make that a lot of texts.

  James: Holy shit, that was hot.

  James: Your legs are amazing.

  James: I’m going to pretend your smile was because you saw me and that it had nothing to do with you knowing you won.

  James: Also, I’m ignoring the fact that your mile time kicks my mile time’s ass.

  James: I can’t wait to see you tonight.

  James: Track’s over now. Does that mean you can be my girlfriend?

  James: I don’t like the word girlfriend. It just doesn’t… contain everything.

  James: Not that you need to be contained.

  James: I’m not a chauvinist or anything.

  James: Oh God. Why can’t I delete texts I’ve already sent?

  James: I’m gonna go now.

  James: Call me later.

  James: Love you.

  His texts make me laugh, but picturing his expressions as he wrote them makes me laugh even harder. As I walk to the car, I try to think of ways to bring up the subject of having a boyfriend to my parents. With my vast experience in this arena, you’d think I’d be bursting with ideas. Which actually does give me an idea. I open my text messages and click on Avery’s name.

  Me: Yo, Jenny from the Block. I need your help.

  Avery: Sorry, Jenny’s not here. She ran off to Cancun with the hot short-order cook.

  Me: You wish.

  Avery: Totally. What’s up?

  Me: Track’s over. Which means no more distractions from boys.

  Avery: Well hot damn! It’s time to get you a MAN.

  Me: How do we tell my dad?

  Avery: We?

  Me: Come on. You’re supposed to be my wingwoman or something.

  Avery: Fine, fine. Let me think about it.

  Me: Hurry up.

  Avery: Impatient?

  Me: It’s like having a chocolate cake in front of you and not being able to eat it.

  Avery: Are you saying you want James’ cake?

  Me: AVERY. Get your mind out of the gutter.

  Avery: Hey, this mastermind is going to help you tell your dad, remember? Maybe the gutter helps me think better.

  Me: Oh God. I’m scared now.

  Avery: Don’t worry, I’ll make sure whatever idea I come up with doesn’t involve a pregnancy or STD.

  Me: Avery Jane Murphy! I will kill you.

  Avery: Calm your tits, Ray. I’ll come up with something. Gotta go for now though. I’ll pick you up this afternoon.

  I glance down at my uni-boob (I should really invest in some more flattering sports bras) and confirm that my tits are, indeed, calm.

  Me: All’s quiet on the Northern Front. See you later.

  A few seconds later, I text her again.

  Me: Oh yeah, forgot to tell you. I won.

  Avery: DUH. Congrats, Beef!

  “Rachel!” I turn and see Mom half-jogging toward me. “I’m so proud of you!” she says, as we hug. I think I’ve touched my parents more in the last week than I have in several months. It’s weird. I thank her and sink into the backseat when Dad unlocks the car.

  “I’m gonna put in my earbuds, okay?” I say, not waiting for their response. I spend the next hour flipping through photos of James on my phone, wondering when I won’t have to keep him as my secret anymore.

  I toss my deodorant and toothbrush into my overnight bag and survey my close
t. I reach for a black sweater, leggings and Toms, wishing for the first time that I was slightly more fashionable. I’ve seen the way other girls at school look at James. Girls like Vivien with big boobs, nice outfits and faces full of perfect makeup. Essentially the exact opposite of me. I pull my sweater on and hear the doorbell ring.

  “Mom, can you get that? I’m getting dressed,” I shout from my room. Once my clothes are on, I fix my hair into a ponytail and rub some Coppertone sunblock onto my hands. I read an article in one of Avery’s magazines about beating the winter blues that said the smell of sunblock has positive effects on a person’s mood. The article probably wasn’t very scientific, but the scent makes me think of the sunshine and that definitely makes me happy. I splash my neck with Warm Vanilla Sugar body spray from Bath and Body Works and declare myself ready. Avery hasn’t made her way to my room yet, and I hope that doesn’t mean that Mom’s holding her hostage in the living room. I open my door to investigate and see Mom walking toward me.

  “Rachel, you have company.” She’s smiling, and I’m not sure if I should be alarmed.

  “Just tell Avery to come on back. I’m almost ready.”

  “It’s not just Avery.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She brought a fellow with her.” Mom wiggles her eyebrows.

  “Fletcher?”

  “Nope.” Mom heads back toward the living room without elaborating. I give myself a once-over in my mirror and follow her down the hall wondering what in the hell Avery is up to.

  “Hey, Beef!” Avery shouts from sofa. “You know James.” She gestures to the person next to her and gives me a look that says “just play along.”

  “Uh, yeah. He’s in my second period class, and I think he works with you at the Sweet Pea, right?”

  “He does. He and I have chatted a bit at work, and it turns out James has a bit of a crush on you.” She pats him on the shoulder. He smiles and scratches the back of his head with a look of slight embarrassment. Oh, my gosh, he’s adorable. “I told him that your dad didn’t allow you to date because of your track obligations.”

  “That’s true,” I said, wondering where she’s going with this.

  “Well, when I went to the Pea this afternoon to pick my mom up, James overheard me tell her that you won your last race. So…” She trails off, looking at James. I know he wasn’t working today, but Mom doesn’t.

  “Hi, Rachel,” he says, nervously. “Since track is over, I was wondering if you’d like to be my date for the movie tonight? That is, if your mom says it’s okay.”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. W. Fletcher and I are going too, so it’s a group thing,” Avery adds, obviously trying to sway the odds in my favor. Mom turns to me and puts her hands on her hips.

  “Well, your father’s not here and it’s his rule. But track is over, so I don’t see what harm is in letting you go.” She smiles at me again before turning to James. “It was nice to meet you, young man. I hope we’ll be seeing more of you.”

  “Nice to meet you. And yes, ma’am, I hope so too. Thanks so much for letting Rachel go.” Mom loves the ma’am stuff. I wonder if that’s something James knows already.

  “Come on, Beef. Get your stuff and let’s go!” I turn and jog back to my room to get my bag. When I return to the living room, I give Mom an awkward side hug and kiss her cheek.

  “See you tomorrow, Mom. Love you!”

  We walk to Mandy’s car, and James opens the front passenger door for me. I smile at him and briefly look toward the living room window. Mom’s watching us from behind the blinds, no doubt taking note of James’ manners, as he takes his place in the seat behind me. Avery pulls out of the driveway like a calm, rational person and makes it about a half mile from my house before cheering and doing a happy dance in the driver’s seat.

  “Rachel, that was epic! It worked like a charm!” she shouts. I’m in the middle of a high-five with James when I remember that I forgot to check the mail. I meant to earlier, but ended up taking a nap instead.

  “Avery, turn around! Today’s the thirty-first! Just make sure to stay behind the trees so Mom doesn’t see the car.” She makes a U-turn and I jump out when she reaches the mailbox. I sort through a stack of bills and typical housewife magazines and see an envelope from UNC tucked between Better Homes and Gardens and Southern Living.

  It’s the big one.

  I replace the mail and rush back to the car. Avery sees my expression and her eyes bulge.

  “What does it say?” she shouts, as I open the door. My hands are shaking, causing me to fumble with my seat belt. Once I hear the click, Avery pulls back onto the road and I tear open the top edge of the envelope.

  “Dear Rachel, congratulations on your acceptance to The University of North Carolina at Ch—”

  “WOOO!” she shouts, before I can even finish the sentence. “That’s my Beef!” I scan the rest of the letter before tucking it back into the envelope.

  “Congrats, my little Tarheel,” James says from the backseat. I turn to blow him a kiss and decide he looks lonely, so I undo my seatbelt and climb over the console to join him.

  “Thanks! I didn’t see an envelope from State, which means I’m still on mailbox watch.”

  “Are you happy about getting into UNC?” he asks.

  “Sure, it’s a great school.”

  “But…” he prompts.

  “But I don’t know if I want to go there because that’s what my dad wants or because it’s what I want.”

  He pulls me into his arms and kisses me on the side of my head. “Don’t worry, Ray. Everything’s gonna work out.” I push away from him to look in his eyes. If he’s holding out on me, I might hurt him.

  “Wait, do you know what college I’m going to?”

  “No, I just see you at college and you’re happy.”

  “Do you happen to see me wearing red or blue?” I know it’s a long shot, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. He just laughs and pulls me close again.

  “Avery did what?” Rachel and I hold hands across the school parking lot on the way to her car. I could really get used to this touching her in public thing.

  “She told Mrs. Atkins to refuse delivery of any more flowers if they were addressed to her.”

  “Who’s Mrs. Atkins?”

  “You know, the really high-strung secretary in the front office?”

  “Ah, yes—Caffeinated Secretary. So what did she do with today’s bouquet?”

  She laughs at my nickname for Mrs. Atkins then continues her story. “She stormed down to the field past the Agriculture building and fed it to the goats.”

  “Leave it to her to use goats for vengeance.” The image of Avery hauling a dozen roses across campus in a rage makes me laugh. However, the thought of Derrick sending her flowers makes me uneasy. I try to ignore the feeling in the bottom of my stomach. When we reach Rachel’s car, I open her door and then walk to the passenger side. She may be driving, but manners are manners. “Thanks for the ride, by the way. Grandpa said he’d have The Beast fixed by this evening.”

  “I’m just glad your truck waited until after my final track meet to break.” She pulls out of the parking lot and heads toward my house. Fletcher is coming over later to practice for the open mic night tomorrow night, but I hope to spend some time with Rachel first.

  “Hey, are you sure you and Avery are okay with Gretchen sitting with us at lunch now? I know I kind of sprung it on y’all today but I really feel bad for her. I figure she’s dealing with enough shit in her life. She shouldn’t have to worry about lunchtime drama, you know?” Gretchen is finally back in school and seems to be doing alright, all things considered. Yesterday, I caught her sitting in the courtyard by herself during lunch since she was ostracized from her ex-boyfriend’s table. She said she’s still living with Lainey and started counseling last week. I haven’t talked to either of them much about my well-timed phone call, which is fine by me. I still don’t have any answers for them. Well, none that I feel like sharing with them
anyway.

  “It’s perfectly fine. She seems really cool, and, unlike Vivien, at least I know Gretchen’s not trying to hit on you,” she says, smiling.

  “It wouldn’t matter if she did. You’re it for me, Rachel.” She glances at me. Her expression is at least half disbelief. “Why are you surprised to hear me say that?”

  “I just don’t understand why,” she says with a shoulder shrug. “Today at lunch, I watched Vivien and her minions ogle you and they definitely have a lot more to offer in the looks department than I do.”

  “And I watched one girl. The blonde with the killer legs sitting across from me.” For as smart as Rachel is, she’s acting pretty dumb right now.

  “Just promise me that if you decide I’m not what you want that you’ll break up with me first.” She turns off the street and we bump along the dirt road leading to my house.

  “Rachel, you’ve officially been my girlfriend for a week. Why are you talking about breaking up?” She furrows her brow and sighs but doesn’t answer until she parks in front of the house.

  “I don’t mean that I want to break up, I just mean that I want you to break up with me instead of cheat on me if you realize you don’t have feelings for me anymore.”

  I grab her hand to keep her from picking at her nails. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Maybe now, but Avery didn’t think Derrick would ever cheat on her.”

  “First, Derrick was always cheating on Avery. Second, have you forgotten that I’ve spent my life traveling around the country? I’ve seen just about every type of girl there is. No one ever made me feel the way I do with you. Not one single person.”

  “But why?”

  “What happened to the confident Rachel I met one month and one day ago?”

  “That was before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before I had all these feelings.” The way she said “feelings” makes it sound like a bad word. “We’re seventeen. Maybe that means our feelings for each other aren’t real. Love doesn’t happen this fast.”