Mina stepped back. Ruth was so wrong. She had been careful. She’d worried all night and had gotten to school super early to search and search the art room. . . .
“That was mean, Ruth,” said Alana, jumping up. “Don’t cry, Mina. We’ll find the ball.”
Mina was standing in the lunch line when she heard: “Close your eyes and turn around.”
Sammy put something round into her arms.
Mina held the soft moon of the Friendship Ball close. “Oh!” was all she could say. She pressed her face against the yarn, smelling its mustiness, the scent of good memories wound into the roundness. Her whole body relaxed.
“Get out of line.” Sammy touched Mina’s forearm. “You don’t want cafeteria food. You can eat some of my lunch.”
“I promise never to lose it again,” she said as they crossed the lunch patio, heading toward the picnic tables. “Double promise. I swear.”
“I know you weren’t careless. Don’t worry.”
“Where did you find it?”
“During math, I passed a note offering a twenty-five-cent reward. A kid gave it to me as we were lining up for lunch.”
“That was so lucky, Sammy.”
They sat down and Sammy handed over half an egg salad sandwich.
Mina ate with the Friendship Ball on her lap, one arm curved around it. “Ruth is probably still going to be mad.”
“Probably.” Sammy opened a bottle of pink lemonade. He held it out to her.
Mina took a sip. “She’s mad about stuff other than the Friendship Ball.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of hard for her to be Athlete of the School and then maybe not be.”
“So you know about that? She told you?”
“Not told me. But it’s pretty obvious.”
Mina finished the sandwich and Sammy offered her a carrot stick.
“One of you’s gotta start solving things, though,” Sammy said. “Otherwise you and her won’t be friends. And if that happens, our group will bust up.”
“I’m supposed to go to her house tomorrow to practice our science presentation.”
“A perfect chance to talk.”
“But Sammy”— Mina handed back the pink lemonade —“I’m afraid to bring it up.”
“Pretend you’re in a race. Pretend that you can’t hang back but have to be strong and go forward.” Sammy drained the lemonade, then played with the clasp on his metal lunch box, clicking it open and shut.
“Okay. I’ll go, then. I’ll make myself.” Mina bit into the carrot.
So on Saturday morning, Mina went to Ruth’s house to practice the frog presentation.
It wasn’t Ruth’s turn to have the Friendship Ball, but Mina was taking no chances. She dropped it on the sofa, wondering if she’d ever see it again. Ruth might not want to pass the ball along anymore.
They set up the frog panel in Ruth’s living room. First Ruth read, but so softly that Mina could barely hear her. As Mina read, her words felt like chunks of cold oatmeal in her mouth. The images of frogs Ruth pointed at with the long stick were faded and lifeless, printed with the old school printer.
After they’d gone through the presentation, Ruth made a pitcher of lemonade from a can. They carried the pitcher, two glasses, and a bag of chips outside to the table under the black walnut tree.
As Mina sat down in the lawn chair, she wished it was still the day the Fellow Friends had welcomed her into the group.
Little brown birds hopped along the branches of the walnut tree. Did they ever get jealous or scared?
She wanted to hide from Ruth, covering her face with the glass of lemonade. Instead, she said, “Ruth, do you think . . .” She paused, not knowing how to put it. “Do you think the Fellow Friends group is falling apart?”
Ruth looked up from her glass. “Why do you ask that?”
Mina shrugged and forced herself to go on. “Well, you and Sammy play alone a lot now. And Alana and I do, too.”
“Yeah. I noticed.” Ruth flicked a leaf off her forearm.
“This started when track started.”
Ruth stared into her empty glass, as though studying the flecks of lemon pulp that clung to the sides.
Would she keep on staring into the glass, or set it down and leave? The conversation might end and never start up again. Mina thought of Sammy’s idea. She was in a race. She had to keep talking. “I’ve never run before, at least not in races, or with anyone timing me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to tie you in the race. I didn’t know I could.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Ruth said.
“But it still made you mad.”
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
Mina put down her glass and then picked it up again, needing something to hold on to. “But I didn’t mean to tie you.”
“Don’t apologize.”
A bird had landed on the other side of the table. It cocked its head, first to one side and then the other, eyeing the bag of chips. Just one, please? Just a nibble?
Ruth reached into the bag and tossed a chip toward the bird. It began to tug at it, trying to break off a bite. Two more flew down to help.
“You came out of nowhere and ran as fast as me,” Ruth said. “I’ve worked all my life to be good at sports. I practice soccer three times a week. And here you come . . . But it’s okay. Really, it’s okay.”
Mina felt like one of the tiny birds — out on the end of a branch, but with no wings. Yet she had to continue. “In the tryouts I tried to run slower.”
“I know you did. And that was even worse. You know, Mina, when athletes compete, it isn’t fair if someone doesn’t try their hardest. You made me feel like I didn’t really win. Or like at any time you could surprise me and beat me and I won’t know what hit me.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Yeah, I knew you lost on purpose because we’re friends. A real athlete wouldn’t have done that.”
“But I’m not a real athlete,” said Mina. “I’m a girlie girl.”
Ruth laughed so loudly that the birds flew off. “You’re one fast girlie girl.”
Ruth’s laughter made Mina laugh, too. Then she interlocked her fingers and looked down into the tight ball her hands made. She sighed and looked up. “I just want to be a Fellow Friend.”
Ruth threw another chip to lure the birds back before turning to Mina. She squinted and screwed up her face against the bright sun. “It’s too late. You’re already more than a friend.”
“What do you mean?”
“A friend is a friend. I’ve got lots. But there’s not a lot of people I can race against.” She paused. “I got an idea. I want to know something. Let’s go over to the park right now and race.”
Mina’s legs suddenly felt as though they needed braces. She wondered if Wilma Rudolph had ever felt this weak. And yet there was no escaping this race.
“If you don’t race, we’ll never know if you can beat me. I’ll never be able to think of myself as the fastest.”
“Okay,” Mina said slowly, thinking of Alana’s secret. She had already beaten Ruth. “I’ll race you.”
Ruth held out her hands, the fingertips salty and greasy from the chips, ready for the Fellow Friends Handshake.
The park was just down the street from Ruth’s house. As they walked, Mina thought of how the Chinese Moon Festival was a special time to celebrate friendship. If only it were fall instead of spring. If only she could just offer Ruth a simple moon cake. . . .
When they reached the spread of green grass, Ruth headed for an olive tree with a patch of bare dirt underneath. “Let’s run from that pine tree over there to here.” She marked a line with her toe. “That’s about fifty meters.”
Mina nodded. Would it really be okay to win? She followed Ruth to the pine, where she marked a second line.
Ruth leaned into the tree trunk and stretched one leg behind her, bouncing into the heel.
Not wanting to copy Ruth, Mina bent over to touch her toes.
“Hey, guys,
” Ruth called to two small boys crossing the grass. She cupped her hands around her mouth: “Can you help us with our race?”
The boys came closer, one in a striped T-shirt, the other wearing a purple baseball cap turned backward.
Ruth beckoned to the one with the cap. “You stand here.” She pointed to the start line she’d drawn. “You’ll count down for us.” She pointed to the line by the olive tree. “You’re over there,” she told the other boy. “Watch who puts their foot across the line first. Watch closely because the race could be close.”
Mina suddenly wished Ruth would offer another Fellow Friends Handshake, but Ruth was busy wiping her palms on her shorts.
The boy counted —“Three, two, one”— and then shouted: “Go!”
Mina plunged forward, shoving hard against the dirt with her toes. All her holding back vanished. She was off!
But the next moment, as though a whisper of wind had crossed her path, she found herself slowing — like in the tryouts when she had fallen behind on purpose. Way behind. That had felt awful.
She’d won once. It was time to win again.
At that moment, the world fell silent. The air filled with the smell of orange blossoms, a thick haze of sweetness. The sunshine cascaded, lovely and soft, around her head and shoulders. The tiniest breeze lapped at her as she ran. There was all the time in the world to complete the short distance between here and the tree.
She didn’t turn her head to look, but Mina knew that Ruth was running beside her. They ran like the African antelopes she’d seen in a movie — loping over a yellow plain, beneath trees with flat, horizontal branches.
One gigantic leap took Mina sailing high and forward, over the line. The leap carried her past the boy in the striped shirt.
The silence broke. “You won!” shouted the boy, pointing at Mina.
She glanced down at herself. Then, even though her breath was coming in great heaving gulps, she looked at Ruth.
Ruth was leaning over, her hands on her knees, breathing hard. Finally, she lifted her face and managed to smile.
The boys wandered off, and Mina and Ruth lay down on the grass, cradled in a large nest of miniature white flowers. Their breathing calmed into the same rhythm.
The sun was still up, but Mina noticed a crisp crescent in the sky. For the next two weeks it would grow until it reached its night of complete fullness. Mina closed her eyes. She was glad she’d run against Ruth. Like the moon, she was beginning to feel round and whole herself.
“Thanks,” said Mina after the shadow of the olive tree had edged across their faces.
“For what?”
“For helping me try my best.”
“If you don’t run fast, you can’t win,” said Ruth.
“Or lose,” said Mina.
“That’s a funny thing to say.”
“You know, I just realized that I copped out by getting into the relay,” Mina said quietly.
“How do you mean?”
“I wanted to run fast but not risk anything.”
“But if you run badly in the relay — like if you drop the baton — you blow it for everyone.”
“That’s what Coach said. But losing the race, even for all of us, even for the school, never seemed as bad as beating you and not being friends with you anymore.”
Silently, Ruth began to pick the flowers that grew in the grass. “Here, a bouquet for the winner.”
Mina reached out her thumb and forefinger to take the collection of tiny stems from her friend.
“Ruth,” she said after the shadow of the olive tree had slipped over their hearts, “I’ve discovered a secret about myself.”
“Hmm?”
“I love running. I love the way it feels. I love it more than anything.”
“I know,” Ruth said. “Me, too.”
“There’s the winning and losing part. And then there’s the way it makes me happy.”
“I forget that part,” Ruth said quietly. “I just want to win.”
Mina held Ruth’s bouquet against the sky. The little daisies were so white, their centers so purple.
The Fellow Friends ate lunches together again, gathering around the table to unwrap sandwiches and pop open their plastic containers. Alana’s mom made a special bag for the Friendship Ball. They wrote all their names on the bag with permanent marker so the ball would never get lost again.
Ruth announced a Fellow Friends party at her house, scheduled to take place after the meet even if the team lost.
A week after the City Meet, the whole class would be going to Ms. Jenner’s house for a full-moon potluck dinner. Mina planned to take watermelon cut into the different shapes of the moon’s phases.
“I’ll be glad when this is over with and you can have fun again,” said Alana.
In the early evenings, Mom and Mina jogged at the park. Poochie loved to run alongside them, yipping.
Paige was content on the swings. “Look, Mina!” she called out one evening.
Mina looked to see the moon appearing from behind the clouds.
“It’s getting round like a winner’s medal,” Paige said.
Mina placed her hand over her chest where she hoped a medal would hang.
Mina finished Seven Steps to Treasure. In the end, Francesca got to keep all of the diamonds after the bad guy went to jail. Always cautious, Francesca placed the diamonds in a safety deposit box until her twenty-first birthday.
Mina handed the book to Mom. “Could you get me something more . . .”
“Challenging?” Mom offered.
“Yeah, I guess,” Mina said.
All week she and the others ran the relay over and over in the afternoons until they glided through the routine, smoothly passing the baton. Sometimes Mina felt that instead of four separate girls, they’d become one creature that ran, passed, ran, passed, and ran again.
If they won, they would be going to City. If they won at City, they would stand on a podium while the high-school band played the National Anthem, just like in the Olympics. Sometimes Mina whispered, “City” to herself just before she went to sleep.
By the end of the week, the light side of the moon was winning over the dark. As Mina drew it, she thought of the fact that no matter how many times the moon disappeared, it always grew back. Someday she might run against Ruth again and lose. Or lose against another girl. But like the moon, if she lost, she would also win again.
On the day of the track meet, Mina paused at the entry of Duncan Berring Elementary School. The playground was a solid mass of kids from the four schools, everyone practicing their running and jumping and throwing. A hot little breeze whipped the bunches of balloons and flags marking the events. It fluttered the school banners. Shouts, laughter, and the sound of the coaches’ whistles blended into a roar.
Mina saw Alana threading her way through the crowd.
“There you are,” Alana called out. “I have something for you.” She handed Mina a four-leaf clover. “It took me a whole hour to find it.”
Mina twirled the stem between her thumb and forefinger. “Thanks, Alana. This feels lucky. Do you think we’ll win?”
Alana shrugged. “There’s nothing stopping you.”
When it was time for the race, Mina’s heart beat like the wings of the butterfly that Sammy had once brought to school in a jar. The heat of the black track passed through the soles of her shoes. The moment had come. Very soon it would be over.
It took a few minutes to get the four teams placed along the oval of the track.
“Why aren’t we all lined up evenly?” Mina asked Coach.
“We stagger you because the lanes are not the same length — the inside is shortest, the outside longest. We’re arranging you like this to make the race fair.”
The pistol shot broke the air into pieces and the first four girls took off.
Mina looked across the track, trying to see which of the four girls would hand over the baton first. Run, run, run, she chanted in her head.
I
t was Cassie!
Liz dove ahead, the baton gleaming in the sunlight.
Mina stretched her arm behind her, her whole body reaching with the effort to get the magic wand of the baton. When Liz was about to arrive, Mina began to jog forward until Liz caught up with her. Mina felt the baton land in her hand, slippery and heavy and important.
Liz let go and Mina took off at full speed. The cheers of the crowd launched her like exploding firecrackers.
She was a Moon Runner flying to the moon. Flying to harvest the fruit of the Moon Tree. Hurling forward, she could almost taste the sweetness.
Ruth began to jog as Mina drew near. Mina hurled herself forward one last time and delivered the baton to Ruth.
When Mina turned, Ruth was gone, leaping toward the finish line. A whistle blew, and then Ruth was holding her arms in the air, joining hands with Liz. And Cassie lifted Mina’s arm and they ran together to join the others.
All four were screaming and shouting. Mina found her throat filled with happy cries. Their relay team had won!
Mina looked up into the bleachers. She found Alana and her family, Mom and Daddy and Paige, standing together cheering. Alana held up her fingers in a V for Victory. Paige was waving as she bobbed up and down.
Mina felt Coach’s big hand pat her back in congratulations. “You’ll be going to City now.”
Mina’s head spun with joy.
She, Liz, Cassie, and Ruth hugged in a tight circle of four. As Mina laughed and babbled with the others, she sensed circles extending beyond the relay team — her family, Sammy and Alana, the round globe of the earth itself, filled with springtime, and beyond even that, the moon, growing and dying and growing each month in the sky.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to acknowledge the members of the Hive who encouraged me in the first draft of this story: Gretchen Woelfle, Mary Ann Downing, JoAnn Macken, Phyllis Harris, April Sayre, Jeanne Marie Grunwell, Meribeth Shanks, and Laura Kemp; Irma Shephard for her intuitive reading; Ann Collins for her eagle eye edits; and my editors, Deborah Wayshak and Amy Erhlich, who, as always, led me to the heart of the story.
Moon Runner Page 4