by Abby Cooper
“You knew this was a possibility. This was pretty short notice, and you only told what, a few people? Your friends and your teacher?” Mom put her hand on my shoulder. Britta shivered and snuggled up next to her.
I nodded. I had only told a few people, but they were important people.
“At least you can still do it,” I said to Mom, but she just shook her head.
The three of us walked to the water in silence. The wind picked up, because obviously being regular-gross out wasn’t enough. Mom’s hair flopped around all over the place.
A bubble came up above her head. I wish I were strong enough.
I took a big gulp of cold air and unzipped my hoodie. Fine. Everyone else could be a wimp. Even if Mom didn’t do the race, she’d see it. I’d do it for her, for everybody, even if that meant I did it totally alone. Because I was strong enough.
Shivering, I slid down my sweatpants and tossed them on the ground along with my hoodie.
“Well, ready, set, go,” I said to myself, walking to the water. This was so unexciting. But whatever. I’d get my good grade. I’d have tried to make it right with everybody and really help Mom.
I had kinda hoped that planning my own triathlon would make everybody really excited, though. Like they’d be all, Forget that dumb ZOOM Athletics triathlon! This race will be way better! and maybe they’d feel less scared of the things that freaked them out, and everybody would show up.
I thought since there wasn’t any pressure to win, it would be fun for everybody. But it’d still be risky. It was risky, in lots of different ways. And now, as I was seeing, it was one of those risks that didn’t pay off. Because no one liked my idea and now here I was, all alone, about to freeze my butt off for no real reason at all.
I thought about the Boston Tea Party, and I wondered what had happened next, like after it ended. I knew it led to the Revolutionary War, but not the details in between. Maybe they got what they wanted. Or maybe they just did their tea thing and went on their way and nothing changed. Could that be how some stories ended? Dr. Llama had never really told me what happened with that queen and her war. Maybe the war happened, and then it ended, and that was that.
I always pictured things with happily ever afters, or at least with the hope of a sequel or something if the ending to the first one wasn’t that good. But maybe some things just ended. People tried things and they didn’t work and they went on their way. Sometimes sadly, like Mom. Maybe it was time to understand that things were the way they were, and my fake triathlon wasn’t going to change that.
I plopped down on the sand and dipped my toes into the freezing water. I took them out and piled sand onto my feet, knowing I had a decision to make, and fast. Mom and Britta were talking behind me, and they had nice fake smiles plastered on their faces, and I was sure neither one would mind if I said I wanted to leave. In a half hour, I could be snuggled up in blankets and sweatpants, eating pancakes, all memory of this day wiped out with a boatload of bananas and chocolate chips. I could come up with some other project. One that was a little less triathlon-y.
I was just deciding to call it quits when I heard his voice.
“Let’s get this party started! I am Rafael, hear me roar!” No. Way. I turned around at the sound of ripping. Rafael had been wearing a T-shirt; now he wasn’t. He grinned at me, shook out his arms, and gave them each a kiss. “Yeah, you heard me. And yes, these guns did just rip the crud out of that shirt. Now let’s do this!”
“Rafael Luis Garcia! That was a good shirt!” His mom came up behind him and picked the shirt up from the ground. She waved it around like she was disgusted, but she laughed, too, and so did I. He was here! Rafael was here!
I looked behind him and saw a blurry-ish mob of people coming around the path. There was Kaya. Viv. Viv’s mom. Mr. Alvarado. Ms. Wolfson. The salesgirl, Mei, from ZOOM. Tons of people from school. Seriously, tons! When I thought that was everyone, more and more came around the path. My jaw dropped so far down it practically plummeted into the freezing water and I didn’t even care. What were all these people doing here? I’d only told my friends. I didn’t think anyone would want to come, based on what I already knew about them, and especially based on their bubbles.
And speaking of bubbles, there were a lot of variations of the same thing over a lot of people’s heads. I hope I can do this. I hope this works out. I hope I remember how to swim. I hope I don’t finish last. Hope. Hope, hope, hope.
If they could all have that word floating above their heads, why couldn’t I get some into my heart?
Suddenly I wasn’t cold anymore. There was excitement in the air instead of a chill. People tore off their layers, tossing them wherever, and ran toward the water, pushing each other and laughing and finally lining up in one big, long row. I was so excited that I didn’t even mind standing next to Viv Carlson.
“I can’t believe there are so many people here,” I said to her. “I can’t believe you are here!”
She smiled. “I can.”
I gave her a look.
“It was no big deal. I just posted online about it to my nine hundred friends and had my mom mention it at a couple spin classes. And then I had Rafael put up some posters at ZOOM and Kaya put some up at her therapist’s office.”
I gave her another look. Kaya, Rafael, and Viv Carlson did all that? For the race? For me? Before I could let that sink in, Kaya came up on my other side.
“How are you? Are you okay?” I asked. What I really wanted to know was, were we okay?
She nodded and stared at the water like it was going to eat her for dinner, spit her back out, and eat her again.
Scared of Stuff Kaya was here this morning, not Kaya the Adventurous Girl. That person would still take some getting used to, but Kaya liked being her. And I liked Kaya, well, however Kaya wanted to be.
“You can do it,” I said.
“I can do it,” she repeated, like she’d been practicing this a lot. “I will. I can. I can. I will.”
“Everybody ready?” I gave Kaya a hug as everyone clapped and cheered. “On your mark,” I yelled, “get set, go!”
We splashed into the water at warp speed. Since we could only use the area marked off for swimming and not really the rest of the lake, I figured we’d all just swim in circles until we felt like we’d swum enough.
Only I didn’t account for this many people. As I flopped around like an uncoordinated fish, I realized I didn’t totally recognize a lot of the heads flopping around in there with me. Was that Rafael’s little brother? And both of Kaya’s dads? There were kids, parents, teenagers, teachers, everybody. People I didn’t know. There were more people than there was water.
But I didn’t have to yell at anyone to stop swimming. Some people waded over to the shallow part and sat there, waiting their turn until there was more room. Some people stood or sat on docks near where people were doing laps, waving and screaming and cheering like crazy. No one complained that someone was in the way or taking too long or doing a bad job. People just kept clapping.
Viv was the first one out of the water, but she did a weird Viv thing—instead of taking a running leap onto a bike like I thought she would, she got out of the water, toweled off, and stood there.
And then when our friend Miguel got out next, he did the same thing. And so did Rafael and some old guy I didn’t know and some kid whose teeth were chattering but whose mouth was smiling.
They waited. They waited for Rafael’s mom, who splashed hard but not very fast. They waited for Mr. Alvarado, who made a lot of this-water-is-going-up-my-nose noises but kept swimming anyway. They waited for Kaya, and they waited for me.
“You did it!” I told Kaya when I got out.
“I did.” She grinned. “I really did!”
When everyone was out and mostly dry, we headed over to a giant row of bikes. Mei’s parents owned a bike rental company, and she’d gotten them to donate some for us to use. Only instead of the five I’d asked for, there were a whole bunch. Had Viv C
arlson talked to her, too?
“Wait!” Kaya yelled louder than I’d ever heard her yell before. Everyone froze. “We forgot! Viv and I made T-shirts!”
I made a scowly face. Things had been going so well, and now she was making all of us stop and wait and watch her and Viv and Rafael put on the dumb shirts they’d made without me?
Kaya ran over to her backpack and pulled one out. It was white with a ton of designs on it in different colors. She waved it in the direction of the group. “I have enough for everyone!”
I looked closer at the letters. It didn’t say TEAM SKVR or VSKR or any of the other combinations. It said TEAM EVERYBODY.
My face broke into a grin. Now that was a team I belonged on. And even better, one I was invited to.
I ran over as fast as I could. “Is there one for me?”
“Of course.” Kaya was taking them out of her backpack one after the next after the next. When I thought for sure they were gone, she’d take out another.
And there it was, my very own TEAM EVERYBODY shirt. And she really had them for everybody, even parents and teachers and Ms. Wolfson.
“Why’d you make them like this?” I pulled the shirt over my head. I was way worn-out from swimming, but at the same time, I had all the energy in the world.
“Instead of our initials? Well, Viv did invite everybody on the planet. We didn’t want anyone to feel left out.”
But that’s exactly how you made me feel before, I wanted to say. But I didn’t have time to say it, because it was time to get biking.
“Ready, set, go!” Mei did the honors this time. She waved a neon-pink headband that had been around her head and flashed me a big grin.
Okay. All I had to do was not fall off. I wasn’t going to fall off. No. I was most likely, very hopefully, totally not going to fall off. Oh pancakes, I was definitely going to fall off.
I took my time and tried my hardest to concentrate on steering, not speed. I weaved my way through all the people. It almost seemed like there were more bikers than there were swimmers.
“What up, Mini Mulvaney!” BFF Britta hollered as she swerved around me. “Yeah, I know, Britta on a bike. Wheeeee!”
I looked for Mom, but she was still standing on the sidelines. At least she was watching with a little smile on her face—that was what I wanted—but my heart still dropped seeing it. Mom could totally do this race, so why wasn’t she?
I grabbed on to my handlebars and clutched them for dear life. We were biking down the path along the lake for a few miles; then we’d turn around and run back to where we started. It was a major amount of distance, but it actually didn’t feel too bad. In fact, with my T-shirt clinging to my body and the wind pushing me forward, it was almost kind of fun.
I didn’t even mind the cold weather. In fact, it seemed like it was getting better. The black clouds had turned to gray, and the temperature had warmed up. I rounded the last corner, almost catching up to Rafael, who was having the time of his life. “Yee-haw!” he yelled. “Biking rules!”
We crossed the end of the bike trail around the same time, and we both let out loud whoops and squeals. I had actually biked that whole way without anything bad happening! My legs felt wobbly and tingled like crazy, but I wanted to keep going. I couldn’t stop now.
Just like we had with swimming, we waited for everyone to finish biking, then we all tied up our helmets around the bikes and got back into position for running. No one talked; the only sounds you could hear were hearts thumping and lungs pumping. I wasn’t the only one who was tired—or determined.
I was about to say go when I noticed one more person jogging over to join us. I squinted and looked closer. Could it be? Was it really? Holy pancakes with extra chocolate chips and an entire tree’s worth of bananas. It was my mom. Molly Mulvaney. The Mom who knew who I was. Who knew who she was. The real Mom.
“On your mark…” Rafael started.
“Get set…” Kaya, Viv, and I chimed in.
“Go!” yelled pretty much everyone.
This was it.
We took off running. I ran so quickly—like Mom and I had when we played the townspeople game at the gym—that I forgot about everything. I didn’t check to make sure Mom and Britta were still going. I didn’t worry about where Kaya and Rafael were or what they were thinking about me or each other or anything. I passed dozens of people and didn’t stop to check who had bubbles over their heads or if those bubbles were sad ones. I just kept running and running and running. And it felt like that day at the gym with Mom, but different. Better. It wasn’t just excitement that my feet were working; it was like taking that first amazing breath of fresh air after you’d had a stuffy nose for months.
I was more than excited, really.
I was free.
And the feeling carried me so far that I didn’t notice the crack of thunder—or the very large man, until he was right in front of us, waving his arms and yelling, “Everybody freeze.”
33
THE END OF THE RACE
We froze.
“You can’t be here,” Giant Scary Guy said, crossing his Giant Scary Guy arms. He was wearing a park uniform and a name tag that said RICK.
Kaya and I exchanged nervous glances. Since when was an outside, public place somewhere you couldn’t be?
I couldn’t help peeking up at the sky. It wasn’t raining, but that creepy, ominous thunder was crackling, almost like it was trying to warn us that there was going to be a downpour any second.
“Why can’t we be here?”
I looked around, trying to figure out whose loud, forceful voice that was.
It was LaMya’s. Aka the Girl Who Wanted to Speak in Front of a Group, and Had.
Huh.
“Well, many reasons. One, any large-group athletic event needs to be approved by the department. Two, any large-group athletic events are typically on the other side of the beach.” He pointed, like we had no clue where the other side would be. “Three, that side of the beach has a lifeguard on duty, which you must have in order to swim here. And finally, I saw you biking in an area strictly designated for walking.”
Whoa. Who knew a beach had so many rules? And somehow, without trying, I’d managed to break them all.
Yup, there was rain now. Of course. It was like a combination of the worst nightmare and horror movie ever. Some people started slinking off. Others didn’t even slink; they full-on ran. Didn’t they care that they wouldn’t finish the mini-triathlon? They were giving up? Was that it? In December 1955, there were major floods in California, but no one gave up on having Christmas. There was a huge blizzard in Minnesota on Halloween in 1991, but you can bet no one missed their trick-or-treating. But now everyone was going to bail just because of a guy and a little bit of water?
I stepped forward. “We didn’t know about those rules, and we didn’t break them on purpose.” Raindrops pelted me on the head like they were laughing at me.
Mom put her arm around me. “Soph,” she whispered. “It doesn’t matter, whatever he says. No one’s racing in this. It’s over.”
Giant Scary Guy frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s time to pack it in.”
Some water trickled down my face and I had no idea if it was rain or tears. My eyeballs felt after-ten-thirty-at-night droopy. So much for my big new race. So much for reminding Mom how stuff like this could be good and fun. So much for everything.
Mom poked me in the side as more clouds opened up and rain came down. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go.”
She linked her arm through mine and sort of dragged me toward the parking lot. We jogged. As the rain came down harder and faster, our jog changed to a run. And then our run turned into a run-as-fast-as-you-possibly-can dash, and so did everyone else’s.
And something about it wasn’t so awful at all.
I linked my free arm through Ms. Wolfson’s. She linked hers through Kaya’s, who linked hers through Rafael’s, and so on until my group of triathlon people was mostly in one long
chain, running through the rain together.
“This is ridiculous!” I yelled, opening my mouth to catch some huge droplets.
“This is everything,” Mom yelled back. “Wolfson women are not doormats!”
As the parking lot came into view, everyone let out a huge cheer.
“It’s the finish line!” Rafael yelled.
“Run!” Kaya hollered.
“It’s the finish line!” Ms. Wolfson repeated, louder.
“We’re running!” Mom yelled. Glancing over at her, I couldn’t tell if the water in her eyes was rain or tears, either.
There were bubbles over people’s heads—some happy, some sad, some a little bit of both—but I kept looking forward. I didn’t have to stop and know and help right this second. I could just … keep my eyes on my own cards, sometimes. I could just keep going.
A second later, we all crossed the parking lot line together. There weren’t ribbons or balloons or a giant scoreboard with our times like there would have been in the real thing, but there was a lot of laughter and hugging and falling over in a fun way, not a getting-hurt way. We hadn’t actually successfully finished the mini-triathlon, but something about it felt exactly like we had. All of us. Together. It wasn’t about crossing a finish line or being the best or solving everybody’s problems perfectly. It was about doing your best, and having people to race with.
34
NEWS
My certificates were seriously soggy. I guess that’s what I got for taking them out before the race. You couldn’t see the border of stars I’d hand-drawn on each and every one, or “Triathlon” in really fancy writing, or the clip-art gold medals I’d printed and glued on. Also, there definitely weren’t enough for everybody.
It didn’t matter. A few of us held them up and posed for a picture right there in the rainy parking lot. Of course, the rain had gone from pouring like crazy to a teeny little drizzle by the time we got there, but it didn’t matter; we were already soaked. And I kinda wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
A giant white van pulled into the parking lot right as we came apart after the picture. Mom’s face went from happy to confused in two seconds flat.