Running Free

by Laura Sieveking

  About the Book

  With the Royal Academy of Sport for Girls end-of-year Athletics State Finals fast approaching, golden girl of the track, Josie Ingram, and her teammates are training hard. It seems like nothing can stop them from reaching their dreams. However, when Josie finds out she is falling behind in her schoolwork, her world is turned upside down. If she doesn’t raise her grades she won’t be allowed to compete at the State Finals!

  Can hurdling champion Josie find a way to improve in class as well as follow her gold medal dreams?

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHARACTER PROFILE

  OTHER BOOKS IN SERIES

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  For my siblings, with love.

  I gently reached up and swept a wisp of my long, strawberry blonde hair away from my eyes. I inhaled and exhaled in deep, measured breaths as I ran. My feet pounded along the path in the rhythm of a trotting horse. Clip-clop clip-clop. I was being careful to keep my pace steady – this wasn’t a sprint.

  I glanced at the sky as I ran. It was only eight o’clock and the sun was already sparkling high in the sky. Heat was radiating down onto my shoulders in the warm spring air. It would be summer again soon. How could it be summer again? I’ll admit, my pale, freckly skin is not a fan of the scorching Australian summer. Even with suncream, it will redden throughout the day and either produce more freckles or a hot burn. Never a tan.

  Up ahead, I could see Isabella bobbing along the path. You would never have picked Issy as one of the best runners in the state. She was tiny. She had short blonde hair, cut into a pixie bob. Her limbs were muscly, yet thin. She ran longer distances than I did – she had the fitness and speed for the 400 metres and the 800 metres. A little dynamo package.

  I wasn’t so good at the longer distances. Nope, I wasn’t patient enough for all that pacing and counting breaths. I’m more of a quick-dash kind of a girl – I was the 100-metre sprint as well as the 100-metre hurdle champion in my age division in the state. They called me ‘golden girl’ because nobody could beat me, and my hair always shone red-gold like the medals I won. I smiled to myself. I didn’t want to be arrogant – nobody likes a show-off – but you couldn’t deny I was the best at what I did. I am Josephine Ingram, lightning bolt runner!

  As I snaked my way along the school path, I took in some of the sights around me. We were doing endurance training today. Usually our training was focused on sprints and our specialties, which in my case was hurdles. But occasionally, we did longer distance running to help with our fitness. We had to run our way through the whole campus and back to the oval again. In most schools that wouldn’t be a very big run. But at the Royal Academy of Sport for Girls, it was a great distance. The Academy was huge – it housed Olympic-quality facilities for the best sporting girls in the country.

  I ran down the path past the gigantic aquatic centre and past the boarding houses. I wasn’t a boarder, I lived at home locally, but many of the girls in the school had come from the country or interstate. Those girls lived on campus in what I can only describe as mansions!

  Once past the boarding houses, the landscape opened out into a vast grassy space. I was heading towards the equestrian stables now, where acres of beautiful fields rolled down to the southern end of the school grounds. The grass felt crunchy and dry beneath my feet, a sure sign that this warm spring was about to give birth to a scorching hot summer.

  I breathed harder as the sheer length of the run started to exhaust me.

  ‘C’mon, slowpoke!’ a voice laughed as it rushed past me.

  I smiled as Nina ran ahead of me. She was my other best friend at the Academy, along with Issy. We had all hit it off immediately in Term One when we began training together. None of us knew anyone else at the Academy and we instantly became inseparable. Nina is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met – I’ve never heard her say a mean word about anyone.

  I shook my head gently as I remembered those early days at the Academy. I couldn’t believe it was so many months ago. And, here I was, in my final term of my first year. After this term, we’d move to Year 8 and no longer be the babies of the school. It had been the best year of my life.

  By the time I’d circled round the equestrian paddocks and snaked my way back through the school, I was exhausted. I could see my friends bent over, panting and huffing as they gulped down water on the oval.

  ‘That was torture!’ I huffed as I finished my run.

  ‘No, it wasn’t, Josie, it was awesome,’ Issy giggled. ‘I want to do it again!’

  ‘It was rather invigorating,’ said Nina, catching her breath.

  ‘Invigorating?’ I laughed. ‘I love how you use big words to describe everything, Neens.’ Not only was Nina a champion runner, she was one of the smartest girls in the whole year. She was a maths whiz and also a genius in English. A lot of our classes were streamed at the Academy, which meant I wasn’t in any school classes with Nina. Let’s just say, schoolwork wasn’t my strongest talent. But I didn’t care. You don’t need 100 per cent in English to run in the Olympics, do you?

  ‘Girls, start your warm-down!’ Coach Jack yelled.

  Issy, Nina and I sat on the ground and began to stretch out our legs, still panting.

  ‘Do you reckon we’ll get our Maths assessment back today?’ Nina asked.

  ‘You wish!’ I teased.

  ‘I hope I did okay. Mum said I can’t watch TV for the whole weekend if I don’t pass,’ Issy said, chewing gently on her lip.

  ‘You’re lucky to get TV at all!’ Nina said. ‘My mum only lets us watch it in the school holidays!’

  ‘Ugh, mums can be the worst,’ Issy scoffed.

  My face reddened and my chest began to tighten a little. I could feel the heat in my cheeks and I quickly looked around for a distraction from the conversation. Issy’s eyes met mine. I could see them fill with panic.

  ‘Oh, I mean … I didn’t mean … I’m sorry, Josie,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said, waving my hand casually in the air. ‘Dad lets me do pretty much whatever I want! TV anytime, ice-cream for breakfast – he’s the coolest.’

  Nina and Issy nodded.

  ‘He’s pretty awesome, your dad,’ Nina smiled.

  A bell pierced through the silence.

  ‘That’s the warning bell. We’d better go and get changed if we are going to make it to class on time,’ Nina said, finishing off her quad stretch.

  We bundled ourselves to our feet and took final swigs from our water bottles. I turned back to the oval and gazed at the amazing track and field equipment we had at the school.

  ‘I wish we didn’t have to do the school part,’ I said wistfully. ‘Imagine if we could just do sport, all day.’

  ‘That would get boring,’ said Nina.

  ‘And exhausting!’ Issy laughed.

  I shook my head defiantly. ‘No, girls. That would be heaven.’

  ‘I just don’t get why we have to use letters in Maths,’ I moaned.

  ‘Algebra is the worst,’ agreed Delphie, chewing the end of her pen. She stared back down at her book and scrunched up her nose. Delphie was an Academy swimmer and, like me, wasn’t so great at schoolwork. We were in
a lot of classes together – the second lowest English class, the lowest Science class and the lowest Maths class. It was kind of embarrassing saying that you are in the bottom class, but it had to be better than sitting around with the brainiacs racing ahead.

  I looked down at my page. It may as well have been in another language. The numbers and letters were jumbled together in a confusing heap.

  ‘I mean, this is a sports school, not a school for geniuses. It’s obvious we want to be professional athletes, so why are we even bothering with this stuff?’

  ‘Josie, stop talking and do your work!’ Mrs Henderson hissed at me.

  Delphie giggled quietly.

  ‘So, do you have an end-of-year carnival for swimming?’ I whispered to her.

  ‘Yep, it’s a big one. I can’t wait.’

  ‘Will those twins be in it – the ones you caught cheating last term?’

  ‘The Ogilvy twins? Yeah, they will. But they are so much nicer now and they haven’t cheated once since the swim camp. I actually like them now, can you believe it?’ laughed Delphie.

  ‘That’s a turnaround!’

  ‘What about you? Big athletics comp?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t wait. It’s the end-of-year Athletics State Finals and every track and field athlete from the best athletics clubs and schools in the state will be competing. I’m running the relay, the 100-metre sprint and most importantly, the hurdles. I’ve won that race in every meet this year and I can’t wait to take the gold medal!’ I beamed with excitement at the thought of standing on that first-place podium. ‘And if I do well, I’ll be selected to represent the state at Nationals.’

  I breathed in deeply as I fantasised about receiving my medals. There was nothing I loved more than running. I thought back to when I was four years old, winning my first race at Little Athletics. Nothing beat the feeling of crossing that line first. I remember the coaches staring at me with a sparkle in their eyes. They knew I had something.

  ‘The bell will go in about five minutes, so I’ll take this time to hand back your Maths assessments,’ Mrs Henderson said, standing up and gathering a large bundle of papers in her hand.

  The class groaned collectively.

  ‘On the whole, everyone did quite well. A definite improvement on last term. What I want you to do is to go home and look through your paper. It will be a good guide as to where you need to study harder for the final exams in two weeks’ time.’

  Mrs Henderson paced around the classroom, handing back the assessments to their owners. Some were met with surprised smiles while others sank down into their seats. Mrs Henderson reached the back row where Delphie and I were sitting.

  ‘Big improvement, Delphie!’ sang Mrs Henderson as she handed Delphie her paper. ‘I can see you’ve been working hard.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs H!’ Delphie beamed as she opened her test. ‘My sister has been helping me out lately.’ She swished her thick, blonde ponytail and smiled.

  Mrs Henderson flicked through the remaining papers until she stopped at the one that was clearly mine.

  ‘Ah, Josie,’ she sighed, handing me my paper. I didn’t even check the mark. I tried to read Mrs Henderson’s face instead. She was not smiling. ‘Have you been doing the homework, Josie?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Well, maybe not every single time,’ I said sheepishly. Actually, maybe not at all, I thought.

  ‘We need to improve your understanding of this topic before the exams, Josie.’

  I nodded.

  I stared at my paper, which I’d put facedown on the desk. I took a deep breath and slowly began to turn it over. The bottom of the exam paper appeared first. There were red crosses streaked across most of the answers while big white gaps peppered the rest of the paper where I hadn’t filled in the answers.

  As I turned to the top of the paper, I saw my grade printed in red pen with a circle around it.

  Thirty-eight per cent.

  I felt a rush of blood to my face. Thirty-eight per cent. Thirty-eight out of 100. Not even half right. I knew Maths was not my strong point, but this was the lowest mark I had ever received. I couldn’t look at my mark any longer. I flipped the paper back over, hoping it would magically change.

  It didn’t. The big, red thirty-eight shone back at me, mocking me.

  ‘How’d you go?’ Delphie said brightly.

  ‘Ah, not so good. You?’

  ‘Sixty-eight per cent!’ Delphie sang happily. ‘That’s the best result I’ve had this year! What’d you get?’

  ‘Oh, I dunno – not as good as that,’ I mumbled. Most of the time, Delphie and I had pretty similar marks. We both usually passed at least.

  ‘C’mon, tell me!’ she giggled, as she reached out to grab my paper. ‘It can’t be that bad!’

  I tried to pull my test away, but Delphie swiftly grabbed the paper and turned it over. Her smile immediately disappeared. I snatched back the paper.

  ‘Give me that!’ I said, irritated.

  ‘Sorry, Josie, I didn’t mean to,’ she said quietly.

  The air became heavy with silence.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll do better in the yearly exams,’ she offered.

  I put a fake smile on my face and waved my hand around as if I didn’t care. ‘Yeah, whatever,’ I laughed. ‘It doesn’t matter – Dad says I don’t need Maths to run in the Olympics, anyway!’

  Delphie forced a smile. ‘Yeah, of course.’

  The bell rang out loudly over the PA system.

  It was the end of the day and I was catching the train home from school as I had no athletics training that afternoon. I gathered my things together and walked silently and slowly over to the lockers. I glanced down at my pile of books and saw my Maths assessment, neatly folded on the top of the pile. I felt sick to my stomach.

  ‘Hey, Josie, want to come for a milkshake with us?’ Issy chirped as she approached from down the hall with Nina by her side.

  ‘Nah, not today,’ I said quietly.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Nina asked.

  ‘Yeah, just a headache. I’m going to go straight home,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Feel better!’ Issy sang as I slung my bag over my shoulder.

  I don’t know why I was feeling so down about the Maths assessment. It wasn’t like it was an exam. But exams were close. I breathed in deeply and tried to forget about schoolwork and exams. Anyway, my dad wasn’t like other parents; he didn’t care what marks I was getting at school. As long as I was happy, that’s all that mattered. So what was the problem?

  The train trip home was quick and the walk from the station to my house was short. Within twenty minutes, I was opening the front door of my house.

  ‘I’m home.’

  ‘Hi, sweetie!’ I heard Dad call from the study. He was an illustrator and worked from home, so there was always someone around when I finished school. It was nice. I wandered into the study and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  ‘How’s my little cheetah?’ he smiled.

  ‘Good,’ I said lightly. ‘What are you working on?’ I glanced at the large board which was propped up on the table in front of him. On it were light pencil drawings of three mice wearing shirts and trousers, running away from something with alarmed expressions on their faces.

  ‘Still on the mouse book,’ he said. ‘I’ve given Orlando glasses – what do you think?’

  I looked down at the mouse with large, round glasses perched on the end of his nose. ‘Cute,’ I said.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked. He gently lifted his hand to my forehead and felt it. ‘Are you ill?’

  ‘No, just tired.’

  He nodded, his face creased with concern. ‘Well, your brother is in the kitchen eating brownies, if you want one. Better get in quick before he eats them all!’

  ‘You baked again!’ I laughed.

  ‘I did.’ He smiled.

  As I turned to walk out the room I took a deep breath and tried to put on my most casual voice.

  ‘Got the Maths assessment back, by the way,’
I said lightly.

  He swivelled in his chair. ‘How’d you do?’ His eyebrows were raised in hope.

  I didn’t want to tell him about my mark. But we’d always agreed that I’d keep him updated on my schoolwork. He said he wouldn’t be mad, as long as I was honest with him. That had been the truth so far – he’d never given me a hard time about any of my marks.

  ‘Not the best,’ I said, offering a fake laugh. ‘Thirty-eight per cent! Huh. Oops!’

  He didn’t smile.

  ‘It’s just an assessment,’ I added quickly. ‘The exam isn’t for a couple of weeks. It’ll be fine.’

  He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples.

  ‘Thirty-eight isn’t great though, is it, Jose?’

  I frowned. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s just a stupid assessment.’

  ‘Well, it kind of does matter,’ he said slowly. ‘You won’t pass the exam if you can’t pass the assessment.’

  ‘You know I hate Maths,’ I moaned. ‘And you said so yourself, you don’t need Maths to run in the Olympics!’

  ‘True,’ he nodded. ‘I just don’t want you to … you know … struggle.’

  ‘I’m off!’ a voice yelled from the hall.

  ‘Wait, what?’ Dad shouted back.

  My little brother’s head poked around the study door. Nick had the same reddish-blonde hair as me and his face was peppered with freckles. He grinned mischievously.

  ‘I’m going scootering with Andy,’ he said, turning back to the hallway.

  ‘Hey, hey, just wait!’ Dad said, raising his voice slightly.

  Nick’s head popped back around the doorway. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Have you done your homework?’

  Nick laughed briefly, then stopped when he realised Dad was serious. ‘Well, no, but I’ll do it later.’