by L B Pavlov
“It’s a little after midnight. You have to be up early for school,” he said dreamily.
“Oh my gosh, I need to get home,” I said, sitting up quickly.
“I can carry you if you’re tired,” he offered so sweetly that it made my heart ache.
“I’m OK to walk. Thank you though,” I said, still half asleep.
Daniel walked me home and kissed me good-night. It was the best birthday I had ever had.
The rest of the week went by quickly, and before I knew it, it was Friday. Daniel had an important game that night; it was the game that decided which teams would go to state. I sat with Grace and Tom, and Devon and Preston had come home to see him play too. They sat down on the field with the team. Everyone was excited.
The stands were completely packed. We were playing New Harbor High School, and they were a very aggressive team. Only one team would move on, so you could feel the tension amongst the players, even from the stands.
Daniel looked calm and confident, just as he always did. St. Viator’s would have the ball first, and Daniel threw a forty-five-yard pass to Gomez for the first touchdown. The crowd went crazy. I could see Devon and Preston jumping up and down with the coaches. Everyone on the bench was celebrating with the exception of Blane, who sat the bench looking very bitter.
Daniel stayed very calm and reserved. He knew that it would be a long, tough game, and he was not one to celebrate too early. Both teams went back and forth fairly evenly throughout the first half. Daniel threw some strong passes, and Gomez was successful with most of them.
By halftime, the score was tied at fourteen to fourteen. Both teams walked off the field to the locker room for their halftime meeting.
When the teams returned, both looking ready to grasp their chance to be able to contend for a state title, the second half went by very fast, and the intensity increased as the time clock ticked. No one had scored, and it was the fourth quarter with four minutes and twenty seconds left on the clock.
Daniel kept working the ball down the field. With two minutes remaining on the clock, he threw a pass to Gomez in the end zone. The crowd went absolutely crazy. We got the extra point, bringing the score to twenty-one to fourteen, St. Viator’s.
We went on to hold them off for the last two minutes, and everyone was celebrating. St. Viator’s would have another shot at a state title.
Grace, Tom, and I were jumping up and down. Daniel was elated, and he spun me around with a giant grin on his face. We all went out for pizza and celebrated.
chapter 6
the race
It had been a busy couple of weeks for both Charlotte and I. We had gone on to win the state championship, and after that victory, I could relax. Charlotte was at the game even though she had regionals early the next morning. I had tried to convince her to leave at halftime and go get some rest, but of course she refused to miss watching us clench the state title. I was so happy that she was there with me to celebrate.
She had gone on the next morning to win regionals. Even with a little less sleep than normal, she won it with ease. We were all there cheering her on.
Unfortunately, St. Viator’s cross-country team hadn’t qualified for state, so Charlotte would be running as an individual. The following week she would contend for her fourth and final state championship. Katrina George continued to trash-talk Charlotte to anyone who would listen. She was working my last nerve by continuously making derogatory comments about Charlotte.
I was glad that my season was over. I would sign my contract with Notre Dame sometime the following week, allowing me to focus my energy on Charlotte. She walked out of her front door and toward the truck, flashing me a big smile. “Do you want me to take my bug to school today?” she asked sweetly.
“No. Why would you do that?” I inquired.
“Well, you’re all done with football practice, but I still have practice,” she explained.
“I will just come back and pick you up when you’re done. I like driving together,” I said as I opened her door.
“Me too,” she beamed.
Charlotte owned a black, convertible VW bug. She just never drove it because she always drove with me. She would need the car at Stanford, though, because I would no longer be her driver. The thought made my stomach wrench.
“How are you feeling today?” I asked, smiling at her.
“I’m good. I’m ready for tomorrow,” she said confidently.
“Are you ready to kick Katrina George’s ass?” I said, laughing.
“I’m just ready to race her and have it behind me. I can only control myself. I have no control over what Katrina will do. I have worked as hard as I possibly can, so now I just have to go out there and try my best,” she said.
I could hear the anxiousness in her voice undermining her words. I put my hand on her leg to reassure her. “I believe in you, Charlotte. You just go out there and do your thing,” I said encouragingly. I didn’t want to add to the pressure that she was feeling.
“What time do you need to be there tomorrow morning?” I asked.
“Well, Steph and Kathleen offered to drive over with Coach Miroballi and I. They said they would warm up with me and help me get ready. I think that’s really sweet of them, and it will help to keep me calm. I will need to be there by around seven.”
“If you want me there early, I can be there at any time,” I said.
“No, don’t get up any earlier than you need to. The race is at nine,” she said considerately.
I looked over at her, sitting in the passenger seat of my truck, and she was striking. The sun was coming through the window, and it was shining right on her beautiful face. She looked like an angel. Her eyes were a deep brown, and they were intoxicating to look at. Her skin was tanned and smooth, and I could barely stand to look at her lips and not press mine against hers. She took her dainty hand and grabbed hold of mine right after I put the truck in park.
She turned and smiled at me. “I love you, Daniel,” she said softly.
“I love you too,” I replied confidently.
She looked down at her right hand, where her sparkly ring with the pink stone shone.
“If I haven’t told you enough, I love that I always have a piece of you with me all the time,” she said sweetly.
“So do I,” I said, and I planted a kiss on her perfect lips.
The school day flew by, and before I knew it, it was time to pick Charlotte up from practice. She came jogging towards the truck. She was wearing her spandex shorts with a sweatshirt. God, she was beautiful. Her legs were lean with feminine muscles. Her frame was tiny, and something about her made me want to scoop her up every time I saw her. Her long, wavy hair was pulled back in a ponytail. It took every ounce of restraint that I had not to touch her every time I was with her.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” she said. She seemed calmer now than she had this morning.
“Did you have a good run?” I asked.
“Yes. I just ran a couple miles, and Coach Miroballi ran with me,” she said.
“Good. Are your ready for some pasta? I think your brothers were pulling into your driveway right as I was coming to pick you up,” I said.
“Oh good. I’m glad they didn’t come home late tonight. We can all have dinner together,” she said with excitement in her voice.
“That sounds great,” I replied.
We all pulled in to the race early the next morning. We wanted to leave plenty of time for parking and finding a good spot on the course. The state meet would be crowded with spectators. Even Preston and Devon had driven in late last night to come to the race and support Charlotte.
Everyone knew what an important day this was for her. I saw her warming up with Kathleen and Steph, and I winked at her. She looked over at me with the sweetest smile. I knew she was nervous, and I wanted her to focus on her race. I saw Katrina George warming up with her team. She was on the Sentinels, and her team was expected to win the state meet.
Charlotte k
new that Katrina was famous for going out extremely fast at the start. Her strategy was to go out quicker than usual when competing with Katrina and then tuck behind her, but keep her in striking distance. I was anxious. All the press about Charlotte and Katrina’s rivalry had drawn a lot of people o the race to see them face off.
The runners were called to the line. I was standing with Jack and Eric, and everyone else was dispersed around the course. The state meet course was the best for spectators as far as seeing the start and the end of the race. The first eight hundred meters and the last eight hundred meters were around a loop out in the open so we were able to see the start and finish easily. The runners would be out of view for the two miles in between because they would go off-road onto a narrow path through the forest. Spectators lined the entire first and last eight hundred meters of the course in order to watch and cheer.
Mr. St. John took to the megaphone. The girls were lined up in team boxes, and individuals were put in groups of five per box. There were so many teams on the line, and everyone looked anxious and nervous. Katrina’s starting box was lined up very close to Charlotte’s starting box; however, Katrina had her six teammates lined up with her, and Charlotte was lined up with other individual qualifiers in her box.
Mr. St. John made an announcement about Charlie Ford being the first girl in the state of Indiana to be attempting to win her fourth state title in a row. The crowd went crazy. He reminded the girls to run a clean race, and he wished them luck.
“Runners take your mark…Set…” and bang went the gun. The gun went off and two hundred runners charged across the field. Katrina George immediately took the lead, running at a blistering pace. Something unexpected was happening though. Her six teammates were sprinting out with her, tucking in a tight pack behind her. Charlotte was somewhere in that mix, and before she could position herself, they were shuffling around her, as if it was a well-thought-out plan.
As they approached the two-hundred-meter mark on the course, Katrina was solely in the lead. Two of her teammates had formed a line in front of Charlotte, one had dropped intentionally into place on each side of her, and two had dropped right behind her. They had clearly planned the strategy to box Charlotte in and allow Katrina to pull ahead.
Jack, Eric, and I were not the only ones protesting to the officials about what was happening. Most of the spectators could see Charlotte struggling to break out. She attempted to move out to the right, but they adjusted their speed to hold her in place. She tried slowing down to escape out the back, but they only slowed down with her, and the other one hundred and ninety-some runners behind them were closing the gap.
Katrina was pulling away, and Charlotte was in complete panic mode. She came to what appeared to be a complete stop, trying to force them to let her out, but the Sentinel runner behind her put both hands on Charlotte’s back and shoved her forward. I watched her fall forward onto the Sentinel runner in front of her. Charlotte slowly fell toward to the ground, and I saw the girl’s spike catch the front of Charlotte’s shin as she went face-first into the ground.
The spectators were stunned, and people were yelling for officials to do something. A yellow flag was raised to signify that someone was disqualified, but that didn’t help Charlotte. When I saw her hit the ground, I planted my fist into the tree next to me. I didn’t know how to handle my rage because I had never felt so helpless before. Jack had his hands over his mouth, yelling to his father to do something. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
Charlotte sprung up onto both feet, and although she would now have about thirty runners in front of her, she took off running. They were just approaching the eight-hundred-meter mark on the course, and Katrina George was long gone. Mr. St. John used the sound system that was used to give race updates to the spectators to make his first announcement: “Katrina George has a forty-second lead over the second-place runner from Canyon Springs, folks, as they make their turn into the tree line. Four Sentinel runners have been disqualified from the race, and they will be informed once they finish the race. Charlie Ford is currently in twenty-eighth place,” he said somberly.
Everyone who had seen the incident was in absolute shock. My mom and dad came running over to find me, and Devon and Preston were running toward me as well. “Daniel, what just happened? Why did they do that to her?” my mom asked, and I could see tears welling up in her eyes.
“Because they want to beat her,” I said with fury in my voice.
Devon looked down at my hand. “Dude! What in the hell happened to your hand?” he asked hesitantly, and everyone turned to look.
“My God, Daniel, what happened?” my dad said, concerned.
“It’s fine, Dad,” I said, much more distracted by the race than my hand.
Jack was running toward me with a small towel that he must have just gotten from the first aid station. He wrapped my hand in it. I couldn’t even feel any pain in my hand, but the towel was soaked in blood immediately.
I looked over to the right of where we were standing, and Jack Sr. was going ballistic. He was ranting at the officials, and Coach Miroballi was right alongside him, threatening to file a complaint with the NIAA board.
I wished Charlotte had just stopped the race after she fell. I hated the idea that she was out there with those girls. I could just picture her with tears streaming down her face, hobbling on her injured leg.
Spectators were talking non-stop about what they had just witnessed, and many people were saying that they caught it on videotape. I realized that the cross-country coach from Stanford was standing near me on my left. He had traveled across the country to watch her run. I felt completely helpless.
I was in utter shock. What had just happened? I had just turned the corner after passing the eight-hundred-meter mark of the course, and Katrina was nowhere in sight. Oh my gosh! I felt overwhelming panic wash over my body; I was so far back. What was I going to do? I heard what I always believed to be my mother’s voice in my head: “Charlotte, stay calm. You can figure this out.”
I started to process what had just happened and what I was going to do. I felt outrage growing within me. I never underestimated Katrina’s ability, not for a minute, but beat me fair and square for goodness’s sake. I would be damned if I was going to let someone beat me because they cheated. That was not going to happen. You better watch out, Katrina George, I’m coming after your cheating ass!
Something inside of me had snapped. I was not going to go down without a fight. No way. As I passed the first mile mark, someone yelled my place, and I had moved up into eleventh. I still couldn’t see Katrina, but all I could do was move up one person at a time. I decided to just count people as I passed them and try to move into the top five by the two-mile mark.
Something was happening to me as I passed people. I felt nothing, no pain at all. I was just focused—focused on one single person. I wasn’t going to stop until I caught her. I felt like I was making up time because I was keeping up the pace that I usually ran on my last mile. But it was all or nothing now, I had nothing to lose. I was passing people on every stretch. I knew that I was closing in. I just wondered if there was enough time to pull it off. When I looked up, I saw the two-mile marker a little way ahead. I would have a little over one mile to go once I passed it.
I saw Coach Miroballi up ahead. He somehow must have jogged in to find me. He wouldn’t be able to make it back to the finish line now to see me finish, but he knew he was where I needed him at that moment. I could always count on him.
I saw Katrina; she was in my sights now. I passed the final girl and moved into second place. I saw Katrina turn the corner and look back to see who was behind her. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I saw complete shock and panic in her eyes. You better be scared, Katrina George, because I’m coming for you. You shouldn’t have gone out so fast, you sneaky little snake, I thought, laughing to myself. Adrenalin was pumping through my body now.
“Charlie!” It was Coach Miroballi’s voice that caugh
t my attention as I approached. “She has an eighteen-second lead on you now. You are closing in on her. You can do this!” I heard him shout as his voice faded away. I thought about what he had said. Could I gain eighteen more seconds with a little over a mile to go? Well, I was going to damn well try. We would be entering the “spectator loop,” as I liked to call it, in eight hundred meters. I needed to go now. Katrina would use the spectators’ cheering to help motivate her to the finish. I needed to close this gap now. I surged. I challenged myself at every turn. I pretended that I was running the last one hundred meters of the race and then start over on each stretch. I would do ten-second surges at a time.
I could hear the cheering, the screaming, and the chaos. I knew my time was running out, and Katrina was distinctly closer in my view. She was approximately fifty meters in front of me. That was the closest I had been to her, even at the start of the race. It fueled me. She was out on the field now, and I was fast approaching.
The last sound that I heard was the voice of Mr. St. John: “Looks like we have a race, folks! Katrina George has approached the field to make her final lap to the finish. And I don’t know how she did it, but Charlie Ford is right behind her! Unbelievable comeback for Charlie Ford! But does she have enough steam to catch her? Let’s cheer these girls to the finish!” he shouted.
My last few minutes of the race were completely silent. The only voice I heard was my mother’s. She was with me, telling me not to give up. I could almost reach out and touch Katrina’s back, and there were less than four hundred meters to go. She was looking back at me every few seconds, which told me that she was scared.
I thought, you’re not so tough without your posse of bullies, are you, Katrina?
Everything was moving quickly. I couldn’t hear the screaming, and I could no longer make out people’s faces; everyone and everything was fuzzy. All I could see was Katrina as she made her final turn. We had one hundred meters to go. I pulled up alongside her, and she had no fight left in her at all. She was defeated; I could tell by the way she reacted—or didn’t react, I should say.