“Hand it over, Shayla,” Momma says, holding her hand out.
She can’t mean it. She can’t. “Momma, I’m just—”
“Shayla,” she says.
What can I do? I hand her my phone. So basically my life is over. Momma doesn’t understand at all.
27
Density
Without my phone, I’m completely cut off from the whole world, and Momma is obviously mad at me. I can’t even enjoy Saturday and Sunday.
After such a lousy weekend, it is no surprise that Monday starts out bad too.
My favorite jeans are still in the dirty-clothes hamper, and all there is for breakfast is banana yogurt.
I’m in a funk the whole way to school. I pulled some hair out of my usual sloppy bun, and straightened it, to have side bangs. I thought it would be a distraction from my forehead, but the style bugs me now. I pulled out too much hair, so the bangs are too long and my hair is starting to frizz already. I bet I look like an emu.
When I get to science, I scrunch down in my seat and wait for the day to be over.
“New lab partners today,” Mr. Levy announces, and starts calling out names.
I don’t bother fantasizing, because where did that get me last time?
Then something amazing happens.
“Shayla and . . . Jace.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to make sure I don’t make a squealy sound. I peek back at Bernard and he scowls at me.
After Mr. Levy explains the lab, I saunter back to a lab table, where Jace is waiting, as if I couldn’t care less that we are partners. But the closer I get to him, the bigger my smile gets. He smiles right back at me. My heart gets as big as a horse. Seriously, I have a huge stallion stomping around inside my chest.
For the lab, we have to pour different substances into a big beaker to test for density. We both reach for the honey at the same time and our hands brush.
Then a few minutes later, there is this one moment when our heads get really close together. Thank God I brushed my teeth real good this morning!
At the end of class, before I can get out of my seat, Bernard puts his heavy paw on my shoulder.
“Hey, Shay,” he booms.
I try to get up, but Bernard has me trapped.
“I have to get to second period, Bernard.”
“Maybe we’ll get to be partners again.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze.
I bet I’ll have a bruise.
28
Highlights
At break, Isabella and Julia are at our spot behind the portables, and at first all the bad feelings from Halloween come rushing back, but I push them way, way down. I decide it’s not right for me to be mad that Julia and her friends went to Six Flags when I didn’t even want to go. I still want to ask her about dressing up with her other friends, but I don’t want to mess with the good feeling I have about Jace.
He’ll probably be my boyfriend soon. I know better than to tell Isabella and Julia that, though. They’ll say I’m being silly.
I do feel silly, but silly-good. Like my smile spreads out to my elbows, and even my knees are happy.
“Are you okay?” Isabella asks.
“Yeah, it’s just . . .” I’m going to hold on to this feeling in private. “My mom caught me using my phone late and took it away.” That definitely wipes the goofy smile off my face.
“Oh, that’s rotten,” Isabella says, and she and I exchange glances. I’m sure she knows why I was using my phone late.
“So that’s why you didn’t answer my texts,” Julia says. “I thought you were just bent.” She flings her hair back, making it easier to see her new blue highlights.
I can’t even get mad at her for trying to talk like she’s so down, and copying Stacy’s highlights. Me and Jace are lab partners now and he smiled at me. Twice. That wipes away a whole heap of bad feelings.
I drift off to PE thinking about Jace’s green, green eyes and wide smile. Even though he jokes around a lot, he’s not really a smiley person, so I don’t think I’m being ridiculous to think him smiling at me means something.
I feel like I swallowed electric butterflies and they are lighting up and swirling all around inside me.
After the mile in PE, Yolanda says, “You sure do like running.” Her hair is twisted together on both sides, and she is huffing and puffing like we had to run two miles. “You smiled during the whole mile.”
“Really?” I ask, giggling into my hands. We walk to the water fountain together, and I wonder if I could trust her with my secret. Even though we have two classes together, we never talk about important stuff. Would she think I was being ridiculous if I told her about Jace?
“Hey, how come you’re always so mean to Tyler?” she asks all of a sudden.
“I’m not trying to be mean.” I know I was rude to him on Halloween, but I was in a horrible mood. “He is always bothering me, though.”
“He’s just being friendly. You should cut him some slack.”
I’ve noticed that Yolanda is sort of like Isabella. Nice to everybody. I don’t think I’m a mean girl, but I’m definitely not as nice as they are. “You should tell him to leave me alone.” I’m only joking around, but Yolanda gets a stern expression like I’m one of her little brothers or sisters acting up. She told me she has to be on them all the time.
But then she smiles at me, flashing her upside-down Y. “Seriously, Shayla. He’s not so bad.”
“Okay,” I say, but I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to.
When I get to shop later, I do try and be nice to Tyler, but he’s sort of like a puppy sitting under the dining table. If he gets a tidbit of food, he’s just going to beg constantly.
So I don’t snap at him when he gets me my shop gloves; I just say, “Thanks.” Yolanda rolls her eyes, and I want to tell her to make up her mind.
When the final bell rings, I just about fly out of class so I can get to track practice. Those wild butterflies are back in my belly, and I can’t wait to start running so they will go away, or at least they’ll get tired and relax.
I can run a mile easy now. I run and focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and I keep going when my side pinches and my breathing sounds like a saw chomping on stacks of wood and my hair gets hot and heavy.
Running makes everything bubbling around inside twist and turn and spread out behind me like wings. Julia hanging with her other friends trembles at the tips of my wings before twisting away into the wind. The butterflies from Jace’s smile escape from my belly into the air and fly away. Yolanda wanting me to be nice to Tyler scatters and whirls around me like a pile of brown and orange leaves. I don’t worry about anything; I just run.
And then it’s time to practice the hurdles.
29
Timing
Even though I always use my lead leg now, I’m still not getting over the hurdles easily. Because, hello? It’s HARD.
Coach West says my long legs will really be an advantage once I get the timing down, and I don’t want to call her a liar, but . . .
Sometimes getting over hurdles seems impossible. The only thing fun about it is when all the hurdlers line up and do high kicks. It’s supposed to limber us up, but it feels like dancing in a chorus line. Too bad it hasn’t made it easier for me to jump over the hurdles.
You have to jump with your leg (your lead leg) sticking straight out like you’re doing some flying kick into somebody’s stomach, which should send you sailing right over the hurdle. My jump right now doesn’t look a thing like it is supposed to; it’s more like a hop-leap-stumble. At least I have running clothes now.
“Shay!” Bernard barks at me, right when I’m going over a hurdle, making me trip over it.
I dust off my skinned knee, and I’m too angry to worry about Bernard being so much bigger than me. I stand up and my hands go to my hips. “What?” I ask, and I don’t ask nicely.
“Did you ask Mr. Levy to change partners?” Bernard walks up to me until he’s right in my f
ace, and I have to take a step back.
“No!” That never would’ve worked. “Why would you think that?”
“You seemed really happy about it.”
My anger seeps out of me like a leaky balloon. “Oh,” I say. “That’s just because I liked the lab. It was fun, wasn’t it?” This is a dumb question, because Bernard definitely didn’t have fun with the density lab. He and his new partner, Rebecca, spilled olive oil all over their table, and then before they finished the lab, Bernard knocked their whole beaker over so they never actually got to put any findings into their lab books.
“It would’ve been fun if we were still partners.” He walks away with his head sort of down.
I almost want to run after him, but I don’t know what I’d say. I like having Jace as a partner now. I dreamed about it. I can’t tell Bernard that.
I also can’t seem to get the hurdles down, and it’s getting so frustrating.
Angie makes it look so easy.
Coach West watches as I struggle to get over the hurdles. I bet she’s thinking she made a big mistake assigning me to that event.
A hurdle trips me up, and I tumble to the ground. Maybe a track made of recycled tires is softer to run on, but it still hurts when you fall on it.
I climb to my feet and rest my hands on my knees, breathing hard and trying to keep the burn behind my nose from becoming tears.
After practice, Coach West tells us all to huddle up. “We won’t have a real meet until track season starts, but I thought it would be good for our newcomers to see what a meet might feel like.” She smiles at me and my mouth goes dry. “So I’ve invited Oak Junior High out for a preseason meet. It’ll be fun. And we have two whole weeks to get ready for it.”
Coach West is smart, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. A practice meet does not sound like fun. And two weeks isn’t nearly enough time.
30
Face Plant
Today is the preseason track meet. Everybody in the whole school is here (that’s what it feels like, anyway). Posters have been up for days advertising it, and each time I saw one, I wanted to tear it down. The kids from Oak seem way too hyped up considering this meet doesn’t even count.
I line up for my first race—the 100-meter hurdles. My stomach is aching in that crampy way that means I’m about to get my period, and my palms itch so bad, it’s like fire ants are biting me.
I rock back and forth in the blocks to get myself ready and take a deep breath before settling in. When I hear one of the coaches from Oak call, “Set,” I make sure I don’t move anymore and just wait for the starting pistol.
There’s a moment right after set is called when it feels like the world stops. As if everything alive holds its breath. Blood pounds in my ears, and my mouth goes dry.
When the starter pistol pops, I take off, thinking, Okay, okay, this is going to be great. I go over the first hurdle, easy as pie, just like in practice. I take one step, then another and another, and am over the next hurdle, then I’m not counting steps, I’m just going, and I sail over the third hurdle and it rattled down when I hit it, but no big deal, that happens all the time, and then here comes the fourth, the fifth and then it is a bit of a blur, and then BAM! I’m flat on my face with a hurdle on my back.
The sixth hurdle, to be exact.
I am probably going to die. Or maybe I’m dead? Except I hear laughter coming from the stands. There are times when I hear people laughing and I think they’re laughing at me, but really they aren’t. This isn’t one of those times.
Coach West comes over and helps me up. “Happens all the time, Shayla. All the time. Don’t let it break you.”
I feel broken into so many pieces, I can’t figure out how to put myself back together. I slowly get to my feet, dust myself off, and start to limp off the track. I figure people won’t laugh so hard if they think I’ve twisted an ankle or something.
“Shayla, where are you going?”
“What? I’m, I’m going to sit down.” I stop when I see the surprised look on Coach West’s face.
“You still have a race to finish. You’re not hurt, are you?” She is asking, but I can tell there is only one answer.
I look down the track. The rest of the girls have finished, of course, and now it is just Coach West, the track, four more hurdles, and me. “I still have to finish?”
“Don’t you want to?”
I start to shake my head, because no, I do not want to. But there is something about my coach’s expression that stops me. I can feel sweat beading up on my forehead (that’s a lot of sweat).
“Trust me, Shayla. You should finish. You really should.” She leans forward and her whistle glints in the sun. She gives me a little pat and then whispers to me, “Get up every time you fail.”
I don’t care if he’s the one who really said it or not, right now I sort of hate Ralph Waldo Emerson. I turn back to face the enemy and start limping my way toward the seventh hurdle. At first the stands seem scarily quiet. And then I hear Julia shout, “Yaaas, Shayla!”
As I jump/stumble over the remaining hurdles, I can hear people cheering, and I feel for a second like one of those football players who go down for a hard hit, and everyone’s worried that he’s paralyzed or something, and then he gets up and the crowd goes wild. It isn’t exactly like that, but at least I’m able to smile when I cross the finish line.
Coach West comes running up. “See? What did I tell you?” She beams at me, so I smile back at her. But then she says, “You still have the 400. Are you going to be able to run it?”
I gulp. The last thing I want to do is run another race. “Um . . . I’m not sure. My ankle doesn’t feel great.” I bend over and rub my ankle. Coach West just smiles and pats my shoulder before running off to deal with some other runner. I bet she knows I’m faking.
I head to the grass in the middle of the track, and Angie comes over and sits down next to me.
“You all right?”
I’m sure Coach West sent her over to check on me, but it still feels nice for Angie to be sitting next to me like we’re friends. “Yeah, just a little . . .” My voice trails off, and I rub my ankle some more. I wish I had one of those long Ace bandages to wrap around it. That would totally make me look too hurt to run.
“That was a hard fall,” she says.
I just nod. The grass is crunchy beneath me and scratches my legs.
“Must’ve been embarrassing.” She stretches her right leg in front of her and bends over it to touch her toes.
“Totally!” For some reason, saying it out loud makes me feel better, and I smile.
“I’ve fallen too. No biggie. Everybody falls doing hurdles.”
I can’t imagine Angie ever falling.
Angie switches her legs around to stretch her left leg. “You were doing good up until then.”
“How would you know? You were blazing way ahead of me.”
“True.” Angie does this thing I’ve seen her do when she smiles and looks just like a cat about to catch a big bird. It’s a sneaky and proud smile.
“You’re really good at hurdles,” I say.
“You’re getting better,” Angie says. “You and the other newbies are working hard. I bet you were definitely going to finish at least fifth.” Angie gives me a soft punch on the shoulder to show she’s just kidding around.
“Oh, thanks.” I nudge her with my shoe. “So there I was running as hard as I could, losing, and then, wham!” I laugh.
She laughs too. “It was kind of funny.”
“Are you saying you were laughing at me?”
“With you,” she says and gives my foot a nudge. “And you got up and finished. That was great.”
“I guess. Coach made me feel like I had to,” I admit.
“But you didn’t have to.” Angie pauses for a minute. “So you ready for the 400?”
Now I’m positive Coach West sent her to talk to me.
I don’t answer. I’m feeling good now; why ruin it?
>
31
Bounce
Before I can figure out what I’m going to do, Bernard is standing there looking down at me. Oh great, I groan to myself.
“You okay, Shay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say.
“I thought you were going to win,” he says.
“Thanks!” Angie says sarcastically.
Bernard blinks a few times, looking back and forth between me and Angie, and then he grins like he is just getting the joke. A smiling Bernard looks just the same as a scowling one.
Angie stands up and offers me her hand. “We gots to go, big boy. Have to get ready for our next events. Right, Shayla?”
“Yep,” I say.
When we are out of earshot of Bernard, Angie bumps into me. “Looks like you got someone crushing on you.”
“What?” I almost trip over the grass.
If she had said Bernard wanted to crush me, I would’ve believed that. But crushing on me? Like he likes me? That is almost scarier.
We find Coach West and tell her I’m good to go. She doesn’t even look surprised; she just turns to Angie. “So what are you doing here? Don’t you have a long jump to do? Scoot.” Angie gives me a thumbs-up and runs off to the sand pit.
“Okay, Shayla, they’re lining up for your race,” Coach West tells me. “Just stay loose, okay?”
She smiles at me like she actually thinks I can do that. But no part of me is loose. I think even my blood is tight.
I clench my teeth. When I get to my spot, my palms start itching. I rub them together, but that doesn’t help—it never does.
The gun pops, making me jump.
I try to find a nice steady pace, but I feel like a mangled robot, all out of sorts and jerky. As I round the first bend, I almost stumble. Wouldn’t that have been nice? By the time I get to the straightaway, I’m in fifth place but closing in on the girls right ahead of me, and I decide, what the heck? So I push myself as hard as I can and pass the girl ahead of me, then I close in on the girl who had been ahead of her and then, and then . . . I finish fourth.
A Good Kind of Trouble Page 9