Girl on the Run

by B. R. Myers

  “Hmm.” I had a brief moment of satisfaction.

  He looked at the untouched pasta dinner in my hands. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Spencer missed supper,” I said.

  We squinted through the screen door, watching Spencer lie motionless on his bunk. Ben took the plate from me and went inside and sat on the floor by Spencer’s bed. They talked for a while, and then Spencer sat up and started to eat. My pride took a back seat, but I still smiled. Ben was a good counsellor.

  That night, alone in my little shed, I watched the clock tick off the hours while I panicked about all the horrible things that could happen tomorrow. I imagined Spencer getting mauled by a stray cougar on the course or chickening out of the race altogether, opting instead to flip me the bird in front of everyone.

  Then I envisioned Susan marching me to the end of the dirt road, leaving me to hitchhike back home. I could picture the long highway stretched out in front of me like my running lane for hurdles. Except this time I couldn’t see the finish line, and no one was cheering me on. I didn’t know where to run.

  My heart beat faster. I had no clue what I was doing. After the race, whether Spencer ran or not, I was going to be fired. I’d have to go home and explain how I totally screwed up.

  And then there was Kirk. I put a hand on my stomach—a new kind of pain had taken over. My only consolation was that we hadn’t gone all the way. If we did it, I know I’d never be happy with anyone else again.

  I was awake for most of the night. Eventually I blinked away the grit from my eyes, then showered, and waited another two hours before I joined Spencer for breakfast.

  I clutched the flat black box, and walked down the empty row of tables, finally sitting down across from him. We were the only ones in the main hall, but Lewis had especially made an early meal for us.

  Spencer moved a piece of French toast around the plate. “I think I might puke,” he said.

  I put the box on the table and pushed it toward him.

  “What’s this?”

  “Open it,” I said. He lifted the cover and stared. My knees bounced under the table nervously.

  “It’s your necklace.”

  “Well…it doesn’t fit me anymore.”

  “So?”

  “So I want you to have it. It’s a good luck charm.”

  He looked confused. “You’re giving me girls’ jewellery?”

  I silently cursed Lewis. “A guy could wear it too,” I said. “Look at David Beckham.”

  Spencer seemed to be giving it some thought. “It’s lucky?” he asked.

  I stared down at the necklace, now almost perfect again. I felt a tug at my heart. I looked up and met Spencer’s gaze. He was watching me closely. I tucked my hair behind my ear and squirmed on the bench. “Do you know that story about the monkey’s paw?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Whoever owned the little paw would be granted three wishes,” I explained. “Once all three wishes were fulfilled, the person had to pass it on to the next owner.”

  He looked doubtful. “That sounds gross.”

  “It’s a lesson about being careful for what you wish for,” I said, impatiently. “But the point is, all the luck for me in that necklace has been used up.” I waved a hand toward him. “And now it’s time to pass it along to someone else.”

  Spencer held it in his fingers, as if trying to guess the weight. I envisioned a new nightmare about him throwing it back in the lake.

  “Lots of guys wear jewellery. David Beckham,” I began, “is a world-class soccer—”

  “—I know who he is.”

  “And he’s got his own line of designer workout wear.”

  Spencer wrapped it around his neck. His hand automatically reached up and touched the silver disc.

  “It fits you perfectly,” I said, surprised and a little jealous. “And it looks really cool.”

  He actually blushed. We held each other’s gaze, saying everything without uttering a word, just like that time he stole Duff’s envelope. We were both scared about the race, but we knew if it weren’t for each other neither one of us would have come this far. He gave me a smile, and said, “Thanks, Jesse.”

  It was the first time he called me by my proper name. It was only two words, but it carried the weight of a thousand apologies.

  “Yeah,” I said, gaining a whole new appreciation for all the little mistakes that had led to me being assigned Cabin 4A.

  ‘A’ for appreciation.

  “Me too.” My checks grew warm and my eyes began to sting.

  The population of Kamp Krystal Lake tripled over the next few hours. Three camps were competing, but our main rival, the winner of last year’s triathlon cup, was Camp Skylarker.

  By this time, Susan had to have seen the pink signs with Spencer’s name, made by the cupettes. I hoped she’d at least wait until after the race before she fired me. I knew I couldn’t get away with this, but I’d made a promise to Spencer. My only plan was to avoid her, and with the extra campers crawling over the grounds, it was easier than I thought.

  Three swimmers lined up on the shore to begin the race, and I noticed, with a twinge of panic, that Mr. Baxter wasn’t around.

  The swimming portion began. Kirk gave us an early lead, and although there was no Speedo or cut-offs, I melted when he ran out of the water.

  Alicia took off on her bicycle, but after ten minutes, Tyler relayed the message on the walkie-talkie that Camp Whispering Pines had taken a twenty-second lead—huge in cycling. I ran with Scotty to the starting line for the runners.

  Spencer looked so small compared to the others. God, I thought, he’s only twelve. I took him aside.

  “Remember your training,” I said. “You’ll do fine.”

  His head swivelled around, searching the faces in the crowd. “Is my dad here?” he asked.

  “He’s probably talking with Susan.” I gave a small laugh, trying to make light. “You know, helping her polish up the glass case.”

  Spencer swallowed and met my gaze. “Do you really think I can win this?” he whispered.

  The sun beat down on us, and I was already sweating—still, a shiver ran down my back. “It’s up to you,” I said. “Are you determined to see this through to the finish?”

  “Jesse Collins?” A familiar voice came from behind me.

  Uh-oh.

  I’d know that whiny twang anywhere. Janine McInnis. She was always a top three finisher in the ten thousand, and also happened to be the best friend of my fiercest competitor, Tara Connors.

  She. Will. Slaughter. Us.

  “Hey,” I smiled. My upper lip stuck to my teeth.

  She noticed my flip-flops. “I guess you’re not running the last leg,” she asked.

  “Um…no.”

  Her eyes flitted between me and Spencer. “I didn’t see you at the meet this year.”

  “I took some time off,” I said, guardedly. She knew about my dad.

  “Tara had her best finish ever,” she gushed. “New provincial record for the one hundred metre. Did you read about it?”

  “Missed that article,” I lied. Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to stand taller.

  “I’m so happy for her,” she continued. “Tara’s lived in your shadow long enough.”

  I gritted my teeth, wanting to leave cleat marks all over her snotty little face. Usually I would harness this anger to my advantage by fuelling my passion to win the race, but since I wasn’t running, all I could do was turn my back and pretend to disappear.

  Scotty joined us, huddled by my side, not saying anything. One of the counsellors from Skylarker ushered Spencer to the start line. Scotty and I moved off to the side as the first cyclist came into view. The runner for Whispering Pines was tagged and flew up the course.

  “Don’t go ou
t too fast,” I called out to Spencer. He licked his lips.

  Kirk came up behind me with a towel around his shoulders. “Alicia is just around the corner,” he said. I fought the urge to hold him close and breathe in his smell of vanilla chai. He read my expression and put an arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “Spencer will do fine.”

  Liam called out. He and Duff pushed through the crowd to stand beside us.

  I watched Duff’s dirt-caked hands make signs to Spencer, who frowned, and then nodded with a smile.

  I was exhausted and still pissed off at Janine McInnis, but seeing the twins and the rest of the camp come out to support Spencer untwisted my stomach a bit. The guys were all in this together. Even after I was gone, they’d still look out for one another. Maybe this was what I was meant to do. Maybe this was worth getting fired for. I turned to Liam, almost tearing up. “What did Duff say?” I asked.

  “‘Avoid large circles of dry leaves on the path,’” Liam said, in between deep breaths. “Oh man, we barely got it done.”

  “I’ll go find Ben,” Kirk said, rolling his eyes. He took off before I could grab him by the shoulders, promising to stay with me, and not end up stuck in a sinkhole somewhere.

  A sudden cheer made me jump. Alicia came into view, grimacing as she flew toward her finish line. My heart squeezed up through my throat. I looked at Spencer, but no Jesse Owens quote came to me; my mind was blank. He took a deep breath and rubbed the charm between his thumb and finger. Then Alicia tagged him, and he was off and running.

  “Wow,” Liam said. “We’re in second place.”

  Not for long, I thought. Skylarker’s cyclist tagged Janine. She was in last place, but she could easily catch them. Taking Scotty and the twins with me, we backtracked and positioned ourselves at the five-kilometre mark, on the beach by the overturned canoes.

  Tara came by first, breathing easily. She gave me a nice wave.

  “Good job,” I said. “Now go step on some leaves.”

  “Oh no!” Liam pointed in the distance. It was the runner for Whispering Pines. I checked the stopwatch. Spencer was three minutes off pace. At this point I was hoping for a personal best, but it was so hot today. If he’d tried to stay with Tara, that would have taken all his strength away.

  I should have been the one running. I’d never been on this side of the race as a spectator before and the waiting was agony. I checked the stopwatch again, fumbling it so badly in my sweaty hands I almost dropped it.

  Where the hell was he? Did he fall and twist his ankle? Or maybe he was stuck in a booby-trap?

  I looked up at Cabin 4A. Suppose he just quit? We only trained for less than two weeks. I was a fool to think he’d take this race seriously. I can’t believe I’d risked my job and any further time with Kirk to help out that little shit. With my jaw set, I started to march up the grassy slope when I heard Scotty scream.

  He was beet red and sweaty, but Spencer was still running.

  A miracle.

  The surge of anger quickly disappeared. My legs carried me like I was flying. “Feet and lungs, Spencer,” I called out, running alongside him, “feet and lungs!”

  He gave me a thumbs-up and then turned the corner, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I stared at the spot by the trees he disappeared through. I took a few deep breaths and pressed the stopwatch to my chest. The feeling was unexpected and overwhelming. My dad’s presence was stronger than ever. It wasn’t the running that brought him back to me; it was the coaching.

  I took a shortcut to the finish through the soccer field. The runners would emerge from the trail, then do one lap before crossing the finish line. Both camps had brought substantial cheering sections, but the cupettes outdid themselves with several large signs.

  Although Lacey would never get on my Christmas card list, I appreciated the effort she put into cheering for Spencer. My eyes darted back and forth from the opening of the woods to the finish. Susan had been eyeballing the cup since Camp Whispering Pines had dropped it off. She was surrounded by the other directors and—he had come!

  Mr. Baxter looked over at me then squinted, trying to verify what he was seeing. The tweed cap soon made its way through the crowd, and I prepared for a showdown.

  “Jesse,” he said. “You told me you would be running.”

  “I lost a sneaker,” I said.

  “Is this some kind of prank?”

  “No, sir,” I said. “It’s not a prank. It’s a chance.”

  He crossed his arms. “I don’t understand,” he said. “If you’re not running, who is?”

  “Spencer.”

  He stared back, almost daring me to continue. I swallowed dryly, and I took advantage of his silence to plead my case. “He’s very talented,” I stammered, “and I think you should encourage him with this. In the short time we’ve been training, he’s made a lot of progress. Make sure he keeps running at school. Maybe get in touch with the track and field coach before September. But he doesn’t just have to do track, there’s soccer, or basketball…”

  A wild cheer interrupted my hastily prepared parenting advice. We turned to see the winning runner emerge from the woods.

  FORTY-TWO

  The main hall was crowded with almost three camps’ worth of kids. A full buffet was spread on the tables, and music was vibrating off the walls. The celebratory crowd from Camp Skylarker were the loudest, hoisting the triathlon cup in the middle of the dance floor. At the front of the room, Susan’s glass case remained in its perpetual barren state.

  I stood in the doorway, separated from everyone, watching Cabin 4A in the corner. Spencer’s wild red hair was barely visible over the heads of the guys and the cupettes. Since the party had started, a continuous parade of teenagers had made their way over to offer congratulations. I never thought I’d be so happy standing on the sidelines—make that floating on the sidelines. The knot in my stomach had been replaced with helium. I don’t think my feet were touching the ground.

  Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see Kirk standing there in his cargo shorts and red and white Kamp Krystal Lake T-shirt. We walked outside, leaving the music echoing behind us.

  “I saw you talking with Susan earlier,” he said. His voice rose up at the end, unsure. My heart fluttered a bit, knowing he was worried about me leaving.

  I stared at our fingers entwined together. He squeezed my hand, making me look into those milk chocolate eyes. I stayed quiet a few extra seconds, shamelessly enjoying the drama. “She asked if I wanted to bunk with another girls’ cabin or keep my shed.”

  “You’re staying!”

  I nodded. “Alicia called her boyfriend as soon as she got the good news. He’s on his way to pick her up.”

  A grin broke across his face. “Okay, then,” he laughed. “What’s it going to be?”

  “I told Susan I’m prepared to teach water safety, and that I’m happy staying where I am.” I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice to what I hoped sounded like a sexy whisper. “I’m partial to having my own place.”

  Someone cleared their throat, in that obvious way that you can’t ignore. I saw Spencer and his dad standing in the doorway.

  “Mr. Baxter,” I smiled.

  After the race, while Janine was enjoying her easy victory over a twelve-year-old boy and a skinny occasional jogger, I found out that Spencer would be going to her school in September. Mr. Baxter spent a long time speaking with her, and by the end of the conversation, he had all the contact information he needed to get Spencer started on the right foot—in a manner of speaking.

  “Nice finish,” Mr. Baxter said to me, for like the tenth time that afternoon.

  Nice?

  I grinned at Spencer. “A winning sprint for second place, with everyone screaming your name,” I said, “is a great finish.”

  “And a personal best,” Spencer reminde
d me. He reached behind him and then handed me a rectangular box.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  Spencer shuffled his feet. “It’s for all the training…and stuff.”

  “It’s a thank you,” Mr. Baxter explained. “I may not be good at time management, but I’m good at buying gifts.”

  I opened the box and lifted the tissue paper. I was pulled into a memory. I had begged my parents, but Adidas only made so many pairs to commemorate my namesake’s Olympic success.

  “Look. Dad,” I’d pleaded while pointing to the computer monitor. “There’s even a little flying golden shoe on the side.”

  “You won’t even be able to run in them,” my dad had justified. “Besides, they’re too expensive.”

  “They’re not like the runners you lost in the lake,” Spencer said, bringing me back to the present. “But like Dad said, he’s good at buying stuff.”

  My mouth hung open. I looked at Spencer, stunned by the generous gift. “You remembered” was all I could choke out. My hand touched the dark blue sneakers with the red and white stripes. I picked up one shoe and found the tiny golden wings.

  “How?” I began.

  “From eBay,” Mr. Baxter replied.

  Yeah, eBay for millionaires, I thought.

  “I can’t accept these,” I said. But I already had them out of the box.

  “At least try them on,” Mr. Baxter said. “Make the cost of shipping them worth my while.”

  Of course they fit.

  “Good,” he said, satisfied, then he shook my hand.

  Kirk and I spent the rest of the evening on his porch, listening to the party in the main hall wind down. I sat on a chair with my feet up on the railing, enjoying how my new sneakers looked.

  “I guess there’s nothing you can’t do,” he said, passing me a brownie from a plate that Lewis had dropped off.

  “I’m never doing that again,” I sighed.

  He put an arm around my shoulder. “Coaching?”

  “No,” I said, cuddling into his side. “Watching the race. I don’t know how my family ever did it.”

  “For the same reason you were there for Spencer, I imagine. I’m really proud of you.”