Stuart went with his father and his mother said to me, "That Donatello character was arrested last night. Stuart knows about it. Find something else for him to focus on, if you can."
Once he finished talking to his dad, I took Stuart over to a private place by the swing set and had him pretend he was in the blocks.
"Just think about running between the lines," I said. "And nothing else. Stare at the lines and only think about being between them, got it?"
He got into place.
Now it was my turn to act like the race starter.
"On your marks!" I paused for a quick second. "Set!" I paused again.
"Bang!" I yelled.
He took off and I called him back.
"That was great," I said. "Good for you."
"So I wasn't disqualified that time?" he asked. "That's a big word."
"You were perfect that time! And it is a big word," I said. "You went on BANG and that's exactly what you have to do."
We did it another ten times and then when I thought it had sunk in, I told him we should go back to the track area to get some water and stretch and get ready for his race. As we were walking, we saw the Best Buddies group. Justin and Anna came over to us, still holding their signs.
When Anna saw him she rocked her sign back and forth. "Go, Stuart, go!" she said, grinning.
"You're going to kill the 200," said Justin. He gave him a thumbs-up.
"I was disqualified," said Stuart.
"Don't worry about that," said Anna. "You have another race." "We'll all still wait at the finish line," said Justin. "And we'll be cheering for you."
Stuart nodded.
When it was time for the 200-metre junior boys race, I took Stuart to the start line. Mr. Rossi looked at me and nodded. I listened as he called out the numbers and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard that Stuart was in lane six.
"Lane six, Little Man," I said. Thank you, Mr. Rossi!
Stuart nodded and grinned at me. I blew out a rush of air. Time to give this another shot.
"Remember what we practised?" I asked him.
He looked at me for a moment, head tilted and, I swear, my heart dropped right to the end of my big toe. Did he not remember what we practised? I knew he forgot math equations from one day to the next, but this was different. Plus, we had just gone over it.
Then he said, "Stare straight ahead and think about running between the lines. And wait until I hear the gun before I go."
"Yes!" Okay, I needed to calm down, take a breath, and not show him that my heart was pounding too.
Mr. Rossi's voice sounded from the start line. "Junior boys 200 metres, first heat, line up."
"Go, Stuart. Lane six."
I inhaled a deep breath and held it as I watched him walk toward lane six. Once the race started I would get my butt across the field so I could cheer him on at the finish line.
My stomach heaved up and down, like I was the one about to run the race, only worse because I wasn't the one running. It made no sense. My throat felt dry. I had the jitters too. All the nervousness I felt before my own athletic pursuits, I felt now times ten. This was insane. I wanted this so badly for him I could feel it in me, in my body.
My heart beat through my shirt. Come on, Stuart, you can do this. I watched as he got to his lane. Saw him look down the track. Was he looking at his lines?
Run straight, Little Man. Just run straight. Simple. I'd made it simple for him.
Mr. Rossi waited as the runners got into place. Then he held up his hand.
"Runners. On your marks," yelled Mr. Rossi. Stuart positioned his feet in his blocks.
"Set!"
Stuart put his hands on the ground and looked forward. I swallowed, my throat parched.
The gun went off.
And so did Stuart. I swear my heart leapt out of my body. He was off! I watched him run, unable to cheer for him, unable to say anything. I felt frozen as I stared at his legs striding forward. He picked up speed, passing two guys on the outside lanes. Then I heard the cheering by the finish line.
I jogged across the field.
"Go, Stuart!" I yelled.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN STUART
White lines. I didn't look at the gun. Instead I looked ahead. I had to go around a curve at the beginning of this race. I liked the curves.
I waited to be told to get on my marks and get set. Then I heard the gun and bolted out of the blocks, shooting myself forward.
And I ran.
The guy beside me was ahead of me but I knew I could beat him as I went around the curve. I pumped my arms and ran in between my lines. I rounded the first little corner, pretending I was a race car, and caught up to him. I kept going. Moving my legs. Running fast. They felt like they were moving on their own, pushing me forward, and past another guy on my other side. I wanted to do this, run across the finish line.
I rounded the second corner. Then I could hear people cheering for me. I could. They were cheering at the finish line! Now all I had to do was run straight. Straight to the finish line. I passed another guy. And one more. I didn't need to look at the white lines anymore because I could see the finish line.
"Go, Stuart!"
I crossed the finish line and tried to slow down but it was hard because my legs just kept going, like an egg beater. Finally, I was able to start walking. Sam came up behind me and squeezed my shoulder. "You came second!"
"That was fun!" I said, trying to breathe. Holy. My heart was beating a million miles an hour.
Sam held his hand up for a high-five. "You get to race in the finals!" he said.
I high-fived him back. It felt so good to run and race and come second and have someone high-fiving me!
"Later this afternoon is the final," said Sam. "We need to get you stretched and get some water in you and get you some fuel." He gave me a slap on the back, and it was one of those guy kind of slaps, like he gave his basketball players. And his smile was the same, like I was one of them. The same. It made me feel so good inside, like I was full of fizzing soda.
We walked off the track and all the Best Buddies were there with their signs. Justin held up his hand for a high-five and I jumped up and slapped it hard. He laughed.
"Good job," he said.
"That was amazing," said Anna. She held her hands on her chest.
"You zoomed," said Erika, smiling at me. Zoom. Zoom.
"Yeeeah," said Madeline. "Goood jooob."
"Yes," said Harrison. "Excellent job. You ran significantly faster in the last 100 metres of the race."
Then suddenly my family was circling me, and they were all smiling and laughing.
"Stuart," said my mother. "You were incredible! I'm so proud of you."
"I'll say," said my dad. "You were crazy fast, kid. I'm impressed."
"He should be," said Declan. "He's been running since he was little."
"You never could catch me," I said to Declan.
"I could so." Declan actually laughed. He wasn't a laughy kind of guy.
"Okay, guys," said my dad. "We should let Stuart get ready for his next race." He pulled a paper from his back pocket. "Looks like you will do the 400 before you do the finals for the 200. Get some grub in you, kid, and some water. Important to stay hydrated."
"I'm hungry," said Declan.
My dad put his hand on my back and said, "We'll go for a bite and come back for your next race."
"Okay," I said.
Sam and I walked back to the track area where all the other kids were sitting, and we sat down with them. He wanted me to stretch but that was boring, so I picked blades of grass and threw them in the air. The grass felt squishy and soft and springy. Suddenly, I jumped up and did a flip because I wanted to because it was squishy. I landed on a lunch.
"Hey!" said the boy who I was beside during the first race. "You just stepped on my lunch."
"Sit down," whispered Sam.
"Okay," I said.
Sam pulled out some money from his pocket and gave it to the kid
. I heard him say, "Sorry about that. Go buy some lunch."
"Can I buy lunch too?" I asked. "I want fries."
"Let's go hang out where we were before," said Sam. He stood up and picked up my backpack and we walked over to the same grassy area we were earlier.
"Can I get fries?" I asked again.
"I promise, after you run today." He gave me my backpack. "And you can even order two plates. But right now, eat what your mom packed."
I pulled out my lunch and I had a turkey sandwich, which I liked okay enough. After a few bites I dumped the rest of my lunch on the ground, spilling out an apple, a bag of vegetables, and a stupid fruit-leather strip, but then I found something good. A chocolate power bar. I picked it up and ripped open the wrapper.
As we were sitting and eating lunch, a girl came up to us, and she was wearing jeans and had long, black hair.
"Hey," said Sam. He jumped up right away, like he was a spring. "Bethany." He almost said this like he was out of breath. I watched the little bump on his throat go up and down.
I stared at him, then I stared at her. They looked like Mary and Owen when they were in the kitchen and going to kiss. I had caught them once, in the kitchen, sucking face.
"Are you guys gonna make out?" I asked.
"Hi, Stuart," said this girl, Bethany.
"How do you know my name?" I asked.
"I met you before at the Best Buddies I Can Play event. Remember, soccer and running?"
Then I did remember. "I ran today and came second. I get to run again."
"That's fabulous. I missed your first run but I'm here to watch the rest." She turned away from me to look back at Sam. "I had a spare last period today, so I thought I'd drop by and watch you guys in action."
"Did you catch the bus over?" he asked her.
"My mother let me borrow her car. I have to pick her up later."
Sam nodded. Then he looked over at me and said, "Stuart, you're going to race in twenty minutes."
Bethany touched Sam's arm and said, "I'll let you guys get focused." Then she smiled at me. "I'll cheer loud," she said.
"I have friends cheering for me," I said. "On the finish line."
"Add me to that list," she said.
"What list?" I asked.
"Your friend list!"
"You're my friend?"
"You betcha," she said, giving me the thumbs-up, just like my other friends do. "I'll be at the finish line, waiting for you to cross."
She walked away from Sam and me, and I watched her black hair swing back and forth.
"Do you like her?" I asked Sam.
"She's my friend."
"Bethany likes me," I said.
"Yeah, Bethany does like you." He patted my back then he glanced at his phone. "But there's no more time to talk about Bethany. You only have twenty minutes, Little Man, before you are racing the 400. Let's practise your start again. Get you refocused."
"Will I use the blocks? That's my favourite part."
Sam smiled. "Yeah, we'll let you use the blocks. Why not? If that's what you want."
Sam made me stretch and do some stupid exercises, but we also practised the start, which I liked, and he reminded me to stare straight ahead and not look at the gun. He told me it was possible Mr. Rossi might not start the next race and I should be ready for that.
"That's okay, I said. "If I don't look at the gun, then I won't even see who is starting the race anyway."
Sam laughed. "Perfect. Don't look at it. Stare straight ahead." Then looked at his watch. "We'd better head over," he said.
We picked up our trash and put it in the trash can. Then we headed over to the starting place.
"You liked how you felt when you finished the last race, right?" Sam asked me as we walked.
"Oh, yeah," I said. And I did like it. It was better than when I shot someone playing a video game.
"Remember that feeling, okay? And go for it again. Just stare straight ahead and go when you hear the gun. And since not as many kids signed up for this race, this is the only one. No heats."
Sam was right, and Mr. Rossi wasn't starting the race, but Mr. Nelson was, and I liked him because he coached the basketball team. He called all us junior boys up to the starting line for the 400-metre race. I had to go once around the track. I could see my family at the start line and all the Best Buddies because we started at the same place we finished. They had signs for me. My name was on them. My name. No one had ever made signs for me before. People made them for basketball players, but not for me.
"You're in lane four," said Sam
"Why not six?" I asked. "I like six. I'm always in six." I wanted to be in lane six and I'd never ever gone in another lane when I raced. It was my lucky lane and I wanted to have it.
"They need you in the middle," said Sam.
"Why?"
"Because that's where they put the fastest runners," he said. He put his hands on my shoulders. "Listen to me." He shook me a little to make me look at him. So I did. "Would you rather not race and not have that great feeling of crossing the finish line? Or would you rather go in lane four and run the race, and feel fantastic again when you finish?" He stopped talking for a second before he said, "Your choice."
I thought about what he said, and I knew the answer. "I will go in lane four. Do they really put the fastest runners there?"
"You bet. Always in the middle lanes."
I lined up in lane four, like Mr. Nelson wanted me to. I shook out my legs like Sam had told me to do.
Then, when Mr. Nelson said, "Runners, on your marks," I got in the blocks.
Then he said, "Set," and I put my hands down. I looked straight ahead and when the gun fired, I bolted forward.
At first it was kind of hard because some kids started faster than me, but on the first turn I caught them. Two boys in the lanes closest to the grass were a bit ahead of me, and I wanted to catch them too.
I kept running. Even though my legs were boiling inside, and my heart was hammering against my shirt, I didn't stop. On the straight part I passed someone else, and it was the guy I didn't like. Sucker.
I kept running. Pumping my arms. Stretching my legs. I was over halfway. My legs hurt so much but I could see the next corner. I rounded it and ran around the bend, my legs kind of like propellers going round and round. I heard everyone yelling for me, screaming my name, like I was Andre De Grasse. Suddenly I felt like I was going to explode inside but I was so close to the finish line.
Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop.
I knew I was in first because everyone was behind me. I could hear feet, pounding, trying to catch me. I pushed and pushed. Forward. I was close. So close. The cheering got louder and louder.
I crossed the finish line.
I WON! I held my arms in the air like all the runners on television did. I tried to slow down but it was hard because I was going so fast. And when I did try to stop, my legs felt really wobbly. Like I might fall down. I doubled over and tried to breathe. And stop my legs from shaking so much. People patted my back.
"That was amazing!" I could hear Sam, but I couldn't stand up straight. Not yet. My heart was still going way too fast. Finally, I caught my breath and stood up and Sam hugged me.
"You won!"
"I know," I said. "Everyone was behind me." I think I was smiling pretty big too because my cheeks hurt like crazy. My legs still felt so rubbery, and sweat dripped down my face and off my chin. Sam walked beside me as we headed off the track and onto the grass area.
"I won," I said to my family.
"You sure did," said my dad. He gave me a huge hug too. Everyone was hugging me.
"I knew you could do it," said Randy.
"Will I get a trophy?" I asked. I'd seen the basketball players get trophies.
"You'll get a medal," said Sam. "And you get to race next week against all the other schools."
Suddenly all the Best Buddies came up to me, and Bethany was with them, and they all held up their signs and cheered for me. "Go
, Stuart, Go!"
"I did GO," I said.
"You sure did," said Justin. "Incredible!"
"When do I get my medal?" I wanted them to give it to me now!
"When the meet is over," said Sam. "You still have the 200-metre race to run."
"Since I'm getting a medal already do I have to run the next race? I already won."
Sam shrugged and looked at my mother. "What do you think?"
My mother looked at me. "Did you like crossing the finish line?" she asked me.
"Yeah. It was so cool."
"Would you like to run again? If you don't run again, that's okay, but just know when the race is over, it's over. It's your choice. What would you like to do?"
"You might get two medals," said Declan. "I'd run if I were you."
"Yes, but he's not you," said my mother. "And it is Stuart's choice."
"Two medals?" I would like two medals. But that meant I would have to win again. "Do I only get a medal for winning?"
"First, second or third," said Sam. "But it's up to you, Little Man. This 200 is only half of what you just ran so you'll be done quicker. But you decide."
I thought about this. I guess I could run one more race. It had been fun to run and win, and it was shorter so I would be done sooner.
A Time to Run Page 17