Seconds

by Sylvia Taekema

  “He’s my neighbor.”

  “He doesn’t live in that neighborhood. I should know. That used to be my neighborhood.”

  “He moved into your old house!”

  “What? A family named Johannsen moved into my house.”

  “Yeah, the Johannsens moved in, and then they moved out a year later when their dad got transferred. That’s when Spence moved in.”

  “Spence, huh. You guys tight?”

  “Not really.”

  “You guys over at each other’s places all the time?”

  Simon eyed Jake a minute. “Now and then he hollers, Hey, Patty, want to shoot some hoops in the driveway?”

  “Patty? What, like hamburger patty, potato patty? You let him call you names?”

  “No, Patty like Patterson, which is my last name, if you remember. It’s what you used to call me when you hollered over the fence.”

  They were both quiet for a second. This was not turning out at all the way it was supposed to, thought Jake. “What have you got against the guy anyway?” asked Simon with a sigh.

  Well, the fact that he beats me all the time and when I finally beat him I find out he wasn’t actually in the race, thought Jake, but he didn’t say it.

  “I’m going home,” Jake said finally.

  “Me too.” Simon stood up and slung his backpack over one shoulder. It was faded and scuffed. Spiderman looked out at Jake as Simon turned.

  Jake shook his head. “Aren’t you a little old for that Spiderman backpack?”

  “Never. It’s a classic! Love what you love, man.”

  “I love running,” Jake said.

  “No, you don’t.” Simon laughed. “You love winning.”

  Jake shrugged. “Is there a problem with winning?” he asked. “Isn’t that the whole idea?”

  Simon smiled, a little sadly. “Good run today, Jake. See you later.”

  “Yeah.” As Jake passed the results board, he saw his name again at number one, but the 3-D effect and the beams of light seemed to have vanished.

  Chapter Nine

  When he got home, Jake told his mother he was tired and asked if he could skip dinner until later. She felt his forehead and ruffled his hair and asked if he was okay. He nodded and went to his room. He looked up chicken pox on his computer. Simon was right—it didn’t just affect little kids. In fact, it was usually worse for kids who got it when they were older. Leave it to Spencer to ruin the race by not coming. He ruined everything. He had Jake’s shoes. He lived in Jake’s house. He probably had Jake’s room! He’d stolen Jake’s friend! Jake knew this wasn’t true, but he didn’t care. He had come in first, and it didn’t even count. If Spencer had been there, Jake might still have won. Or he might not have. He’d given every ounce of energy to that run. He didn’t think he could run like that again. And now, even if Spencer did come back and Jake beat him, he wouldn’t know if it was for real or if being sick had set Spencer back. Who got chicken pox when they were twelve? In the middle of cross-country season? It bothered Jake that he had won and it wasn’t good enough. It bothered him that he might not be good enough. It bothered him that people didn’t seem to take things seriously. Chicken pox. Puns. Jokes. Snakes. Rabbits. Spiderman.

  He looked around the room. It bothered him that he had striped curtains and Spencer Solomon probably had the hockey ones hanging in his old room. It bothered him that he was unbelievably hungry, but his stomach still hurt so much he didn’t think he could eat anything. It bothered him that there might not be anything downstairs that he actually wanted to eat. He didn’t even want to think about spaghetti or anything with peanut butter. It bothered him that all of this bothered him. What was the matter with him? Something had to change.

  He had some spelling words he needed to look over. He had some magazine articles he wanted to read. He had to figure out how to intensify his training program even more. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to do anything. He was tired. So he just sat on his bed for a long time. After a while, his mother called up the stairs that the phone was for him. He glanced over at the clock on his bedside table. The glowing numbers told him it was already seven thirty. He’d been sitting in the dark. He hadn’t even noticed.

  Chapter Ten

  “Hello?”

  “Jake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi. It’s Dave Driscoll here. I’m with the Diamond Running Club.”

  Jake had heard of them. What did Dave Driscoll want to talk to him about? “Okay.”

  “We’ve been invited to an event in Deep Rapids next Saturday, and we can take a team of five runners. I’ve got four. Heard you were the top-place runner in your division in the city league. We’re wondering if you’d like to join us.”

  “Are you sure you’re not looking for Spencer Solomon?”

  “Who?”

  “The top-place runner.”

  “Is this Jake Jarvis?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve got a list here with your name on top. Look, son, if you’re not interested I can call the next guy.”

  “No, hang on. I’m interested.”

  “Okay. Let me give you some details. We have a practice tomorrow afternoon. Can you make it?”

  “Sure.”

  Cedar Grove Conservation Area, 4:30.

  As Jake was writing the time down on a piece of paper, his dad and Luke came in. Luke danced around the kitchen, playing the counter, the table, the Tupperware and finally the pickle jar inside the fridge like a set of drums. He took out a can of pop, shut the fridge door with his elbow and whirled around, grinning. Jake’s dad was leaning against the doorframe, laughing.

  “Where did you guys go?” asked Jake.

  “A concert. The Cave Dwellers. It was awesome.”

  “Oh.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Shawn Marshall, Paul Biggs, Sam Jii and Tony Capelli. Jake nodded as Dave Driscoll introduced him to each member of the Diamond team. He tried to figure out who his stiffest competition would be. Shawn was tall and thin with thick, wavy, light-brown hair down to his shoulders. He’d look like a surfer if he wasn’t so pale. Jake wondered if Shawn would be able to run faster if he cut his hair. He wondered if he’d be able to run faster himself if he cut his hair. Or even shaved his head. Hmmm. He’d have to think about that.

  Paul was small, even if his name said otherwise, and full of energy. He was constantly moving, bouncing on his toes, jumping, rolling his shoulders. Sam was quiet, with a certain steady look in his eye. Tony was dark-haired, short and stocky. He looked like he could simply power his way to the finish. They were all wearing matching jerseys, silver with a diamond-shaped logo on the front made out of four triangles, two black, two royal blue. The two small outer triangles were stylized running shoes. The two larger inner triangles resembled racing flags. The name Diamond ran in block letters along one edge. Sharp. Dave had given Jake a jersey, but he wished the club provided shoes too. He looked down at his worn spikes and then at those of the other guys. Six of the shoes looked as scuffed as his. But one pair was new. And green. One of the runners was wearing the exact same green spikes Spencer had. Jake looked up. Sam. He knew it. Sam was the one he’d have to watch.

  “Well, fellas,” said Dave, “now that you all know each other, what do you say we get started?”

  The Cedar Grove Conservation area had a long thin strip of woods and grassy meadows that rolled out along the river. After doing a series of warm-up stretches, the boys started running along the path down by the water and then followed it up into the woods, over bridges and along the edge of a pumpkin field. Most of the field had been cleared already, but one section was still full of big bright-orange pumpkins. This is easy, thought Jake. No problem. He stayed easily ahead of Tony and Paul. He moved ahead of Shawn and positioned himself right behind Sam. He thought of passing him but figured he’d just stay behind this time and study his technique. When they came out of the woods again and into the open, Dave waved them over. They weren’t stopping alre
ady, were they? That was nothing!

  When everybody was together again, Dave had them sit in a circle on the grass. This is like kindergarten, thought Jake. Dave started talking to them about how there was more to running a race than just covering the distance. Continuous running helped build endurance, but a runner also needed depth. He needed a well of energy he could tap into at key moments, such as when he needed to pass or to finish strong. To win, thought Jake. Yes. He liked what he was hearing. Dave had the boys spread themselves out in a line across the field and start running as they had been, but when he blew his whistle, they were to do wind sprints, running as hard as they could, as if they were doing the one-hundred-meter dash. When they heard the whistle again, they were to resume their regular pace. When they had crossed the meadow this way and were back in the woods, they ran a loop that took them back out into the open and they did the sprints again. Jake lost track of how many times they did it. Finally, Dave put the whistle down and told them to finish with an easy run down the path and back to the parking lot where they had started. It was hard work, and Jake ached all over, but his mind told him this was good. Finally, he thought, watching Dave clap each boy on the shoulder as he said goodbye, here was a guy who didn’t fool around, who took things seriously.

  “Great work out there today, Jake.”

  “Thanks. See you tomorrow?”

  “No. We meet every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, if we can. Take a break tomorrow. We’ll see you Friday.”

  What? Take a break? No way. That wasn’t going to take Jake where he wanted to go. Toughness. That was his focus. Still, he was hopeful about the way things had gone that day.

  Thursday morning, Jake ran as usual. The muscles in his ankles felt tight after the sprints the day before, but he just ran through the pain. The weather had turned colder, and he puffed out small clouds as he jogged along. After school he was ready to go out again, but his mom stopped him at the door.

  “It’s sleeting, Jake.”

  “Yeah, I can hear it on the windows.”

  “I don’t want you to go out.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s sleeting, Jake.”

  “Mom, I can’t let a little bit of ice stop me. I have to be ready for anything. What if it’s sleeting on race day? I have to be tough.”

  She crossed her arms and smiled. “It’s not race day, buster, and I can be tough too, you know. I don’t want you to catch pneumonia. You’re not going out.”

  Jake sighed. “Mothers think everything causes pneumonia.” His mother laughed and ruffled his hair. He knew right then that he was going to give up the idea of shaving his head. He liked it when she did that. Jake went downstairs to work out instead. To his surprise, Luke was there, and so was all his stuff. Guitars, amplifiers, cords and wires running everywhere.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Mom said it was too noisy for you if I played in my room.”

  “How am I supposed to work out down here?”

  “Do it to the tunes, man!” Luke grinned.

  Jake picked up his hand weights. “You know, if Dad’s such a fan, you should get him to build you a room over the garage.”

  “Nice idea, but I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

  “C’mon. He loves your music.”

  “Me, yes.” Luke put a hand over his heart. Then he patted his guitar. “This baby, not so much. You know what Dad listens to on the radio in his workshop. Golden oldies and moldies, country tunes and hockey games.”

  They laughed.

  “But he goes to concerts with you. Why would he do that if he didn’t want to?”

  “Because I don’t tell him he can’t. Besides, you know that supply of earplugs he keeps on the shelf for when he’s using the table saw? He keeps a stash in his jacket pocket too, for when we go out to the bands.”

  Luke plugged in his guitar. “Why do you have to practice all the time anyway?” Jake asked.

  “I’m not practicing, dude. I’m playing.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Friday, the team met at Cedar Grove again. Jake was ready to go and jogged off toward the trees where they’d done the warm-ups the last time, but the guys remained standing in a circle in the parking lot. Dave was leaning against the fence, talking to them. Jake ran back to join them. He didn’t want to miss any of the strategy talk, although he was developing his own strategy about how to take on Sam. Stick to him like a shadow the whole way and then slide past him at the finish.

  Jake joined the group. They weren’t talking strategy. They weren’t even talking about running. Tony was talking about his twin sisters and the birthday party they were going to have that weekend. They were turning four. “Way too much giggling and screaming,” complained Tony. “My mom wants me to help, but I don’t know if I’ll survive.” Everyone laughed.

  Paul had a music recital that evening. He played the trombone. Shawn talked about a new video game he wanted to try.

  “What about you, Sam? What’s going on with you?” asked Dave. Sam shrugged slightly and smiled. Paul jumped in and told them how Sam had competed in the Math Olympics at school.

  “And?” asked Dave.

  Sam grinned and unzipped his jacket to show off a gold medal. Jake knew it. Sam liked to win.

  “Sam does fractions for fun,” Shawn joked as they all gave Sam a high five. “How about you, Jake?”

  “Huh? Oh, I…” He paused. “I run.”

  “No gaming?” asked Shawn.

  “Not much.”

  “No long division?” Sam added. Everyone laughed.

  “No little sisters?” asked Tony.

  “No music lessons?” asked Paul at the same time.

  “No, but I have a brother who plays music all day.”

  “What kind?”

  “Loud.”

  The guys smiled. “Well,” said Dave, “I don’t know much about making music, but I guess we should make some tracks. Let’s go.”

  Jake was still smiling as he walked out of the parking lot. These guys are okay, he thought. When they started their warm-up run through the woods, though, a familiar hard knot started to form in his stomach. What causes that? he wondered. Again, Jake followed just behind Sam. He knew he could pass him when the time came. After the warm-up, Dave met them in the parking lot and had them take off their spikes and put their regular running shoes back on. What now? thought Jake.

  “No wind sprints today?” he asked.

  “No, that’s Wind Sprint Wednesday,” answered Shawn. “Today is Far Out Friday.”

  Far Out Friday? Jake winced. Again, he felt a little like he was in kindergarten. “Did Dave come up with those names?”

  “No, we did.”

  “What’s Monday then?”

  “Mixed-up Monday. You never know what Dave will come up with. A little bit of anything.”

  It turned out that Far Out Friday meant they went for a long run across the city. The guys waved at everyone as they jogged by. Jake got the impression they took this route often and had gotten to know certain people as regulars. The lady walking four dogs. The delivery man dropping off boxes at the market. When they passed Ben’s Bakery, they all banged on the front window. “What’s that all about?” asked Jake.

  “Ben’s our sponsor,” huffed Paul. “He bought us the shirts and stuff.”

  Jake quickly scanned the front of his jersey and each sleeve. “How come his name isn’t on them?”

  “I guess he’s not into that. Just wants to help out. So we say thanks every time we run by. Show him we’re out here working hard.”

  The guys had stuck together loosely as a group. Sam and Jake, then Shawn, Tony and Paul close behind. Jake had been ready to pass Sam but wasn’t sure of the route they were going to take. Now they were on the way back to Cedar Grove, a hundred meters or so from the entrance to the parking lot, and Jake was ready to make his move. He wanted to show Dave what he could do. A cyclist zoomed by on his left. A flash of fur flew in on his right. A little d
og, leash and tongue flapping, ran right in front of him. Jake had to jump to avoid trampling him and came down sideways. He rolled onto the grass and made a grab for the leash. A woman came running up.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! Bitsy, you naughty dog!” she cried. “He saw that bike go by and started to chase it,” she explained. “He’s ridiculous with bikes. He got away from me. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” said Jake, handing her the leash.

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. The woman went off, scolding Bitsy. By now, Sam had come back and Paul, Tony and Shawn had caught up.

  “Oh, no!” said Paul, shaking his head. “Torpedo Dog. I’ve met up with him before. He sure sabotaged your run.” He reached out a hand to pull Jake up. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” But when Jake stood and put weight on his left ankle, it didn’t exactly feel fine.

  “Sure?”

  “Yeah. Just got the wind knocked out of me for a minute.” He walked with the others back to Cedar Grove.

  “Here’s my team,” said Dave as they turned in. “Good to see you, guys.” Dave clapped each of them on the shoulder. “Everyone feeling good?” Everyone looked at Jake. He nodded. They all nodded. “Okay. Do a light run sometime Saturday if you can. Maybe run off that birthday cake and ice cream.” He winked at Tony. Tony groaned. “Take Sunday off. Your body needs a rest. See you Monday.”

  Jake shook his head. Light runs were not his style. Neither were days off. He’d continue with his own schedule. He went to unlock his bike.

  “Hey, Jake?” called Dave.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you limping?”

  “No.”

  Dave looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

  “Maybe a little.” He explained about Bitsy.

  “Let’s have a look.”

  Jake gasped softly as he took off his shoe, but he tried to cover it up by clearing his throat.

  Dave felt the ankle. “Hmm. Not too bad. Stay off it for the weekend though. Should be okay by Monday.”