Chasing Love (Mountain Creek Drive Book 3)

by Kayla Tirrell

  It had to.

  I would make varsity, get my letter, and join a club that I actually belonged in. After that, I’d get accepted into a college far, far away from Marlowe Junction, and I would finally stop feeling like the town outcast.

  I had one week before school started and cross-country tryouts. That meant, I had seven days to figure out how to get my time down.

  It was go time.

  Chapter Six

  The last week before school went a lot faster than I had anticipated.

  I didn’t work with Chase anymore, which was fine by me but had continued to run every single day—sometimes twice a day. My time was improving, and I had been right about that first timed-run being terrible.

  I expected a small increase in speed as I ran every day. What I hadn’t been prepared for were the drastic changes I already saw in my body. My legs had always been lean from my runs with Meatball, but the muscle definition was becoming more defined. I even had the faint outline of a six-pack. It was all the result of pushing my body harder than I ever had before.

  The lingering soreness was another side-effect of my hard work. I’d bought the biggest bag of Epson salt I could find and had been soaking in the tub every night, thanks to some advice from my mother.

  Even walking up to the school, I could feel each and every muscle as they moved with my steps. But it was worth it. I’d gotten my time down to twenty-four minutes. It still wasn’t the twenty I had hoped for, but maybe it would be enough to qualify for varsity.

  “Thanks again for picking me up this morning,” Amy said with a smile as we walked together.

  “No problem. It’ll be nice to officially start senior year with a friend.”

  “What do you have first period?” I asked as we walked into Rosemark High. I already knew but asking helped calm my nerves—which were currently on high-alert with the start of another school year.

  “Psych,” she answered, graciously not calling me out on being an idiot.

  “And then English for third?” Our classes alternated depending on the day of the week, so that third period actually followed directly after first on Mondays and Wednesdays.

  “Yep.”

  “Let’s try to sit together if the teacher will let us.”

  “Absolutely.” Amy stopped off to the side of the hall, and I slowed my steps to stay with her. “Nicole, this year is going to be great. You’ll see.”

  “I know.”

  “And if nothing else, you can always remember your hot summer fling.”

  My brows lifted in question.

  “Chase Saunders, of course!” Amy giggled as I smacked her shoulder and pulled her to the side of the hallway.

  I frantically looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to us, but all our fellow classmates seemed intent on their own conversations. “Amy!” I whispered-yelled.

  “Nobody heard me.” I lifted my brows. “They didn’t. And just think, your summer romance doesn’t have to end now that you’re working together.”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “And you love me.” She blew me a kiss and walked off toward her first class, as I moved toward mine.

  The halls were filled with students. Some walked the halls with confidence, while the freshman had paper maps of the school that they pulled out trying to find their first-period classroom.

  A girl who looked like she was twelve bumped into me, too focused on the piece of paper in front of her. Her eyes widened, and she started stuttering. “I’m s-s-so sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean to bump into you.

  I felt bad for her and smiled. She saw a girl who was older than her. Little did she know I was a nobody around here. Even if I was angry and decided to rant to the entire senior class, it wouldn’t hurt her chances of future popularity.

  I pointed her in the right direction before going off to my own class.

  My classes went by without a hitch. Although, I was somewhat disappointed that we were already jumping into things. I always enjoyed how that first week back was filled with going over the syllabus and classroom procedures.

  Apparently, after three years, they expected us to have everything down. We were seniors now and expected to lead by example—that included taking the lead in classwork, as well.

  Amy and I ate lunch together, comparing our classes and teachers, as we sat alone in the cafeteria. It was loud as students of all grade levels crammed inside to eat lunch in a short, thirty-minute window. The smell of oven-baked hamburgers and fries permeated through the entire room. Amy kept looking over to the table where Erin and Peter, and a host of other students from our grade sat.

  “Do you wish you were sitting over there?”

  She shrugged.

  “I know you were kind of part of that group last year. I won’t be offended if you want to move,” I lied, holding my breath hoping she wanted to stay. Even though we’d started sitting together the previous year, I worried she might want to start fresh with her old crowd this year. The new school year always meant someone was reinventing themselves.

  “It’s really okay, Nicole. I was never really part of the Care Bear club, and while I like Erin, I don’t belong there.”

  The Care Bear club, a name that used to send all the other first graders into fits of jealousy. It consisted of a small group of girls who all had matching backpacks on the first day of kindergarten. From that point on they were inseparable. Erin was a part of that group. She was a senior like us, and also happened to live on the Drive. And while they no longer called themselves that silly name, the exclusivity of their clique still lingered.

  It really was fine they had their group of friends, but I was overjoyed to know Amy didn’t want to leave me for them.

  I let out a relieved sigh, thankful to know I wasn’t the only one who felt like a bit of an outcast. “So, speaking of not belonging, did I tell you about cross country?”

  Amy’s head snapped up from her tray. “No,” she said the word slowly, full of suspicion.

  “I’ve decided I’m going to try out.”

  Amy spent several seconds scrutinizing me. The weight of her gaze made me uncomfortable. “So I know I haven’t known you that long, but you don’t strike me as the overly athletic type.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not.

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Then why are you trying out for a sport?”

  “Chase thinks I can make varsity. He says there are never enough girls.”

  My friend’s face made a dramatic change. Where there was once hesitation, there was now pure satisfaction. A sly grin hit her lips as she leaned forward. Amy propped her elbow on the cafeteria table and rested her chin in her hand. “Chase thinks, does he?”

  “It’s not like that.” I shook my head. “He just mentioned it after our second run together.”

  “There was a second time?” Amy’s brown eyes were wide. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t a big deal.” When her smile returned, I looked down at my tray. I picked up a fry and started dragging it through the ketchup I’d squirted in the corner.

  “Fine. It wasn’t a big deal,” Amy conceded. “But he thought you should join the cross country team?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “And now you’re doing it?”

  I stuck the fry in my mouth and made a noise of affirmation.

  “Because Chase wanted you to?”

  “No,” I answered swallowing my bite. “I’m doing it because I might get a varsity letter. I could join Letterman Club, and that would look good on college applications. Amy, I’ve got decent grades, but everything else is just blah. I have to find a way to stand out. To get the people who make those decisions to notice me.”

  “And you think cross country is your ticket?”

  I took a deep breath and sat back in my plastic chair. “I really hope so.”

  Amy examined me again. “Fine. I’ll do it,” she finally said.

  “Do what?”

  “I’ll join with you.”


  I was confused. I hadn’t asked her to join. I wasn’t sure I wanted her to join. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to do it with you. I can’t run very far, but it might be fun to do it together. We’ll be part of a team.”

  Ugh. Now she was sounding like Chase.

  “Tryouts are later this week,” I grumbled, and then the bell rang.

  Chapter Seven

  The first week of school went by quickly, and before I knew it, it was Friday. The moment of truth for cross county. I could barely focus on my classes. I had a giant bottle of water I carried with me the whole day, making sure I was hydrated.

  Amy made fun of me and said I was going to turn into a fish when I picked her up for school, but by the time we made it to English, I noticed she also had a bottle of water. A quick glance told me it was almost gone.

  I opened my mouth to tease her, but our teacher was walking to the front of the room and getting everyone’s attention. She wore a black and white striped shirt and straightened the beret that sat askew on her head. When she started snapping her fingers, I looked over to Amy. She had an equally confused look on her face.

  What was going on?

  Everyone was looking around at everyone else, and there were a few giggles coming from the back of the room. I turned to see one of my classmates with her hand covering her mouth. Eventually, Ms. Farmer stopped.

  “Good morning, students. Today, we’re going to kick off our poetry units. We’ll go through the romantics, the beats,”—she waved a hand at her get-up—“and a host of others. But today we will start with one of the most famous poems there is. It also happens to be one of the shortest. Open your textbooks to page 126.”

  The rustling of paper filled the room as everyone tried to get to the page as quickly as they could. Ms. Farmer started talking about the poet as we did so. His name was William Carlos Williams.

  I couldn’t help but think his parents were a bit lazy to give him the same first name as his last. Looking down at the poem, I realized the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. The poem, if that’s what you wanted to call it, was barely longer than his name.

  I hated poetry, mostly because I didn’t get it. I liked things to be spelled out. Anything that was open to interpretation was too much. I wanted a clear answer to questions, not how does it make you feel?

  “Nicole?”

  I looked up to see Ms. Farmer watching me. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her expression was serious.

  “Yes?” I asked, her glare making me uncomfortable.

  “I was wondering if you would like to share with the class what you think this poem is about.”

  Not really, Ms. Farmer. Not that I could say that. I quickly scanned the words in front of me.

  Wheelbarrow? Check.

  Chickens? Check.

  Rain? Check.

  Meaning? I was at a loss there.

  “Um… I think it’s about a wheelbarrow.” Some snickers came from behind me. “And there are chickens all around it?” It came out as a question, and I heard more giggles from my classmates.

  “Anything else?”

  I looked back down at the poem. Was she serious? There was literally nothing else besides chicken and a wheelbarrow. I shook my head as our teacher made a quiet, but obviously disappointed sound.

  I sunk down in my seat, willing myself to become invisible. Being the shy girl that nobody knew, versus being the girl that people laughed at were two completely different things. I did not want to be the latter.

  Ms. Farmer let out a sigh. “Does anybody else want to give it a shot?”

  I was surprised to see Amy raise her hand. When the teacher called her name, she started into her analysis. “I think the greatness of this poem lies in its simplicity. The image Williams paints here is incredibly vivid, and yet he only uses….” Amy stopped and started counting the words of the poem under her breath. “He only uses sixteen words. How many authors hope to paint a picture as clear as this? How many more words do they have to use to do so?”

  This time, Ms. Farmer smiled. “Excellent, Amy. Very good point.” She turned to start writing something on the whiteboard in front of the class.

  I took the opportunity to look over at Amy. “What was that?” I whispered.

  She lifted her shoulders. “I like poetry,” she whispered back. It was weird to think I was still learning new stuff about her, even after all the time we’d spent together these last few months.

  I rolled my eyes. She stuck out her tongue.

  The rest of the class was spent going over more poems, mostly by different writers. With each one, we were asked about its meaning. Mercifully, Ms. Farmer never called on me again. In exchange, I pretended to be paying attention.

  All the while, she walked around the class with her copy of the textbook. She was really into poetry. I hoped that didn’t mean this would be a long unit. I looked forward to the days of reading full-length books. Even plays would be better than this.

  When class was almost finished, Ms. Farmer made her way back to the front of the room. She set her book on her desk and turned to face the class.

  “So, your homework for tonight,” she started, and was met with groans from several students. “It’s not that bad. All I want you to do is write an original poem. It can be short like ‘The Red Wheelbarrow’, or it can be long like ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn.’” Whatever that was. “It’s up to you. Just make sure it’s obvious you put effort into it.”

  Like William Carlos Williams? I thought, but decided it would be smart to keep that to myself.

  Chapter Eight

  When school was done for the day, Amy and I were quick to get dressed out for the cross country tryouts. We both put on our soccer shorts, class of 2004 t-shirts, and running shoes. With one last drink of water, we both made our way to the football field.

  I almost turned around and ran back to the locker rooms when I saw who was out on the field.

  “What is he doing here?” Amy asked, seeing Chase in the middle of the field talking to an older man, who I could only assume was the coach. He wore a baseball hat, t-shirt, and mesh shorts. Around his neck was a whistle, and in his hands, he carried a clipboard.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you know he was going to be here, Nicole?”

  I looked over at Amy and lifted my brows in a dramatic fashion. “Obviously not.”

  Her face scrunched up in concentration. “Well, I guess we better go over and get started.”

  I followed her to the small crowd that was forming around the coach. Just like Chase said, there were a lot more guys than girls out here. I immediately recognized another senior girl named Victoria. I didn’t know her very well, but she hung out with a lot of jocks. The rest of the girls out there appeared to be underclassmen.

  There were quite a few senior guys trying out, but Neal Coleman was the one who kept catching my eye. I’d had a terrible crush on him sophomore year. And while I’d gotten over my unrequited love, there was no denying how attractive he was.

  Some of the other students were bouncing on their toes or stretching. I could only assume they were the pros, returning for their second or third year. Meanwhile, I had only discovered it was an actual sport.

  Amy and I stood there silently watching the scene before us as we were waiting for the tryouts to begin. I was careful to keep my gaze from Chase and instead smiled at some of the people I recognized.

  At some point, Neal walked over, seemingly taking my attention as an invitation.

  “Hey, Amy.” He flashed a smile in her direction. “Nikki,” he said facing me.

  I gave a side look in Amy’s direction. Her face showed barely restrained laughter. I debated on whether I should correct him but decided against it. I didn’t want to come across as cranky on my first day.

  “Hi, Neal. Did you run cross country last year?”

  “Sure did.”

  He went on and on about how he was one of the best guys on the t
eam last year, and now that he was a senior and some of the other guys had graduated, he was sure to be the fastest. Neal told us about how he was going to make it to regionals. He told us all about how he would make it to State. He told us about how wonderful he was.

  It sounded like he’d taken a page from the Chase Saunders handbook. What was it about cute guys being so cocky? I just hoped the coach would hurry up and get tryouts started.

  He must have heard my silent plea because just as I was about to get sick all over Neal’s shoes, the coach was blowing his whistle, and everyone was gathering around him.

  “Looks like we have a few new faces this year. Excellent.” He took his time looking around the crowd of students standing around. “I’m Coach Smith, the cross country coach. I’ve been taking Rosemark runners to State for the last five years. I expect this year to be no different.”

  “Let’s get started with a little warm-up and stretching. Neal, I’d like you to lead it for me.”

  He gave a small salute before barking out orders. “Two laps around the track and then let's meet back under the tree for stretches.”

  Everyone started jogging around the track. Once everyone started, Chase brought up the rear.

  Amy and I kept pace for the first trip around the track, but once we finished that first lap, she stopped. I slowed my pace to stay with her.

  “Oh… wow…” she panted between heavy breaths. “I didn’t… realize… how out… of shape I was…”

  I was barely breaking a sweat but told her I would finish the second lap by her side.

  “You don’t have… to do that…” she said. “Go ahead… I’ll catch up.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could say anything, Chase was walking up and in between the two of us. “She’s right, Nicole,” he said, his face serious. “Finish running this lap. I’ll stay with Amy.”

  I looked over to Amy to gauge her reaction, but she looked as surprised as I was. She tipped her chin. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

  I gave her one more look, taking care not to look back toward Chase before taking off again. I was far behind everyone else by this point but was determined to make up for it. I started running faster as I went around the track and met up with everyone under the tree. They were all forming a circle, with Neal in the center.