Run

by David Skuy

  Lionel’s heart felt like it would drop out of his chest.

  “I’m too slow,” he mumbled.

  “It’s no big deal,” Kiana said quickly.

  Gwen opened her magazine. “No problem. Just an idea.”

  “Sorry for the delay,” Rajeev said. He hurried over carrying a box. “This was buried under some other boxes. I must organize the stockroom better.” Rajeev looked around. He coughed into his hand, sat on a stool, and opened the box.

  This time Lionel’s heart didn’t just drop, it plummeted. An uglier pair of shoes he’d never seen. The color was only half the problem, which was saying a lot since they were bright green, almost neon, and the soles were olive yellow with a thin green line dividing them into two sections. But the most hideous part was a cheetah sketched in outline on the outsides, in full flight, paws extended forward and back, with a pained expression that made it look like it needed to go to the bathroom. The shoes’ tongues had a bull’s-eye symbol in the middle — green, yellow, and red. The laces were so green it was hard to look at them.

  Rajeev began explaining why the shoes were so fantastic, something about the use of ultra-light materials, the soles being filled with air pockets, and the tension and compression of the rubber calibrated to maximize thrust. Lionel wasn’t listening. The ugliness drowned Rajeev out. Kiana was trying not to laugh.

  “These shoes cost about five hundred dollars in a real sporting-goods store,” Deepak said, holding them up for Lionel. “A professional might use them, an Olympian even. Serious runners would kill for them. Sure, the color is a bit … intense.” He handed Lionel the shoe. “Once you put them on you’ll never take them off. They’re that good. I wish I had a pair. We just don’t have anything in my size.”

  “I believe we might …”

  “I checked,” Deepak said, cutting his father off.

  Lionel slipped the shoe on. Fit like a glove, a second skin. He put on the second and tied them up. He stood — like standing on air.

  “How do they feel?” Kiana said.

  “Nice.”

  “You have to run around,” Deepak said. “You can’t get the feel of a running shoe without running.”

  “Absolutely,” Rajeev said. “If you like them, they’re yours. I insist you have them. A friend of Gwen and Kiana’s is a friend of mine.”

  “You’re so sweet,” Gwen said.

  “I guarantee this will be the last blister of your life as long as you wear these shoes,” Deepak said.

  Lionel was too frazzled to answer. He went to the door in a daze. One stupid comment to Binny and he was about to run down the street in mad green runners. He’d be the school clown if any kids saw him. Nick would come up with a name, for sure.

  The Big Greener?

  The Green Snot?

  The Green Blob?

  He started off.

  They felt kinda good.

  Saturday: 10:15 a.m.

  Lionel tugged on the leash. Britney seemed more interested in sniffing than walking. They’d only gone two blocks in about half an hour.

  “Okay, girl. Enough sniffing,” he said. “We’re going to walk a bit faster.” It was the least he could do after Gwen got him the shoes. He also wanted to do it for Kiana, to show her that he wasn’t completely useless. He pulled on the leash and set off. Britney put her front paws out and began to slide, but once Lionel showed he meant business she ambled along for a couple of more blocks.

  “It’s nice to get outside, isn’t it?” Lionel said to her. “Why don’t we try running — real slow? Dogs should run. You’re made for it.”

  They began, more like a quick walk, and before long Britney was panting like a steam engine, her tongue hanging out to the side. Lionel worried she would make herself sick, but she seemed to be enjoying it — and he liked the shoes. With the old ones he’d felt a jolt up his back with each stride. These absorbed the shock.

  “A couple more blocks? Then we’ll head back.”

  Britney let out a yelp, first limping to a stop, and then crumpling to the sidewalk.

  “What’s wrong, girl? Tired?”

  She whimpered and began licking her front right paw. Lionel felt sick to his stomach. She was hurt; she’d probably stepped on something sharp. He tried to take a look, but the second he touched her paw she let out such a howl he let go. Could it be a broken bone? Had he gone too fast? Stupid. Britney hadn’t run in ages and here he was pulling her along the street like a maniac. Britney began whining louder and louder. Lionel swept her up and she dug her snout in the crook of his arm.

  He began to run back to the café.

  This never would’ve happened if he’d just stayed home.

  His arms shook as he raced past Big Ray’s. Britney had quieted down and wasn’t moving at all, as if she was growing weaker. He didn’t see any blood. What was happening? Maybe she was bleeding internally. He barged into the café. Binny was behind the counter by the espresso machine. Gwen was talking to a customer. Deepak and Kiana were sitting at a table with another kid. Lionel recognized him from Manuel’s Garage. He worked there a lot. Must be Manuel’s kid.

  “She sure is getting the royal treatment,” Binny chuckled.

  Sweat dripped into Lionel’s eyes. He wiped his forehead. “It’s Britney. I’m sorry. I got her to run, made her run, and now … something’s wrong with her foot.”

  Britney began squirming. Lionel tried to hold her, but she dug her paws into his ribs and pushed off. Lionel gasped. Britney landed on her front paws. He reached for her.

  “Don’t put any weight on it,” Lionel said, frantically.

  Britney trotted over to Kiana. She held her snout and rubbed her head.

  Binny handed a customer a cup of coffee. “How far did she make you carry her?” he grinned.

  Lionel stared back.

  Everyone burst out laughing.

  “She totally punked you,” Kiana said. “We should’ve warned you.”

  “She was faking it?” Lionel said.

  “She started doing that when she was a puppy,” Kiana said. “She cut her foot and my dad carried her home. Since then whenever she’s had enough walking, which is all the time, she flakes out and waits for someone to pick her up.”

  “I was hoping she wouldn’t do it because she doesn’t know you,” Binny said. “She’s smarter than I give her credit for.”

  Lionel was too relieved to be mad. “She’s a good actor,” he said.

  “You’re just a big fat liar, aren’t you?” Kiana said to Britney.

  Lionel could tell Britney loved Kiana. She wagged her tail and whined.

  “You’re not allowed in here,” Kiana said. “You know that. Back upstairs.” She squeezed her snout gently and gave her a hug and a few scratches behind her ears. Britney yawned, licked her lips, then marched through the doorway and hopped up some stairs.

  Lionel felt exhausted. “I thought she was really hurt,” he said.

  “You’re so sweet,” Gwen said. “Don’t fall for her games. You’re the boss. Next time give her a long walk. She needs to get used to walking again. Her master won’t take her.”

  Binny bowed to her and grinned.

  Gwen pursed her lips and looked at the doorway. “I had an idea while you were walking her, just an idea, but if any of you would like to make a little money, I could use your help with something, a part-time job, for a week or so — to finish what a certain someone has promised to do for years.” She gave Binny a stern look.

  Binny’s smile faded. “Whatever I was supposed to do, I’m sure I had a great reason why I didn’t do it — probably because all I do is work.”

  “Thanks for the coffee, Binny,” the customer said. “See you tomorrow, Gwen.” He left.

  Gwen grunted at Binny. “We have a room upstairs, which we’ve always wanted to rent out to big groups for special even
ts. Right now it’s Britney’s room, and it’s so stuffed with junk we can’t even …”

  “Hardly junk,” Binny said. His eyes had lost their life, and he stood stiffly, arms across his chest. “There are a ton of valuable, very valuable items, things I’ve collected for this place for a renovation. And I’ve told you I’ll get to it, once I finish the designs and …”

  “It’s been six years,” Gwen snapped. “Those designs must be incredible.”

  Kiana held her smoothie with both hands. Her body had tensed up, her lips pressed together.

  Binny shook his head. “I should dry those glasses,” he said, turning to the sink. “I’ve got no problem with you organizing stuff, but don’t throw anything out. There’s a fortune upstairs. I don’t want to waste it.” He flushed deeply and began to dry the glasses with a white towel.

  “I don’t want to throw out the important things either, dear,” Gwen said softly.

  Binny’s shoulders relaxed and he slowed his drying. “It might be a good idea to organize things into sections; that would help me … and I know I’ve taken too long.”

  “Exactly. We’ll put all the dishes in one area, the kitchen stuff in another. You know I love some of those dishes you bought. They’ll look so beautiful in here,” she said wistfully. “Binny is the king of the flea markets; we’ve got enough stuff to build four cafés.” She looked tired. “Anyway, I’d happily pay you guys to organize the stuff, maybe clean up a bit too, and … that would be a great help, and you could make a little money.”

  “I’d be happy to,” Deepak said.

  “Afonso?” Gwen asked the other boy.

  “Sure, why not?” he said. “How much can you pay?” He took a slurp from his smoothie.

  Gwen laughed. “That’s what I like about you, Afonso. You get right to the point. How about ten bucks an hour?”

  “Sounds good,” Afonso said.

  Did she mean him too?

  “You boys aren’t too busy at school?” Binny said. He was drying the inside of a glass furiously. “Lionel’s got his running, and taking Britney for a walk.”

  So, he was included. It would be cool to earn some more money. He could buy that new controller.

  “It’s only for a week,” Gwen said. “How about Monday after school? Can you boys make it?” Gwen said.

  “Whenever you want,” Deepak said. “I don’t have anything after school on Monday.”

  “I can do it, too,” Kiana said.

  “I’m good Monday,” Afonso said.

  Lionel nodded weakly.

  “Let’s do it,” Gwen said.

  Binny wiped another glass. He wasn’t keen on this. Kiana even looked a little scared. As soon as Gwen mentioned the upstairs, the three of them had gotten angry with each other.

  Without warning, Binny spun around and looked hard at Lionel. “Are you running tomorrow?” he said. “We only open at ten.”

  “I was going to …” He usually slept in on Sundays. “I can wait until then and take Britney for her walk — if she recovers in time.”

  He surprised himself with that joke. It just popped out.

  “Give her a good, proper walk, even if you have to drag her. Got it?” Binny winked. He sounded like his old self.

  “Can I get you a smoothie?” Gwen asked Lionel.

  This was his chance to leave. Kiana and the boys seemed like buds — and they were probably a little freaked out that they had to work with him on Monday. He’d figure out an excuse not to show — get sick or something.

  “Thanks. I gotta get going. I have to help my mom with stuff,” Lionel said.

  “Another time,” Gwen said.

  “See you tomorrow,” Binny said.

  “Take care,” Kiana said.

  Deepak and Afonso said goodbye too, and Lionel left. The extra money would’ve been nice. That controller was getting on his nerves.

  Without knowing why, he began to run back to his apartment. He didn’t even feel the blister.

  The shoes did feel awesome.

  Monday: 8:00 a.m.

  Lionel held his breath, and then slowly unclenched his jaw. The dull pain in his head had become a thundering, pulsating nightmare of a headache.

  “Mom! How stupid can you be?” he thundered.

  He thought his head would explode. His mom, literally the messiest person in the world, who left her junk everywhere, had thrown out his old shoes this morning because he’d gotten those new joggers.

  She wanted him to wear fluorescent green shoes to school? It’s like she wanted him bullied.

  His mind was reeling. He had to lean against the wall. Nick and Bryan and Mohamed would be playing football with his new shoes. He’d have to come home barefoot, and then he’d have to lie to Gwen and …

  He pressed the sides of his head as hard as he could. He needed to feel outside pain to stop the pain inside. He had to find his old shoes. He put the new ones on and went downstairs to the outside garbage bin. It reeked. No choice. He climbed in. For a second he thought he was going to be sick. He began to toss bags to the side.

  Everything looked the same.

  He began ripping bags open frantically. This was impossible. They could be anywhere. For ten minutes he kept looking, and with each passing moment, his anxiety got worse. He closed his eyes, panting hard.

  “Please be a nightmare and let me wake up,” he said to himself.

  He opened his eyes. He was standing in a garbage bin. The nightmare was his life.

  He was going to be late for school, and then Ryder would go nuts again and call his mom and make his life hell. He climbed out and went back upstairs to get his bag. He then hurried back to the street and ran as fast as he could to the bus stop.

  His shirt was wet at the back and under his pits. He took off his backpack. He’d need to sneak into the washroom to clean up and use more deodorant. Luckily, the bus came about a minute later, but then he had to spend a terrifying twenty minutes with two girls sitting across from him. They were giggling the entire way — no doubt at his shoes.

  Of course, he had to have English, with Nick and Kiana, so he was humiliated first thing in the morning. He made sure he was first in line, and as soon as the school doors opened he ran up the stairs and sat at his desk before anyone else. He tucked his feet under his chair and covered them up with his backpack. Hopefully, no one would notice. Once class was over, he’d fuss with his binder and be the last out. He sat at the back in science class so he could go in late and no one would see him. Then he had math. That meant more Nick.

  His legs began to cramp up. Awesome — thanks life!

  Too much running on the weekend. Stupid to run again Saturday night, and twice on Sunday, plus a long walk with Britney. Three times she’d flopped to the ground and began whining. He’d ignored her and each time she popped back up after five minutes and they kept going. She actually made it for a whole hour. Binny couldn’t believe it and made a big fuss and gave him a strawberry-mango smoothie.

  “Lionel, I’m not used to seeing you so prompt.”

  Mr. Whellan walked in. He wore a track suit. Whellan was the coach of the track and field team, so sometimes he wore that when they had a practise after school.

  Lionel lowered his head and shrugged.

  Whellan took a deep breath. “Is there any chance you finished your story?” he said.

  Coming early was a brain-dead move. Better to sneak in when the class was about half full. No one would pay attention to him — they never did. He’d do that for math. He just needed to keep track of Nick.

  “Sorry. I forgot it at home.”

  Whellan nodded a few times. “Yes, that can happen — certainly.” He paused. “How about this, Lionel? I won’t bug you about the story again, and when you remember to bring it, tell me, and you can read it to me after school one day instead of in class. Okay?”<
br />
  Lionel couldn’t believe his luck. He’d been dreading having to read his story for the past month — even thinking of it made his stomach queasy — and now it was over, just like that. He kept his eyes glued to the back of the chair in front of him.

  “But understand I’m going to have to give you a zero if you don’t get the story done, and I don’t want to do that,” Whellan continued. “So please make the effort, and I’d be happy to help you get started if you’re having trouble coming up with an idea. Just ask. We could even meet after school today.”

  Kids began filing in.

  A zero was the least of his problems. Teachers were so clueless about what really mattered at school.

  “Thanks, Mr. Whellan. I’ll try to remember to bring it next class.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Whellan said.

  “What’re we doing today?” Rashmi said, as she took her seat.

  Lionel could’ve hugged her for distracting Whellan.

  “Your favorite subject,” Whellan said. “Grammar.”

  A few kids booed.

  “Now, now, grammar is your friend,” Whellan said. “Think of it as a tool, a writing tool. It simply gives you some rules to help make it easier to express yourself. You use grammar all the time when you speak, all of you; you just don’t realize it. The grammar we use to write may be a bit trickier, but once you learn it, you’ll have a tremendous gift — you can express yourself easily, in different styles, too.”

  The entire class was soon seated. Lionel risked a quick look around. No Nick!

  The air slowly seeped out of him. The basketball game! He’d mentioned it after gym class in the change room. Huge break — massive. He took a risk and stretched his right leg out slowly and massaged under his thigh, and then the same with his left. Maybe he could go for another run tonight. This running thing was strange. He liked it even though it hurt. He didn’t worry about stuff when he ran — and his chest and stomach didn’t hurt, and it was something to do other than game.

  Whellan was explaining a grammar rule on the chalkboard, something about why you shouldn’t write is because. He looked out the window. Dark clouds had rolled in. His run might be rained out. Too bad. He looked out again. But why not run in the rain? He wasn’t gonna melt. Some kids held up their hands. Whellan must’ve asked a question. He picked up his pen and started to write the alphabet out. This was a classic trick of his. Teachers never asked you a question if you were writing something. One time for fun he wrote out the alphabet two hundred and fifty times in one class. The teacher didn’t ask him a thing.