Run

by David Skuy

  “Sorry for asking about your dad,” Kiana said finally. “It must’ve been a hard thing to go through.”

  “I guess.”

  She looked over, as if expecting him to say more.

  “I don’t think much about it, to be honest,” he said. “I mean, he left, his choice. Nothing I can do about it. If he doesn’t want to see me …”

  “How often do you see him, then?”

  “Not too often — basically, never.”

  The sound of their feet, the clicking of Britney’s nails, created a rhythm of sorts, a soft, comforting sound. The ravine was up ahead. He wondered what it would be like to keep going, with her, until he couldn’t go any further.

  Saturday: 9:21 a.m.

  Kiana and Lionel stopped at the top of the hill where the path led down to the ravine. People passed on the sidewalk.

  “Let’s wait on the grass,” Kiana said.

  He followed her down the hill a bit. Somehow they’d gotten way ahead. He figured the others must’ve hit some red lights. Kiana sat down and stretched her legs out. They were long and strong-looking, but still slender. He forced himself not to look. He sat down far enough away that she wouldn’t be grossed out by his sweat.

  “You’re dressed like it’s the middle of January,” she said, with a laugh. “I’d be melting if I wore that.”

  She had no idea. He shrugged and looked away.

  “Hmm. Okay, let’s not talk fashion.” She sat up, her face bright, and looked keenly at him. “On Monday, are you going to read your story?”

  She needed to stop with that. He never should’ve told her.

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s a great-sounding story. Just read it or Whellan’s going to give you a zero.”

  “Okay. Maybe,” he said.

  “You were going to send it to me,” she said. “I’ll read it tonight if you want.”

  “I … uh … Maybe if I get it done.”

  Georgina ran across the street, puffing fairly hard. “My feet are killing me,” she said. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “You should get a pair like Lionel,” Kiana said.

  “I love them,” Georgina said. “Where’d you get them?”

  “At Deepak’s … I mean, at his dad’s store,” Lionel said.

  “The Green Machine,” Kiana declared. “He’s a born runner.”

  “Do they have jet packs in them?” Georgina said. “I knew Kiana could run, but I can’t believe how fast you are.”

  Lionel allowed himself a smile.

  “I wonder if they come in black,” Georgina said.

  The boys staggered over. Afonso put his hands on his knees. He was breathing heavily. Deepak threw himself on the grass.

  “Can’t breathe. Can’t move. Leave me here to die,” Deepak said.

  “You’re doing okay,” Georgina said.

  “You’ll make it,” Kiana said.

  “You’re insane,” Deepak said.

  “I say we kick Deepak outta the Marketeers for excessive whining,” Afonso said.

  Lionel shot Kiana a concerned look.

  “He’s kidding,” Kiana whispered.

  Deepak raised his head and then let it flop back. “I say Kiana and Lionel carry me.”

  “I want in on that being carried thing,” Afonso said.

  “You guys are doing great,” Kiana said. “I’ve been training for two months already, and Lionel runs all the time.”

  That lie was officially out of control.

  “We should get going,” Kiana said, getting up. “We shouldn’t let ourselves cool down — muscles will get tight.”

  “Fine,” Deepak grumbled. He stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Help me up at least.”

  He held out his hand. Afonso took it and pulled. Deepak’s shoulders lifted off the ground — and then collapsed back.

  Kiana and Georgina took his other hand, and all three of them heaved on the count of three.

  Deepak beat his chest weakly with his fists and let out a pathetic Tarzan call. He rolled his neck and did a deep knee bend. “Ready to run back or die trying.”

  “That should be the Marketeers’ battle cry,” Afonso said. “Run or Death.”

  “That’s maybe not as inspiring as the Musketeers’ ‘All for one and one for all,’” Kiana said, “but it gets the job done.” She looked at Lionel. “I brought my copy of The Three Musketeers. Remind me to give it to you.”

  “Great. Thanks,” Lionel croaked.

  Now he was going to have to read it.

  “Run or Death,” Deepak cried, and he started off.

  “I knew it would catch on,” Afonso said. He ran across the street after him.

  Georgina hopped up on her toes. “See ya back at the café.” She took a few steps and then turned back. “You should carry me. I’m the lightest.”

  “I’ll let Lionel do it. He could carry all four of us and still win,” Kiana said.

  Lionel wondered why she’d say a ridiculous thing like that. Made no sense.

  “Run or Death!” Georgina said, thrusting her right fist over her head.

  Georgina was different somehow during this run, more relaxed. She looked like a little kitten, a black kitten naturally, but a cute one. She was a nice-looking girl, not like Kiana, but still nice.

  “C’mon, Lionel,” Kiana said. “You in the mood to hoof it? I’m feeling stoked and Britney’s on fire.”

  “I guess.”

  “Green light means go,” Kiana said, digging her elbow into his ribs. She raced across the intersection.

  Lionel gave Britney’s leash a tug. It didn’t take long to catch Kiana. Britney was on fire. All she seemed to want to do was run. They ran past Kiana.

  “I knew you were gonna cheat,” Kiana said.

  “Your dog’s gone mad,” he said over his shoulder.

  Next they tore past Georgina.

  “I want those shoes,” Georgina called out.

  As usual, he couldn’t think of a joke. Deepak and Afonso were next.

  “Boo!” Afonso jeered, as he passed them. “Big show off.”

  “I’d run fast too — if I wasn’t slow,” Deepak said.

  It didn’t sound like chirping — and he was an expert on that. Sounded more like they were trying to be funny. He wanted to say something funny back, but as usual, nothing came to mind.

  So he kept running.

  The lights were cooperating and he kept hitting the greens. He turned the final corner and cruised to Binny’s.

  “You did great, Brit,” he said, petting her back.

  Britney’s sides were heaving and her tongue hung out of her mouth.

  “I think you’re getting skinnier,” he said. “Maybe you haven’t lost five pounds, but you will if you keep this up.”

  Truth was, Lionel was losing weight too. Hard to know for sure, but he’d had to tighten his belt a couple notches for his jeans, and his stomach felt less jiggly, at least a little. Probably all in his head.

  He looked up the street and almost did a double-take. Kiana was still half a block back. How dumb was he? He’d had a chance to run with her and maybe talk about something. Instead, Mister Fat and Stupid gallops off like a racehorse. He tried to think of something clever to say.

  “When did you learn to run like that?” she said, breathlessly.

  “I wasn’t that fast,” he said.

  “Wrong, you are very fast,” she said.

  “Not really — I got lucky — hit some green lights,” he said.She crossed her arms. “Accept it, Lionel. You’re fast,” she said in an even tone.

  Lionel looked down at the pavement and pretended he needed to stretch so he wouldn’t look like a goof.

  Kiana opened the café door. “I’m looking forward to hearing your story on Monday,” she said.
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  The door closed before he could answer.

  Monday: 9:45 a.m.

  Abidemi felt a sting in his leg and then his back. He staggered a few more steps — and fell face first to the hard, dry ground. He couldn’t move.

  Rat-a tat-tat.

  The machine guns kept firing, relentlessly.

  “Abidemi, get up. We’re almost there. The border is just over that hill.”

  He raised his head. His legs were dead. “I’m hit, Gebburza. I can’t. You have to take care of them. Go.”

  The crackle of gunfire whistled overhead. Abidemi saw the others running. A few border guards provided cover by firing back at the rebels.

  “You have to go,” Abidemi said, pushing her away. “You’ll get caught. They need you.”

  “I’m not leaving you. We’re so close.”

  He smiled and gripped her hand. “This is how it has to be. Go,” he said firmly.

  He was worried his strength would fail him before he convinced her to get across the border — to safety.

  Gebbuza wiped the tears from her eyes. Abidemi knew she could do it. She was tough — as tough as any of them. Gebbuza squeezed his hand, and then ran off without looking back.

  He was able to watch her until she disappeared over the hill, then his head fell back. The pain was gone, but now he was cold, terribly cold, even though the sun burned brightly in the sky.

  The gunfire stopped.

  He smiled to himself. They’d crossed a desert, waded a raging river, fought off wild animals, hid from rebels — and now they were free. A bunch of kids, and they’d done it. Abidemi cast a last, wistful look to the sky. So close. Better to remember Gebbuza’s face, her eyes, her voice.

  The light faded.

  “This one’s dead,” the rebel said. “Do you want his clothes?”

  He kicked Abidemi’s lifeless body.

  “What are we going to do with those rags? The hyenas will take care of the body,” the commander said. “Back to the base. Move out.”

  The commander walked away, and the others followed close behind. The rebel who kicked Abidemi waited until they’d gone ahead. He turned and bent down.

  “Goodbye, little brother,” he said. “At least you don’t have to fight anymore. Say hello to Mother and Father in heaven. I know I will never see them again.”

  He wiped away a tear, cast a longing look at the border, and followed his unit back into the jungle.

  Lionel lowered his papers to the desk. His palms were hot and damp. A drop of sweat dripped down the back of his neck. He was so light-headed, he wondered if he was getting sick again. The class was dead quiet. Whellan had a surprised look on his face.

  Lionel had done it — read his story in class. He’d done it for Kiana. He couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing her. He couldn’t.

  “I am … Wow … I’m kinda at a loss for words,” Whellan said. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting anything like that. I loved it. Your story has all the elements we’ve been speaking about: character development, plot, climax, pathos. It had moments of humor, of drama, tragedy. You’ve obviously done a lot of work to learn so much about the civil war in the Congo.” He looked around the class. “Comments?”

  Lionel gripped the edges of his papers. Stephane’s hand went up. Lionel closed his eyes. “Please don’t,” he thought. “Please don’t make me like you.”

  “I felt like I was there, with those kids, as they went from village to village, hiding from soldiers and looking for a way to cross the border to safety,” Stephane gushed. “I was on the edge of my seat a few times wondering if they’d make it. It’s sad that the leader, Abidemi, died. I wanted him to survive. But maybe it would’ve been unrealistic if everyone made it.”

  “I saw a documentary on Africa, recently,” Angelina said. “It was about child soldiers and how kids are forced to fight, and they make them take drugs and beat them if they don’t do what they’re told. Lionel’s story reminded me of that, how unfair the world can be, especially to kids.”

  “I liked the part at the end, when they ran for the border and the guns were firing at them,” Jaime said.

  The bell rang.

  Whellan tossed his hands in the air. “Typical. Just when an interesting discussion starts, we have to leave. That’s school for you. Unfortunately, we have to deal with more grammar Thursday because we have a test coming up.” Nick and Bryan booed and Whellan bowed his head. “Sorry, but that’s another reality of school. Remind me and we can pick this discussion up next week because it’s an important topic involving kids your age, and obviously there are people here knowledgeable about it. Good work, Lionel. It was worth the wait. Now I gotta scoot to a staff meeting, so I apologize for the hasty departure. See you in three days.” Whellan nodded to the class, scooped up his satchel, and left.

  Lionel’s ears and neck tingled. Saved by the bell. The kids were going to come at him now. A quick getaway was the only play. He needed to disappear, and no way he was coming to class Thursday. He needed to get the flu real quick — and for a week. Dumbest thing he’d ever done: try to impress a girl he barely knew, who put up with him because they ran together a few times a week. He got up.

  “Hey, Congo Man, you get those choice shoes from Africa?” Nick said.

  “I didn’t notice those beauties,” Bryan said. “Were they the last pair of shoes in the world and you had to buy them?”

  Stephane snuck past and shot him a sympathetic look. A few other kids kept their eyes firmly on the floor as they left. Lionel didn’t blame them. He would’ve done the same — in a heartbeat. They were doing the smart thing.

  “In my opinion, Mr. Whellan,” Nick said, in a high-pitched voice, “it’s too bad those kids didn’t get wasted right away so we didn’t have to suffer through that lame story.”

  “Or look at those shoes,” Bryan said.

  “Maybe you’d run as fast as Lionel if you had shoes like that,” Kiana said to Bryan.

  Bryan reacted as if he’d seen aliens land on Earth. “I run the fifteen hundred on the freakin’ track team, Kiana. Are they magic shoes or something?”

  “They must be covered in pixie dust,” Nick said. “That’s the only way you get that color.”

  “Lionel would beat you by a hundred yards easy,” Kiana shot back.

  “Maybe in an eating competition,” Nick said.

  “You’re so rude,” Kiana said.

  She looked over at Lionel. Her eyes blazed with fury. He stared back helplessly, and slowly her eyes grew soft and her anger melted away. In its place he saw something much worse: disappointment.

  “Sorry, Kiana,” Nick said. “But you gotta admit, those shoes are disturbing.”

  He and Bryan burst out laughing.

  Lionel stepped out from behind his desk. The door was fifteen feet away. Fifteen feet and he was gone, and this was over, at least for now; maybe if he got lucky it would be over for good. He could miss a week of classes, with the flu or headaches or anything, and they’d forget about him. And somehow he had to get new shoes.

  Rashmi pulled on Kiana’s arm. “Let’s go,” she said.

  Kiana’s face was pale. She seemed close to tears. The sight wrenched his heart.

  “I’m in,” Lionel said.

  Bryan’s eyes screwed up tightly and he took a step towards him. “You’re in for what?” he said.

  “For the race. Let’s do it,” Lionel said. His voice shook slightly.

  Bryan’s eyes bugged out and a half-smile spread across his face. “Bro, didn’t you hear I’m on the track team and you’re …”

  “Like a big fat sponge,” Nick finished for him.

  Words tumbled out before Lionel could stop himself. “You wanna see how these shoes work, then step up. I got you figured as the hot-air type, but who knows?”

  “You’ve lost it, Congo Man,” N
ick said.

  “If you knew anything about running you’d know these are practically the best shoes money can buy,” Lionel said. “By the way, Bryan, I heard no one else actually tried out for the fifteen hundred, so that’s how you made the team.”

  Kiana had told him that.

  Kiana giggled. The color had returned to her face, and he even saw a hint of a smile.

  “Done, bro,” Bryan said, snatching his books. “We’ll go twice around the track.”

  “And the loser’s gotta jog one more lap in his underwear,” Nick said.

  He held up his hand and Bryan gave him a tentative high-five.

  “You always have to do that,” Kiana said to Nick.

  “Do what?” he said.

  “Push it — and try to embarrass people,” she said.

  “What’s the big deal, Kiana? It’s just a race — with a kicker at the end,” Nick laughed.

  “Fine,” she snapped. “But if Bryan loses, you gotta do it too.”

  “And you?” Nick said.

  She held out her hand.

  Nick grinned and shook it. “This is a bad idea, girlfriend, not that I would mind seeing you in your undies.”

  “I’m not your girlfriend,” Kiana said.

  “Whoa, I’m just joking around,” Nick said.

  “I’m not,” Kiana said.

  “This is dumb,” Rashmi said to Kiana. “Don’t do this.”

  “I ain’t worried,” Kiana said, “and it’s a bet.”

  “Okay, Kiana, what color panties you wearing?” Nick said. He held up his cellphone “I wanna make sure I get a good pic.”

  He and Bryan broke up again.

  Kiana snorted in disgust.

  “Make it three laps,” Bryan said, “if you can handle it.”

  “Why not make it a real fifteen hundred?” Nick said.

  Bryan held out his hand. Lionel shook it. Bryan’s hand was cool and dry.

  Bryan let go and waved his hand in the air. “Gross, bro. Sweat much?”

  “Meet at the track after school,” Nick said.

  “No way he shows,” Bryan said.