Forever for a Year(24)

“You’re amazing!” Peggy said, and leaped up to hug me, only she fell down from her tight dress and everyone laughed at her, except me. I just helped her back to the bed. “I’m such a klutz in this!” she said, and she sounded like an airhead even though she’s smart and a good athlete.

Then Shannon sat next to us and said, “You guys are cool,” and I don’t know if she meant it like we were always cool and she could see it now that she was getting to know us, or as if she was deeming us cool now that we were her friends. But the weirdest thing was that I actually, oh my gosh, liked her. Like, I thought she was being really nice to me. And she found me a dress that I liked and she taught me how to walk in high heels, and, I don’t know, she was amazing.

So eventually Shannon and Wanda found dresses they wanted to wear from the hundred they brought over, and then we all put on some makeup—yes, I did, okay, I don’t really like makeup, but I just wanted to try new things, so I put on just a little, okay?—and then when we were all ready, I felt like we were going to walk down the red carpet at the Academy Awards, except we just walked down the stairs to Peggy’s living room, which had one new brown couch, one old red couch, a glass coffee table with fake-gold legs, and a television that was probably worth more than their house.

I sat on the couch next to Shannon and Wanda, Emma leaned against the wall, and Peggy sat on the floor after she put on a fashion reality TV show. And then we waited. I felt so silly, but worse, I thought the popular girls would get bored and leave even though this is where the party was, and then, just when my leg started bouncing because I was nervous, Katherine came back home. With her were three junior girls, including Shannon’s sister Elizabeth, and two senior boys, and the boys carried two big beer kegs, and all four of the girls carried plastic bags filled with bottles of vodka and tequila and maybe rum. I don’t know how to recognize alcohol bottles very well.

“Don’t the young’uns look smokin’,” Katherine said as she walked past us, though it didn’t feel like a compliment. She led all the older kids into the kitchen, and Shannon, Peggy, Wanda, and Emma followed them so I did too. I mean, I wasn’t going to sit in the living room by myself, right?





16

Trevor meets Mr. Pain

During the team stretch before Friday’s run, Coach Pasquini squatted next to me and talked. Quietly. Almost stealthily. But everyone could see him and hear him. So it was odd because the dude was odd. But, Jesus, I was starting to like him. I don’t even know why. Maybe I’m odd. Whatever.

“So, Trevor Santos. My Mr. Pain. You ready?”

I nodded. Two seniors who ran cross-country just to look good on their college applications laughed at Pasquini. I tried not to look at them.

Coach said, “Every day you go out running with the lead pack. Todd placed sixth in the state meet last year. Where did you finish last year at state?”

“I was in California, and I wasn’t running cross-country,” I said, feeling like a complete fool.

“There, I can see it, you feel stupid. That’s you punishing yourself again. Stop it! I’m glad you weren’t running last year. Because if you were, some other coach would get to feel like a genius for turning your physical gifts and stubborn-ass determination into something special. Now I’ll get to take all the credit while you do all the work.” He did his grin thing, then said, “My first new rule for you. Start being nice to yourself. Got it?”

I nodded again, though I didn’t really get it. How was I supposed to be nice to myself? It didn’t make any goddamn sense.

He continued, “Todd’s All-State. Randy and Craig were All-Conference. Everyone else in the lead pack has run for years. When you try to stay with them from the start, you hurt your body and you hurt your spirit. Setting yourself up to fail. Because you are Mr. Pain. And I know you think if Conchita, a freshman and a girl, can stay with them, you should too, but that young lady has been winning races in her age group since she was nine. She knows more about running than the rest of us jokers combined. Yeah, that includes me. I’d let her coach if I didn’t need to pay for my kid to go to college. So rule two. Find runners at your level. Where it doesn’t hurt fifty meters in. Perhaps, just perhaps, where you even enjoy running for a short while. Got it?”

I nodded.

“You fast?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“I know so. Even though I’ve never seen it because by the time you get done with the run, you’re so blasted, you can barely walk, let alone kick the finish. You’ve got long legs and a good stride and a lot of anger. All that will make you the best miler I’ve ever coached, but that’s track. This is a different beast. Oh yeah. Cross-country is five thousand meters. It requires strategy. Who beats you every practice?”

“Todd and Randy—”

“No. Have you been listening? They don’t beat you because they are playing tennis while you’re playing Ping-Pong. Maybe someday you’ll be playing the same game. But you have to work your way there. Who beats you who’s running the same race?”

“Aaron and Tor,” I said, motioning toward the two sophomores that passed me at the end of Monday’s run and passed me sooner every practice since.

“Closer. But still out of your league.”

“Edward and Michael,” I said, pointing to the seniors that laughed at Pasquini. When they ran by me at the end of every run, Michael would say, “Crawling works too.”