Sunny(23)

I took my place on the track just outside of everyone else. I mean, I was close to Patty, Lu, and Ghost, but not in the mix like I normally would be. Just a little bit away from everyone. I don’t know why. Just felt different, I guess. Then Coach revved up and dropped his pep talk on us. He said that we were there to defend four things. 1. Our reputation. 2. Our work ethic. 3. Our ability. And more importantly, especially this week since I was doing something new, we’re defending 4. each other. Whit was standing next to him, nodding. Coach crossed his arms and Whit put hers behind her back. Then Coach said this is what it means to be a team. To be family. It means things change, but they keep moving. Coach probably didn’t even know he was describing my new favorite movie.

Then Coach sideswiped everyone and told Lu to lead the stretches.

Not Aaron. Not Aaron. Not A A R O N.

LUUUUUUUUUUUU!





Dear Diary,

Coach sees almost everything. And if he doesn’t, Whit sees it. But for some reason no one saw Aaron push Lu after the stretches. Not even Patty. But I did. And I started walking over to Aaron to let him know that even though I always try to play it cool, I have some noise for him. But before I could get to him, Coach called me over and told me he had some news, and having news is what people like Coach and Gramps say before they say someone or something has taken a turn.

And things definitely took a turn.

They rearranged the events because of this new field event. It’s only three of you, so they’ve decided to put you all first. That’s what Coach said.

I felt like I was going to pass out. All my tickboom had turned into a sputter, and the glue feeling in my stomach had turned into something else. Something heavier. Like a discus. But only until the balloons showed up.

It was Aurelia. And Gramps. They were climbing up into the stands with like a hundred balloons.

I just told Coach before he asked.

Today’s my birthday.

Coach said, today?

I said yeah.

He asked, why didn’t I tell the team?

I shrugged.

Coach told me to hurry up and speak to my family. We had work to do.

I ran off the track and gave Gramps and Aurelia hugs and they wished me happy birthday and asked if I was ready and all that, and I told them I was nervous and it felt like all those balloons were in my body. And that’s when Aurelia pulled out a green marker, grabbed me by the wrist, and drew a star on my forearm. Where my mother’s was.

For good luck.

When I got back to the benches, there were questions.

Yo, Sunny, why you ain’t tell us today was your birthday?—Lu How you surprise your team with your birthday?—Patty Anything else you want to tell us that we don’t know?—Ghost Um . . . I don’t go to school.—me You don’t go to school! Who are you?—Ghost again Be quiet, Ghost.—Patty I mean, I do wanna know about this school thing, but right now we talking about your birthday. So, how come you didn’t want us to know?—Patty again. We were passing the Tupperware of orange slices—the ones from Lu’s mom—around.

I told them that I just never really talk about it too much because I don’t do that much to celebrate or nothing because it’s also the day my mom died. And before they could make melty-sad faces, and do all the awful awww-ing, I told them it was fine. I was fine. And showed them the green star on my arm. None of them understood it—plus it was hideous—but . . . I knew.





Dear Diary, The announcer made the announcement—because that’s what announcers do—that the order of events had changed slightly, and that there would be an add-on at the beginning of the meet. The discus. He announced who would be participating.

And lastly, from the Defenders, formerly the master of the mile, Sunnnnnnny Lancaster!

It was time.

I walked out onto the track, and across it, onto the grass over to the throwing circle. Coach came behind me, a few discuses in his hand. Two other throwers and their coaches were there swinging their arms around, trying to loosen up. They definitely looked a lot more relaxed than me.

Then the referee told us the rules.

If you go over the line or on the line, that’s a foul.

If you step out of the circle, that’s a foul.

If your discus goes outside the sector lines, which means if it hits the track—foul.

We all nodded. And then the ref said that because my last name, Lancaster, was alphabetically before Watkins and Young, I was up first.

Lucky Lucky Lancaster. Ugh.

Coach waved me over to where he was, which was just a few feet behind me. He put the first discus in my hand. He told me—reminded me—that I had this. That it was just like dancing. Whoosh. He told me to just let it flow, and let it go.

I stepped into the circle.

The sound of everyone watching . . . was silence.

I let the discus rest in my palm, let just the tips of my fingers grip it, just like we practiced. I wound, wound, wound, then . . . spun, stepped, spun-step, THROW!

Foul! Stepped over the line, son.

I tried to shake it off, and just grabbed another discus. Got back in position. Coach told me it was okay, and to settle down. Settle in. Coach bent his knees to demonstrate what he wanted me to do. Just like we practiced. Invisible chair. Sit in the invisible chair.

Darryl popped up just like he did a week ago when I quit. But his face wasn’t stone. Or wax. And I wouldn’t have even known if he didn’t scream out, Let’s go!