suggestion. He didn’t, however, take any more. “Where
are the others?”
“Keeping their distance. They’re afraid the earth’s going to open up and swallow you.”
Neil laughed. “Not really. Kipp and Brenda were here a few minutes ago. I told them
you like to be by yourself before a race. They’re in the stands somewhere. I hope
you didn’t mind my speaking for you.” He added, “I told Alison the same thing.”
Although his friend was acting nonchalant, Tony could hear the tension in his last
line. He had told himself he wouldn’t do this to Neil, and he had gone right ahead
and done it just the same. He was an SOB, why didn’t he just accept the fact and have
the initials tattooed on his forehead so he wouldn’t be able to fool anyone else?
The problem was, Alison was the first girl he had found who made him feel important
without having to swell his already bloated ego. Quite simply, he was happy around
her. But these feelings, they seemed to totter on a balance: Add a gram of joy to
this side and you had to put a pound of misery on the other side. That is what he
had beentrying to tell Alison that night in the car. I feel guilty, baby. He would have, except it would have been like stealing a piece of Neil’s pride, and
he would never do that.
“I should have told you I went out with her,” Tony said. “I meant to.”
“That’s OK. You better keep stretching. The starter is . . . ”
“It’s not OK. I stabbed you in the back. But . . . I didn’t even intend to ask her
out. I just did it, you know?”
“Did you have fun?” Neil sounded genuinely curious.
He hesitated. “I did.”
“Are you going to go out with her again?”
Tony sat down on the ice chest and yawned. The sun must be getting to him; he felt
like he’d already run his races and was recovering. “Not if you tell me you don’t
want me to.”
“If you had fun, why not?”
“Neil . . . ”
“I would never tell you what to do.”
I wish you had , Tony thought, a year ago. Almost involuntarily, he found himself searching the stands for Alison. Dozens of
people waved to him but none of them looked like her. One of the reasons he was defying
the Caretaker, petty as it sounded, was so that he could show off in front of her.
“When are you going to get that leg fixed?” he asked, as if that were relevant to
the topic.
“Soon. Why?”
“So we can run together.”
“I could never keep up with you.”
“You wouldn’t have any trouble today, I don’t feel so hot.”
“But you said you felt great.” Neil reached for the empty carton. “The lemonade! Maybe
there was something in it.”
Tony laughed. “Would you stop that! I mean, I don’t feel so hot because of what I
did to you. I think it would help if you’d at least get mad at me.”
Neil was hardly listening. “Another time, maybe.” He pointed to the starting line,
where a half dozen young men in bright colored track suits were peeling off their
sweats. Crete High had a quarter miler who had not lost this year. Tony could see
him pacing in lane two, a squat, powerfully built guy. Tony knew he would snuff him.
“You better get moving,” Neil said.
Tony stood. “Will you cheer for me?”
Neil grinned. “Only if you win.”
While the other contestants fought with their starting blocks, Tony stood patiently
inside lane one behind the white powdered line, taking slow deep breaths, wanting
to be mildly hyperventilated before they took off. Blocks had never helped him in
a sprint as long as the quarter mile and he doubted they would be helping anyone else
in the race. Being in lane one, he had the disadvantage of the tight turns but he
always opted for the position for it gave him a clear view of the other runners. This
fellow from Crete High—Gabriel was his name, Tony remembered—would feel him on his
heels until the last turn. That is when he would blow past the guy. He
are the others?”
“Keeping their distance. They’re afraid the earth’s going to open up and swallow you.”
Neil laughed. “Not really. Kipp and Brenda were here a few minutes ago. I told them
you like to be by yourself before a race. They’re in the stands somewhere. I hope
you didn’t mind my speaking for you.” He added, “I told Alison the same thing.”
Although his friend was acting nonchalant, Tony could hear the tension in his last
line. He had told himself he wouldn’t do this to Neil, and he had gone right ahead
and done it just the same. He was an SOB, why didn’t he just accept the fact and have
the initials tattooed on his forehead so he wouldn’t be able to fool anyone else?
The problem was, Alison was the first girl he had found who made him feel important
without having to swell his already bloated ego. Quite simply, he was happy around
her. But these feelings, they seemed to totter on a balance: Add a gram of joy to
this side and you had to put a pound of misery on the other side. That is what he
had beentrying to tell Alison that night in the car. I feel guilty, baby. He would have, except it would have been like stealing a piece of Neil’s pride, and
he would never do that.
“I should have told you I went out with her,” Tony said. “I meant to.”
“That’s OK. You better keep stretching. The starter is . . . ”
“It’s not OK. I stabbed you in the back. But . . . I didn’t even intend to ask her
out. I just did it, you know?”
“Did you have fun?” Neil sounded genuinely curious.
He hesitated. “I did.”
“Are you going to go out with her again?”
Tony sat down on the ice chest and yawned. The sun must be getting to him; he felt
like he’d already run his races and was recovering. “Not if you tell me you don’t
want me to.”
“If you had fun, why not?”
“Neil . . . ”
“I would never tell you what to do.”
I wish you had , Tony thought, a year ago. Almost involuntarily, he found himself searching the stands for Alison. Dozens of
people waved to him but none of them looked like her. One of the reasons he was defying
the Caretaker, petty as it sounded, was so that he could show off in front of her.
“When are you going to get that leg fixed?” he asked, as if that were relevant to
the topic.
“Soon. Why?”
“So we can run together.”
“I could never keep up with you.”
“You wouldn’t have any trouble today, I don’t feel so hot.”
“But you said you felt great.” Neil reached for the empty carton. “The lemonade! Maybe
there was something in it.”
Tony laughed. “Would you stop that! I mean, I don’t feel so hot because of what I
did to you. I think it would help if you’d at least get mad at me.”
Neil was hardly listening. “Another time, maybe.” He pointed to the starting line,
where a half dozen young men in bright colored track suits were peeling off their
sweats. Crete High had a quarter miler who had not lost this year. Tony could see
him pacing in lane two, a squat, powerfully built guy. Tony knew he would snuff him.
“You better get moving,” Neil said.
Tony stood. “Will you cheer for me?”
Neil grinned. “Only if you win.”
While the other contestants fought with their starting blocks, Tony stood patiently
inside lane one behind the white powdered line, taking slow deep breaths, wanting
to be mildly hyperventilated before they took off. Blocks had never helped him in
a sprint as long as the quarter mile and he doubted they would be helping anyone else
in the race. Being in lane one, he had the disadvantage of the tight turns but he
always opted for the position for it gave him a clear view of the other runners. This
fellow from Crete High—Gabriel was his name, Tony remembered—would feel him on his
heels until the last turn. That is when he would blow past the guy. He
Similar Books
