so.”
“What babies.”
“Forget it,” Anthony said again, but Manny could tell that he was hurt.
“Let’s get out of here,” Manny said, and they headed for the exit.
2
On Trach
M anny jogged all the way home. He could run all day. He’d been a scrub on the football team, but he knew he’d do well in track.
Five-year-old Sal was sitting at the kitchen table when Manny arrived home, drawing a picture of a truck. He was a smaller version of Manny, with dark, curly hair and deep brown eyes.
“Donald called you,” Sal said. “Right after you left.”
“Probably wanted to go drop off his football stuff with me.”
“He said to call him.”
“I will.”
Donald had been Manny’s closest friend for several years. Both had tried out for football for the first time this fall, and both had spent most of the time watching from the bench.
“Guess what, Sal?” Manny said. “There’s gonna be a track team for kids. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah!”
Sal adored his older brother. “You’re the fastest guy around, Manny,” he said. “Can I be on the team, too?”
“Hmmm.” Manny kneeled and looked his brother straight in the eyes. “You could run under the hurdles, maybe.” He tickled Sal.
Sal laughed and broke away. “Really. I want to run.”
“Tell you what. You can run with me sometimes. And in a few years, I’m sure you can get on the team.”
“I’m really fast, Manny.”
“I know it, buddy.”
Manny dialed Donald’s number and let it ring six times. Finally Donald answered.
“You turn in your stuff?” Manny asked.
“Yeah. Where were you?”
“I went earlier. I tried to call you.”
“I slept late.”
“You hear about the track team?” Manny asked.
“Yeah,” Donald said flatly.
“You up for it?”
Donald’snorted. “You kidding? Running is punishment, man.”
“No,” Manny said, drawing out the word. “It’s beautiful.”
“For you maybe,” Donald said, laughing. “You’ve got bird bones or something. Or invisible wings. For the rest of us, it’s torture.”
“So you could do the long jump,” Manny said. “Or the high jump.”
“I’ll think about it,” Donald said. “But I doubt it. Anyway, you want to come over and watch TV or something?”
“Can’t,” Manny said. “I’m meeting Anthony at the track to work out.”
“You guys are crazy. Work out for what?”
“Track. Practice starts in two weeks. We want to be ready.”
“Whew. Gonna be cold all winter,” Donald said. “I think I’ll be hibernating.”
“You’ll miss out.”
“I’ll survive.”
Anthony was standing on the track stretching when Manny arrived. Even though he’d lost weight, Anthony still had a heavy body. He was wearing a gray sweatsuit and a blue knit cap with an orange Mets logo on it.
“You warmed up?” Manny asked.
“Pretty much. You?”
“Yeah. I ran all the way over. What should we do?”
Anthony shrugged. “Sprint, I guess. I never ran track before. You’re the expert, aren’t you?”
“No way,” Manny said. “But I think we should start out slow and build speed after a couple of laps. Let’s try that.”
“How far?” Anthony asked.
“The straightaway is 100 meters,” Manny said. “Why don’t we run the straights and walk the turns? I tried that a few times during the football season when I was mad about not playing.”
“When I get mad, I eat,” Anthony said. “We’ll try it your way.”
They walked along the first turn. Manny broke into a steady run as they reached the backstretch, and Anthony stayed with him. But it was obvious that Anthony was going nearly full speed just to stay with Manny. He was already puffing as they reached the beginning of the second turn.
“You all right?” Manny asked.
“Yep ... no problem.”
Manny smiled. The hard rubber track felt great under his feet. This was what he was meant to do. “Gorgeous day,” he said.
Anthony just nodded.
They reached the front stretch and
“What babies.”
“Forget it,” Anthony said again, but Manny could tell that he was hurt.
“Let’s get out of here,” Manny said, and they headed for the exit.
2
On Trach
M anny jogged all the way home. He could run all day. He’d been a scrub on the football team, but he knew he’d do well in track.
Five-year-old Sal was sitting at the kitchen table when Manny arrived home, drawing a picture of a truck. He was a smaller version of Manny, with dark, curly hair and deep brown eyes.
“Donald called you,” Sal said. “Right after you left.”
“Probably wanted to go drop off his football stuff with me.”
“He said to call him.”
“I will.”
Donald had been Manny’s closest friend for several years. Both had tried out for football for the first time this fall, and both had spent most of the time watching from the bench.
“Guess what, Sal?” Manny said. “There’s gonna be a track team for kids. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah!”
Sal adored his older brother. “You’re the fastest guy around, Manny,” he said. “Can I be on the team, too?”
“Hmmm.” Manny kneeled and looked his brother straight in the eyes. “You could run under the hurdles, maybe.” He tickled Sal.
Sal laughed and broke away. “Really. I want to run.”
“Tell you what. You can run with me sometimes. And in a few years, I’m sure you can get on the team.”
“I’m really fast, Manny.”
“I know it, buddy.”
Manny dialed Donald’s number and let it ring six times. Finally Donald answered.
“You turn in your stuff?” Manny asked.
“Yeah. Where were you?”
“I went earlier. I tried to call you.”
“I slept late.”
“You hear about the track team?” Manny asked.
“Yeah,” Donald said flatly.
“You up for it?”
Donald’snorted. “You kidding? Running is punishment, man.”
“No,” Manny said, drawing out the word. “It’s beautiful.”
“For you maybe,” Donald said, laughing. “You’ve got bird bones or something. Or invisible wings. For the rest of us, it’s torture.”
“So you could do the long jump,” Manny said. “Or the high jump.”
“I’ll think about it,” Donald said. “But I doubt it. Anyway, you want to come over and watch TV or something?”
“Can’t,” Manny said. “I’m meeting Anthony at the track to work out.”
“You guys are crazy. Work out for what?”
“Track. Practice starts in two weeks. We want to be ready.”
“Whew. Gonna be cold all winter,” Donald said. “I think I’ll be hibernating.”
“You’ll miss out.”
“I’ll survive.”
Anthony was standing on the track stretching when Manny arrived. Even though he’d lost weight, Anthony still had a heavy body. He was wearing a gray sweatsuit and a blue knit cap with an orange Mets logo on it.
“You warmed up?” Manny asked.
“Pretty much. You?”
“Yeah. I ran all the way over. What should we do?”
Anthony shrugged. “Sprint, I guess. I never ran track before. You’re the expert, aren’t you?”
“No way,” Manny said. “But I think we should start out slow and build speed after a couple of laps. Let’s try that.”
“How far?” Anthony asked.
“The straightaway is 100 meters,” Manny said. “Why don’t we run the straights and walk the turns? I tried that a few times during the football season when I was mad about not playing.”
“When I get mad, I eat,” Anthony said. “We’ll try it your way.”
They walked along the first turn. Manny broke into a steady run as they reached the backstretch, and Anthony stayed with him. But it was obvious that Anthony was going nearly full speed just to stay with Manny. He was already puffing as they reached the beginning of the second turn.
“You all right?” Manny asked.
“Yep ... no problem.”
Manny smiled. The hard rubber track felt great under his feet. This was what he was meant to do. “Gorgeous day,” he said.
Anthony just nodded.
They reached the front stretch and
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