Fast Company by Rich Wallace Page B

Manny ran a little faster. Anthony was running all-out now, but he kept up with Manny’s pace. Manny felt as light as a feather.
    “You’re a speedy little rat,” Anthony said as they slowed to a walk. He wiped his brow with a sleeve. “We doing another lap?”
    “Definitely.” Manny knew he could do at least ten more laps like that. “You can take a break after that. I’ll probably keep going.”
    Anthony fell behind on the next sprint but caught up to Manny on the turn. “One more,” Anthony said, breathing hard. “Let’s make it a race.”
    “You’re on.” Manny had barely worked up a sweat.
    They jogged the last ten yards to the straightaway, then broke into a sprint. Anthony was able to stay close to Manny for a few seconds but then fell behind. Manny raised his arms at the finish line, making two fists and shouting, “Victory!”
    “Right behind you!” said Anthony. He bent over with his hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. “Whew,” he said. “That cold air burns the throat.”
    “Felt good, though,” Manny said.
    Anthony nodded. “Good start. But that’s enough for me.”
    “I’ll keep going,” Manny said. “I feel strong. I’ll do two miles like that.”
    “I’ll wait.”
    Manny was fully warmed up now and decided to jog the turns instead of walking them. Anthony began walking’ around the track, and Manny caught up to him after running another lap.
    “You need a drink?” Anthony asked.
    “I will. When I finish.”
    “What do you want? I’ll get us something.”
    “A Gatorade would be good. You need money?”
    “Nah, I got it. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
    Manny finished the workout and bounded up the metal bleachers, stopping at the top to look down the hill. There was the Hudson River, with the New York City skyline on the other side looking close enough to touch on this clear November day. Somewhere over there was the Armory Track and Field Center. He’d never heard of it before today, but now it was foremost in his mind.
    What would it be like, racing against kids from all over the metropolitan area? He didn’t think there was anybody his age in Hudson City who could stay with him for a mile, but what about in Brooklyn or Queens or Hoboken? How good a runner was he?
    Anthony had returned with the drinks, and Manny walked down to the track. “Great workout,” he said. “You’ve got some speed, Anthony. This is going to be a great winter.”
    “I don’t know,” Anthony said. “You make it look so easy. What’d I run? 400 meters altogether. That ain’t so good.”
    “We’ll keep at it,” Manny said. “I’m a distance runner. You can’t expect to run as far as I do. Little by little, you’ll get better.”
    Anthony nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be out here again tomorrow. I’ll be ready when the season starts.”
    “Me, too,” Manny said. “I can’t wait. This team is going to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

3
    Raisins
    D onald came over that night and played poker with Manny and Sal and their parents at the kitchen table. The boys often played for nickels and dimes, but Manny’s parents said they’d only play for raisins.
    “What am I going to do with all those raisins I win?” Donald asked.
    “Eat ’em,” Manny said.
    “Five-raisin limit,” said Dad.
    Donald rolled his eyes. “They aren’t even my raisins,” he said, taking a handful from the box.
    “It’s just for fun,” Dad said, winking at Donald. “For the pure joy of the game.”
    Mom shuffled the cards and dealt the first hand. “Deuces wild,” she said.
    “Manny’s gonna be in the Olympics,” Sal said.
    “That right?” said Dad.
    Manny nodded. “One of the coaches is starting a track program. I already started working out.”
    “That’s great,” said Mom. “You too, Donald?”
    Donald winced. “I don’t know. Running isn’t my idea of fun.” He looked at his cards and changed their order. He pressed two fingers against his