break-neck pace. The trail swooped left and right, back and forth for much longer than Mira thought it would. Settling into a more sustainable pace, she pushed along the seemingly endless path. From her place on the trail, she couldn’t see anyone in front or behind her. The only paint here came from odd footprints.
Seeing only a few spots and drips on her, Mira hypothesized that she must be close to the best in that respect. She’d kept a strong pace, and so she had to be gaining on the leaders too, who possessed no special endurance to her knowledge.
Swinging around another bend, the trail suddenly split into three. Arrows pointed down each of the three trails. Jogging in place, she strained to figure out which was the correct trail. She quickly noticed that the trail on the left had no paint, the trail in the middle had some, and the trail to the right had paint on every surface, dripping from above, and covering the brambles and ground. Only a few stepping-stones appeared safe.
Pressure swelled inside of her and her heart raced. “Which way?” she said aloud. Tracks led off in each direction, meaning that if she chose the right way she would be sure to advance a few places. She tried to think about what Fortst did.
“He wouldn’t have wasted much time putting paint on a trail that wasn’t the right one, would he?”
Satisfied with her logic, and hearing footsteps behind her, she went for the painted trail on the right. She hopped from stone to stone, unavoidably getting paint on her shoes. She almost lost her balance once, and so she had to reach out and put her hand on a bright red tree trunk. It felt disgusting, both because it made her fingers stick together and because it hurt her standing.
She heard students at the intersection behind her. They too puzzled over which direction to take. She turned back and called to them.
“It’s this way!” she hollered, thinking it better to have them behind her than possibly pick the right trail if she were wrong. They responded and took to the painted trail, which proved more difficult for them to navigate because only one student could fit on a stepping-stone at a time. Almost nearing the end, Mira heard an argument break out amongst them. If it led to a scuffle, they would surely be out of the game.
Hopping over the last stretch of paint, she resumed her frantic pace. The trail turned to the left and immediately rejoined with the other splits in the path.
“You can’t be serious!” she groaned. She took a quick but longing look at the paint-free left trail that she could have quickly and easily taken. Pushing down the path for another ten minutes, she felt like she did when she had run around the trails in the woods behind her home. Remembering the undulations, she picked up speed and felt like she could hold it forever.
She wished her parents could come down to see her or she could run home for a snack. The trail straightened out and she saw Vern and Aoi in front of her. “Please start fighting,” she pleaded in her mind. Farther down the trail she could see Fortst and the finish.
Mira sprinted after them as fast as her legs could carry her, but they were just too far ahead and there was not enough room to catch up. As she closed on the finish, she saw that Roselyn had finished first, and she watched Vern and Aoi pass Rowland in the final stretch.
Crossing the line, she took a few hobbled steps and gasped for breath. Fortst seemed impressed with her finish though, and he gave her an encouraging cheer. Mira started scanning those who finished before her for paint to see if she might actually be ahead of them. Rowland had a fair amount on him, but the others seemed almost clean.
“Mr. Fortst, did you say you would measure how much paint people had at the end of the race or the end of the day?” she asked.
“We’ll do all that when we get back to the schoolhouse after lunch,” he said.
A few more students made their way down the final stretch, and
Seeing only a few spots and drips on her, Mira hypothesized that she must be close to the best in that respect. She’d kept a strong pace, and so she had to be gaining on the leaders too, who possessed no special endurance to her knowledge.
Swinging around another bend, the trail suddenly split into three. Arrows pointed down each of the three trails. Jogging in place, she strained to figure out which was the correct trail. She quickly noticed that the trail on the left had no paint, the trail in the middle had some, and the trail to the right had paint on every surface, dripping from above, and covering the brambles and ground. Only a few stepping-stones appeared safe.
Pressure swelled inside of her and her heart raced. “Which way?” she said aloud. Tracks led off in each direction, meaning that if she chose the right way she would be sure to advance a few places. She tried to think about what Fortst did.
“He wouldn’t have wasted much time putting paint on a trail that wasn’t the right one, would he?”
Satisfied with her logic, and hearing footsteps behind her, she went for the painted trail on the right. She hopped from stone to stone, unavoidably getting paint on her shoes. She almost lost her balance once, and so she had to reach out and put her hand on a bright red tree trunk. It felt disgusting, both because it made her fingers stick together and because it hurt her standing.
She heard students at the intersection behind her. They too puzzled over which direction to take. She turned back and called to them.
“It’s this way!” she hollered, thinking it better to have them behind her than possibly pick the right trail if she were wrong. They responded and took to the painted trail, which proved more difficult for them to navigate because only one student could fit on a stepping-stone at a time. Almost nearing the end, Mira heard an argument break out amongst them. If it led to a scuffle, they would surely be out of the game.
Hopping over the last stretch of paint, she resumed her frantic pace. The trail turned to the left and immediately rejoined with the other splits in the path.
“You can’t be serious!” she groaned. She took a quick but longing look at the paint-free left trail that she could have quickly and easily taken. Pushing down the path for another ten minutes, she felt like she did when she had run around the trails in the woods behind her home. Remembering the undulations, she picked up speed and felt like she could hold it forever.
She wished her parents could come down to see her or she could run home for a snack. The trail straightened out and she saw Vern and Aoi in front of her. “Please start fighting,” she pleaded in her mind. Farther down the trail she could see Fortst and the finish.
Mira sprinted after them as fast as her legs could carry her, but they were just too far ahead and there was not enough room to catch up. As she closed on the finish, she saw that Roselyn had finished first, and she watched Vern and Aoi pass Rowland in the final stretch.
Crossing the line, she took a few hobbled steps and gasped for breath. Fortst seemed impressed with her finish though, and he gave her an encouraging cheer. Mira started scanning those who finished before her for paint to see if she might actually be ahead of them. Rowland had a fair amount on him, but the others seemed almost clean.
“Mr. Fortst, did you say you would measure how much paint people had at the end of the race or the end of the day?” she asked.
“We’ll do all that when we get back to the schoolhouse after lunch,” he said.
A few more students made their way down the final stretch, and
Similar Books
