"Yes, please," I breathe. "I'm trying to get to campus."
"You ran here all the way from campus?" he asks.
I nod.
"Now why'd you do something like that?"
I'd really love to stop this game of 20 questions and push his foot to the accelerator, but I have to play nice. "I was out running, and I got lost, and I think I just got more and more lost," I reply. It's not entirely untrue.
"Well, damn, girl, you belong on a track team. We got to be seven miles from campus at least."
Oh shit.
We start driving. He's blathering on about something, but all I can think is that I'm completely fucked. I probably ran nine miles this morning all together. There's not a chance I'll perform. There's not a chance I won't be the slowest girl on the field. How the hell am I going to explain it?
///
"You got a boyfriend?" he asks.
I glance at him warily. He looks older than me, but not old, and I dislike the eager glint in his eye as he waits for my answer. "Yeah."
He laughs. "Can't be much of one if you're jumping out of his bed to go running this early in the morning." He tells me he has a son who's eight, but he only sees him about once a month. He tells me he has a boat. "You like being out on the water?" he asks.
I nod, though I've never been.
"I'll take you out on my boat sometime, then. Write down your cell," he says, pushing a receipt toward me. I make up a number and hand it back, directing him to a sorority house on the other side of campus. No fucking way is this guy finding out where I live.
I get home with just enough time to change before I have to run back across campus to the track, and I'm still late. Betsy's smirk is so wide I'm surprised it doesn't crack her face.
Will never even glances at me as I climb on the bus, which feels intentional somehow. The girls talk, anxiety making them extra annoying. Some of them have parents coming to the event, which I suppose is an extra layer of excitement if you actually have parents you'd want attending.
I chug my water bottle, but there's no way I can drink enough to make up for the fact that I ran as much as I did this morning. Today it's that loose-limbed weakness that comes after a long, hard run. It's the kind of weakness that no effort on my part can overcome. I can't think of a time in my life when I ran that far and stayed asleep. I'm going to fuck this meet up as badly as I've ever fucked up anything.
"Are your parents coming, Finn?" asks Nicole.
I shake my head. "They're traveling."
"Where'd they go?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." And this is entirely true. As far as I know, they've been traveling for the 14 years since they dumped me with my grandmother and took off.
Will listens to our exchange, still stony-faced.
"What crawled up his ass?" whispers Erin as we climb off the bus.
I shrug. I don't know, but it will be a hell of a lot worse after we don't place today. I get in line for the port-a-potties, and the moment I've gone, I feel like I have to go again. My limbs are weak. I often feel a little weak and shaky at the start from nerves. Today, I'm pretty sure it's not nerves.
Will tells us to try to stay ahead of Denton, our biggest rival, to block them out in the last mile. But he doesn't direct a single word of this to me as if I'm not going to be in the race at all. It's a fair assumption.
We line up and the weakness overwhelms me. I have to pull it together. I have to at least stay with the team. I need to pee again, but it's too late. The gun goes off and from my very first steps I know how this will go. Some days you feel weak and it turns out that it was transient, nerves or just some shallow weakness with a deep reserve beneath it.
This is not one of those days.
For the first mile, I run with Erin, noting her curious glances. I've never stayed back with her before, and she probably thinks this is strategy on my part.
It's not.
I'm running with her because it's all I'm capable of.
At the second mile, it gets tough. I'm breathing heavy, and sweat rests thick on my back, bristling against my skin like something alive. My stomach is churning and I think that water I drank coming here might be about to make a return trip.
On the third mile, I'm still with Erin, but barely. She's all that is keeping me going. My vision has begun to dim on the sides as if I've got a flashlight pointed on her in a dark room.
The circle of the flashlight narrows …
Narrows …
Narrows …
When I come to, I'm in the back of an ambulance. We're not moving, so I assume we're still on the field.
Will is there, hovering behind paramedics. He looks vaguely concerned but mostly he looks pissed off as if I fainted on purpose. Even now, looking angry, something about his face draws me in, makes me long to run my index finger over the rise of his lip, his cheekbone …
Stop, I command myself. It's inappropriate in so many ways. Mainly because Will is an asshole.
They've already started the IV. "I don't need this," I mutter.
"I must have missed the part where you got a medical degree," snaps Will, his tone drawing surprised stares from the paramedics and from me.
Will is an asshole, but I expected a little sympathy in the back of a freaking ambulance. I scowl openly at him. "I'm not dehydrated, and even if I am, I'm fine now. I can drink it myself. I don't want to hold everyone up."
"Oh, so now you're worried about the rest of the team?" he scoffs. "I think your worry is coming a little late, don't you?"
///
"Dude ..." says the aghast paramedic to my right. "Seriously? She just passed out."
"I'm sorry if we didn't place," I tell Will between clenched teeth, hating him in an altogether new way at this very moment. "I don't know what happened. I think I'm just coming down with something."
"That's interesting," he says, looking me dead in the eye. "Because you looked pretty healthy running across campus this morning."
The ride back to school is the longest of my life. No one seems to blame me for the loss-Will hasn't told them precisely how much of it is my fault-but no one's happy either. And Will ...
He doesn't say a word to anyone.
"My office," he hisses as we exit the bus. "Now."
15
Olivia
I wait in the hallway as he walks past. His face is so cold, so still, it could be chiseled in stone. I follow him into his office and he slams the door behind me. "Explain," he demands.
I'm not telling him what happened. I doubt he'd believe me anyway. "About this morning? You've heard of the walk of shame, right?" I smirk.
He narrows his eyes. "Dressed in running clothes?" he demands. "No shoes? Drenched in sweat?"
"You're probably not aware of this, but when sex lasts more than 30 seconds, the girl can get sweaty too."
"Cut the shit, Olivia. I want the truth, and you'd better not lie when I ask it. Did you go running this morning before the meet?"
I have nothing to lose at this point. He's probably going to kick me off the team no matter what. "Yes."
"How far did you go?"
"About nine miles."
"You must be out of your mind," he growls. "On the morning of a race you ran nine miles? Why?"
I say nothing. I mean, he's right, isn't he? I'm definitely out of my mind. I don't think that idea is even in dispute at this point.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question," he snaps. "I expect an answer. I specifically told you to stop running before practice but you did it anyway. Unless you can offer a compelling reason for it, you're off the team. You're nothing but a liability."
"You don't know that," I retort. "It was only the first meet."
"I know how fast you are, Olivia. We should have placed today. So yeah, I do know you're a liability. You're incapable of taking direction and we all paid the price for it today."
"I can't control it!"
"Is someone forcing you at gunpoint? I must have missed that this morning."
"I do it in my sleep, okay?" I snarl. "Like sleepwalking, except I run."
I'm not sure what's more horrifying, that he wants to kick me out of the program already or that I just told him the truth. I don't know why I told him. I've only admitted it once in my adult life, and it really didn't work out for me.
He rolls his eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I've heard a lot of stupid things."
"Fine." I should have expected his reaction, but it still hurts. "Don't believe me. Kick me off the team." I jump to my feet. "You know what? Don't bother. I fucking quit."