“Doubt it,” Curtis says. “They’ve already brought us in here, so it’s too late to cancel.”
“Damn.”
Curtis doesn’t share my sentiment. He’s smiling at the floor, fiddling with his shoelaces.
“What are you so happy about?” I demand.
“Huh?” His head shoots up as if caught. “Nothing.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Okay.”
But a second later, he’s grinning at Kennedy and Liam, who have just arrived, and gestures for them to sit with him. Soon they’re deep in conversation. Curtis and Liam keep smiling at each other, which is weird, because Curtis used to complain about Liam all the time. I guess they’re all friends now.
I look away and try not to feel left out. I have loads of friends, but I end up by myself with no one to talk to disturbingly often.
Once all the students have settled down, the P.E. teachers explain how cross country will work. Year 7 and 8 girls race first, then Year 7 and 8 boys, on and on until the last event, which is the Year 11 and 12 boys. I have a long wait, so I walk over to Aiden, Hudson and Fin.
“I didn’t think Year 12 would be this bad,” Aiden complains. “I’m actually stressed about my grades.”
“I’m not,” Fin says.
“You don’t have to be,” Aiden says. “You can just work for your family’s business afterwards.”
“I still need to go to uni,” Fin says, “but my grades are pretty awesome. I got an A on that English essay.”
My jaw drops, and Aiden and Hudson also look shocked. Fin’s not the dumbest guy in the world, but he’s never seemed clever either. And he got an A?Igot an A. There’s no way Fin’s as smart as me.
Before I can interrogate him, Hudson goes on a long tangent about how his English teacher is psycho. Well, Fin probably just got a good private tutor to help him this year.
Finally, it’s time for us to run, and we all walk outside to the starting line. A teacher counts us down, and then we’re off. We’re packed like sardines first, but soon the crowd spreads out. Some guys are already walking. Some are too confident and sprint like we’re running a hundred metres, not three point two kilometres.
As my feet pound against the ground, I decide I’ll aim to be in the top ten. My parents would be proud of the top ten, right?
My feet pound against the dirt path that loops around the perimeter of the school. Tall, thick eucalyptus trees line the path, and deep puddles cover the ground. In front of me, a Year 11 boy slips in mud and falls over.
That’s shit luck, but I don’t stop as I overtake him.
By the halfway point, nearby the oval, the group is more spread out than ever. There are a fair few guys in front of me who’d be impossible to catch up with, but I’m still doing pretty alright.
I hear heavy breaths behind me, but don’t glance back until the guy is passing me. He’s wearing a red shirt and as he overtakes me, he stomps into a shallow puddle, splattering my calves with mud and coffee-brown water.
It’s Kieran fucking Phillips.
“Hey,” I say, pumping my legs to catch up with him. “Watch where you’re going next time.”
He spares me a glance before focusing on the path before him.
Asshole. He won’t even apologise.
I grit my teeth, and speed up, even though I know it will use up too much energy. There’s no way I’m letting him beat me. Especially when he said all that crap about me being a virgin the last time we talked. He looked so goddamn proud of himself, and I wanted to sock him. The worst thing was that there was no way I would convince him he was wrong.
He also said that I liked Trinity. I don’t, I just think she’s hot. She spent a lot of time talking to Kieran during the bake stall. Does she like him? Does she think he’s hot, like Imogen does?
Those thoughts propel me forward, and I glance over my shoulder, expecting Kieran to be far behind me. Instead, he’s only a metre behind, and when he sees me looking, he grimaces, and then he’s beside me again.
And then he’s overtaking me.
I speed up and it’s a game of who can overtake the other. I can never lose him, but he never loses me either. He runs through a puddle and I hiss when cold mud hits my legs again.
