With my head down, I didn’t see him come to my side until his hand dropped to my shoulder.
“Come on,” a familiar, yet foreign at the same time voice said beside me. “You don’t want to start high school like this. I’ll help you out.”
Shocked, I actually had to stare at him to make sure it was who I thought it was. Even with the sun glaring in my face, and the sweat dripping into my eyes, I knew it was him.
Leon.
In between gasps of air, I managed, “What the hell are you doing?” There was no hiding the shock and anger, for that matter, in my question. We hadn’t spoken in about a year and a half. After my mom had died, he moved on, his position as quarterback of the junior high football team securing his spot in the popular group. Things did not go that way for me. Secluded and alone, I didn’t make any friends. Then once the weight started piling on, Leon pretended as if he didn’t even know me. And honestly, I was just too sad mourning the loss of my mom that I didn’t have the energy to mourn the loss of my best friend.
“Helping you not make a fool of yourself,” he answered, moving into a slow jog while still managing to stay right next to me. “You don’t have far to go. I’ll run it with you.”
There was something in his voice reminding me of the friend he used to be. And at that moment, I was desperate not to be alone. Swallowing my pride, I nodded and began jogging. Catching up to him somewhat quickly, I even impressed myself. As I closed in on the finish line, I could see the wide-eyed, shocked looks on the faces of my classmates. Damn if I didn’t feel proud for pushing myself.
“Way to go.” Leon’s words came out effortlessly. No gasping for air on his part.
If I wasn’t desperately sucking in air, I would have had the ability to manage a smile. But instead, I simply let myself be motivated by the guy next to me who used to be my friend. Despite the pain in my chest at the near sprinting pace we were keeping, I let the tiniest bit of hope blossom at the idea that maybe we could be friends again.
Then the world came crashing down around me.
Literally.
Tumbling over the finish line, my elbows and knees were torn up by the track. Blood trickled down my skin, and I hoped everyone thought it was sweat streaming down my cheeks.
Over the loud pulse of blood rushing in my ears, I was able to make out the roar of laughter coming from the line of my classmates.
And right there, in the center of them all was Leon, pointing and laughing, covering his mouth with his hand, as if it would keep the insults in.
That’s when the oh-so-creative name of fatty-fat ass came into play. And at the center of it all was Leon—the bastard I trusted just seconds ago.
The blaring noise of our gym teacher’s whistle cut through my embarrassment, and their laughter.
“All right,” he said, near chuckling. “That’s enough. Show’s over. Time to get changed.”
Awesome. That’s my most favorite thing ever,I mocked internally.
Lifting myself from the track, I looked down at my shoes. Laces still intact, I replayed the crash in my head. That’s when I caught him talking with one of his football friends out of the corner of my eye. There was no mistaking the hatred in his eyes, the evil glint of satisfaction sparkling there as I wiped the blood from my arms.
He muttered, “Fat ass,” under his breath and that’s when I knew he’d pushed me.
When it was Leon who led the chant of “Mack attack” as we walked back into the locker room, low enough so that the teacher didn’t hear it all the way at the end of the group, of course, I wanted to die.
But instead, I kept walking, trying my best to let their insults roll off my back.
“Actually,” Micah said, cutting through my memories and bringing me back to the present. “You did it in eighteen.” Even though the sun still hadn’t lit the morning sky, I could see his smile brighten his face.
So that’s what it felt like to have someone be proud of you.
“No shit,” I gloated, trying my best to tamp down my own pride before I got ahead of myself.
“Yep.” Micah clapped a hand on my back and laughed, adding, “Now let’s see if you can beat that time on the way back.”
Fear and anxiety wrestled in my chest, but I wouldn’t let either of them win over my motivation. I was sick and tired of starting over. Determined to defeat my demons once and for all, I bit back my desire to sayfuck no, I can’t do another mile,and instead said, “I bet I can do it in sixteen.”
