For a couple of seconds, the silence hangs between us, as oppressive as a thunderstorm. Emma avoids my gaze. I realize we’re standing still only when she claps her hands.
“Whatever. Forget it. Next interval, come on.” She’s running again, and all I can do is follow her, my mind whirling.
Why didn’t I say anything? Something like,I’m sorry you had to go through that. If you want to talk about it, I’ll be here.Instead, I’m silent, watching as she argues it out with herself. As she runs. And suddenly I understand. When she takes her body to the limit, herthoughts stop. When she’s so focused on breathing and keeping on running, there’s no room left for emotions.
I pick up my pace as Emma announces the next sprint.
You have to think about the pain.
The fact that it isn’t Grace’s face in my mind’s eye should probably make me think. Instead, I remember the heavy feeling when Mum and Dad gave me one last hug at the airport. All those stupid goodbyes that have got so normal they shouldn’t hurt anymore. But it’ll never stop being unbearable when they leave me on my own somewhere and I have to be so fucking independent. I think about Maeve, getting on the train after a visit here and heading back to St. Andrews. About me, standing at the station and having to hold myself back so I don’t run after her. Now I don’t hold back.
My shins and thighs are burning, my lungs on fire. My pulse is racing, and once the last interval is finally over, I’m pretty sure I’m about to throw up.
I stop, and as my stomach lurches, I crumple. The blood is rushing in my ears, and my eyes are flickering. I can’t breathe fast enough to take in the oxygen my lungs are painfully demanding.
“No, stand up, Henry!” I feel Emma’s hand on my shoulder as I fall to my knees. The grass is cold and wet under my palms. I choke down the gagging. “Arms above your head, come on. You’ll soon feel better.”
I hear her as if through a thick layer of cotton wool, but somehow, my body does what she says. “Breathe into your belly. You have to keep moving, or your blood pressure will drop off. And tell me if you need to be sick.”
“You’re crazy,” I somehow croak out. The roaring in my ears is gradually fading. Her hand is between my shoulder blades. Even though my T-shirt is dripping with sweat. God knows what made me think of that right now.
“Better?” she asks as I rub my face and put my head back.
“I need to sit down,” I mumble.
“In a moment,” she promises. “Looks like we really did work you to the max this time,” she remarks.
I glare darkly at her. “I almost died.”
She smiles. “Yeah, almost.”
“And it’s not even breakfast time yet...”
“That was so good, Henry. I’m proud of you.”
“That I almost threw up?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “You went to the limit.”
“You can say that again.” My pulse is slowly starting to ease.
“It’s an important part of making progress in your training. Honestly. Tell me when you’re ready and we can jog slowly back. The others must be about to start the morning run.”
“Can’t we walk?” I suggest feebly, but Emma shakes her head.
“No chance, sorry. But we’ll go superslow. Cooldown tempo.”
“You have no heart.”
“Just as well, or I couldn’t run this fast.” When she points inquiringly toward the school buildings, I nod. She really is running slowly, but my stomach is still grumbling.
My dripping top is clinging to my body, the sweat is burning my eyes, but all I can think about are Emma’s words as we get closer to the school. At some distance away, I see the otherpupils doing their morning run. Some of them aren’t quite as half-hearted as the rest.
I turn my head to Emma. “You really want to find him, don’t you?”
I’m sure she knows who I mean. Her father. The man who gave her a reason to run until she can’t go on.
“I think so.”
