The chatter behind us increases in volume.
“He’ssooofast. I bet he could outrun all the guys!”
Sara clears her throat. “So, are you gonna tell me or—?”
“I wish he was my boyfriend!”
“All the guys in our class suck compared to him, so lame and boring.”
As if on cue, Joe swoops past us with a polite “Hey, Sara!” Then he tosses her a wink before carrying on running.
Sara visibly swoons, and that right there is my final straw. My blood boils. A surge of adrenaline pulses through my veins. Do all these girls really think us guys are losers compared to Joe? Well, time to show them. He won’t look like such ahotshotif I’m faster than him.
So I bolt away from Sara and Tammy in an attempt to pass him.
I concentrate on my breathing, really pushing my legs to the max, as I pick up speed. And with this extra concentrated effort, I’m suddenly zooming past Joe.
Ha! Take that, new guy.
But then Joe quickly catches up, keeping an intense pace with me. I use all the fuel in my tank to speed up, telling myself I’m not getting winded, that I can make another push and come out ahead.
We curve around the track field, still neck and neck, then our coach hollers, “Boys, this is just a warm-up! Why are you racing?”
But then I hear the girls chanting. “Go Joe!Go Joe!”
Of course they want Joe to win. This only makes me run faster.
When we clear the next curve, Joe drops behind me. Ha! Who’s the hotshot now? I spare a glance over my shoulder and find him with both hands on his thighs, kneeling over to catch his breath, sweat trickling from his hairline and running down his cheeks.
I throw my hands in the air. I did it—I beat him!
However, my victory is fleeting. As soon as I rotate to face forward, my center of gravity fails me. It happens in an instant, so quickly that I don’t have time to right myself. My shoe catches on the ground, and I’m flying through the air before crashing onto the track.
Right on my arm.
THIRTY-FIVE
Sara
“Ah! That freakinghurts.”
After watching Patrick all but face-plant onto the track, Tammy, Joe, and I volunteered to take him directly to the school nurse. Now we’re clustered around him as he sits on the recovery couch while Nurse Kelly wraps his wrist in a bandage.
“Please hold still,” the nurse says through a sigh.
I reach for Patrick’s good hand and squeeze. “You’re okay, Patrick.”
From beside me, Tammy’s gaze drops to our intertwined hands. I couldn’t help but notice that the entire time Patrick was racing Joe, she was cheering forPatrick. And when I’d turned to look at her, a flush crept into her cheeks. Between her comment in the classroom and wanting Patrick to win the nonrace that turned into a race, I wonder if she’s starting to like him as more than a friend. The blush was a familiar reaction; the same one I get whenever I’m around Joe.
“Do you think it’s broken?” Joe asks the nurse.
“Hmm, maybe.” She pins the wrap in place. “But I’m no doctor. Best thing you can do is get to the hospital for some X-rays, so I’ve called your parents. They’re going to pick you up and take you.”
“Great. I’m sure Mom is thrilled.” Patrick groans.
Nurse Kelly checks her watch, then starts for the door. “School’s just about over. You’re all free to go—unless you want to wait here with Patrick.”
Once she leaves us in the nurse’s station, Joe turns to Patrick. He’s suddenly bashful, hand lingering on the back of his neck.
