“Lots of power to use in all the stop and go traffic around here,” he commented.
“Yeah but—”
He pulled out his phone and then handed it to me. Staring back at me was a BMW X5M SUV. I smiled and looked up at him as he finished my sentence.
“But you have the power if you want it.” He smiled.
“Do you love yours?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. And you’re right, they are incredible.”
It was close to 5:00 by the time we wrapped up our initial talk. He didn’t seem so bad yet, but I was sure things would get more invasive and turn to crap. He followed me out to the lobby and told me he’d see me next week.Right. Next week.Barb was sending the text to my mom to let her know that I was done with my appointment and leaving the office. Fucking babysitter.
* * *
I had takena warm-up lap around the track a few minutes ago, and as I was sitting on the field stretching, I scanned the stands for my mom. She better fucking show up. She knew how much this meet meant to me today. It was my first meet running anchor. The rest of my team was made up of juniors and seniors, so this was a big deal to me.
That wasn’t to say that I didn’t have fans or supporters in the stands. There were a bunch of girls in the front that held signs with my name in glitter, “Bran’s our man,” and “Bran’s our anchorman.” I also might have posted a few pics on Instagram of me shirtless and just in my running shorts. And those pics just might have had the shorts low enough to see the lines from my “V.” There also might have been a quick video of me with my legs parted while I was stretching and talking about school pride … and the legs on my running shorts just might have been loose.
So there were some fans and supporters in the stands for me. Before I put my phone in my gym bag, I sent my mom a text.
Brandon: Race is about to start.
Maybe she was driving and was on her way, or maybe she was stuck in traffic. I gathered at the side of the track with my team and prepared to start. There was no sign of my mom in the packed stands. Anger began to build in me rapidly. The race had started, and our first guy was off and running. I paced a little to keep my legs warm while keeping an eye on the stands. Mainly I was watching for anyone approaching the stands because I hadn’t seen her yet.
Our second guy started, and we were already in second place, but the guy who had been in third passed our guy.
“Come on!” I yelled my encouragement. “Dig!”
Still no sign of Mom, and the anger spilled over on the fact that we were behind.
“Let’s go! We’re not losing! Dig!” I hollered as our second runner put us in fourth place, sending our third runner off with some room to make up.
The second runner went down on one knee, clutching his side from a cramp. I crouched beside him while our first runner grabbed our coach. I glanced up as our third runner rounded the last straightaway, but he hadn’t made up much ground. In frustration, I dug my fingernails into my thigh as hard as I could.
“Brandon, get into position to receive the baton,” my coach instructed.
I pounded the grass of the field with my fist before I got off the ground.Fucking last place. I guess it’s good my mom isn’t here to see this shit.I jogged into position on the track and lost focus on my runner as I picked up on heckling students from another school.
“Beverly Hills boys can’t keep up with athletes from other schools!” one asshole yelled.
“Can’t buy a win here, boys!”
Fuck them.
As our runner hit the straightaway, my three opponents blew by me. I began to run and stretched my arm out behind me with my hand wide open to receive the baton. The moment it hit my hand, I gripped it tightly and took off.
Putting everything I had into the race, I passed the third-place guy by the time I hit the second turn. Mid-way down the straightaway, I passed the second-place guy, and I was neck and neck with the guy in first place at the third turn.
“No way, rich boy,” the first-place guy panted.
Kids yelled and screamed my name. Other parents cheered me on. Hopefully, my mom made it. I pushed myself and focused on the finish line, and soon the hands and arms of my direct competition were no longer in my peripheral vision. I hit the ribbon first and claimed the victory!
Quickly I was engulfed in hugs by my teammates and coach. Our team was given the first place blue ribbons, and I held it proudly in my hand while I guzzled water. As we settled down, our coach talked to us about staying focused and not giving up.
“Never, ever give up. Even when it seems like all hope is lost, never give up,” he preached.
The other three boys from the team went to meet up with their families while I went to gather my gym bag. I pulled my phone out to see if she had at least bothered to text me back.
