“Come on in, Joshua.” I tug the hem of my running tank down a little lower to cover my ass. I often hold office hours on Saturdays, so half the class has seen me in my running clothes before, but today’s shorts leave very little to the imagination. “Did you have any problem finding a parking spot?”
He frowns. “I thought it’d be empty on campus today. My pop is in the loading zone waitin’ for me.” His gaze flicks to the window, then back again. “You’re not gonna miss your run because of the parade, are you? Shoot. I should have worked faster and turned this in yesterday.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m trying the eighteen mile loop around Lady Bird Lake again.”
He lets out a low whistle. “When I used to help Pop at the ranch, we’d walk a good five miles a day, but that toasted my hide somethin’ fierce.”
“Well, you were probably doing a lot more than walking. Feeding the cows, running the tractor, bailing hay? It’s just me, my water bottle, and six months of training. I can’t wait to have my weekends back when the marathon is over.”
Joshua shifts, the portfolio tight against his chest. “Uh, don’t open this until later, okay? If it ain’t good, I don’t want to know until after the wedding.”
“You’re incredibly talented. If the rest of your work this semester is any indication, you’ll be just fine. But I’ll log it in today and grade it on Monday with the rest of the class. Promise.”
His shoulders sag in relief, and he backs toward the door. “Thanks, Ms. Stone.”
“Congratulations on your wedding!” I call once I lock the portfolio in the old cabinet at the very back of the room, but he’s already gone.
Why was he so nervous? He’s always been quiet in class, but he has some real talent with oils. Curiosity gets the better of me, so I return to the cabinet and take a quick peek.
“Oh, my God.”
The midnight sky blazes with stars. A swollen moon hangs in the corner of the canvas, so luminous, it spills silvery light across everything beneath it.
At the center, a woman rises above a crowd. She’s framed by tall poles, each with a lantern glowing gold against the darkness. Flowers bloom at her feet, twining up her arms, all the way to a crown of blossoms around her head.
Her hands stretch skyward, palms open, as if she’s drawing the light of the moon down into her body. Her blond hair flows behind her in a rush of motion.
The whole scene pulses with reverence and awe. It’s less like paint on a canvas and more like a song caught mid-verse. Something so hauntingly beautiful, it’s hard to look away.
It’s stunning. Moving, even. The kind of painting that makes you believe in something more, even if you never thought yourself capable of faith.
I’ll write up some notes for Joshua on Monday, but his final grade is already set. This piece is, without question, an A.
Eight miles into the run and I feel like I’ve just started out. My endorphins kicked in right away—the energy of the crowd marching from the college was electric. For the first thirty minutes, I ran along the parade route, and while I’ve left them far behind by now, I got enough “lookin’ great” and “you go, girl” comments from the drag queens to put me on cloud nine.
Add in the view of the lake on this beautiful, clear day, and I’m practically floating through the miles.
Pulling a fuel packet from my tiny hip pouch, I tear it open with my teeth and choke down the vaguely chocolate pudding-flavored energy gel. Trying to run while shoving the crumpled foil into my pack is awkward as all get out, but I manage to tuck it away as I turn off the trail and onto the road that leads back to town.
This is the perfect training loop. Traffic is almost non-existent, there are plenty of trees for shade, and a convenience store at mile twelve has clean bathrooms. One of the other teachers told me about this trail a couple of months ago, and I’ve been in love ever since.
A quarter mile ahead, a white cargo van is parked across all three spaces in a little pullout area by the side of the road. Instinctively, I move further onto the opposite shoulder and my hand brushes over the pepper spray clipped to my running belt.
The van’s engine rumbles to life. The driver flashes me a peace sign, and I reply in kind—rules of the road no matter how you’re getting from one point to another.
But as I pass, he leans out the window with something in his hand. Two little wires fly toward me, and twin jolts of pure, unadulterated agony spread out from my stomach.
My vision goes white. Black spots burst amid the blinding nothingness.
Every muscle seizes at once. Do I scream? I should scream. But…I…can’t hear anything over my pounding heart.
My head slams into the dirt. Rocks scrape against my bare arms.
Confusion gives way to terror, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t move. Or fight. Only panic as I struggle to breathe.
Nothing makes sense. Not the deep voices on either side of me. Not the pressure around my arms and legs. Not the loss of the sun’s warmth on my skin.
I hit another hard surface, but there are no rocks this time. Only the vague scents of sweat and motor oil.
