We make people jealous.
Older people wish their bodies worked like ours.
Little kids wish they were us. They want our long legs. Our laughter. Our freedom. Our arms draped over each other’s shoulders, our ponytails swinging when we walk.
We run all over town, but there is one run in particular that defines us.
It starts in a gorge that could break you. It doesn’t break us. We run up the stone steps, through the crevice the water has cut. Across the suspension bridge, a thread over the gorge. It is secret and misty in early mornings. We go down a long road, past Flatrock. The sun chases us along that road and through green farmland, rolling hills. Then we cut through the wildflower preserve, through the grass and blossoms and rumbling bees, to Fall Creek, where the water is deep and emerald green and the cliffs are darkest gray.
You can live a lifetime in a long run.
This one ends at the jump.
As I read it, the girls joined in, almost chanting. They knew all the lines. Syd must have told them to memorize it. They sounded powerful, saying the words that I’d written. Saying the words that we were.
As we finished the last few lines, I noticed something I hadn’t before. They were all wearing their hair ties.
Except Ella.
And her lips weren’t moving.
Because she didn’t know the words.
She hadn’t jumped.
139.
now
Down, down the long, quiet Fall Creek Road, the green trees forming almost a tunnel, a cocoon, overheard. Now that I am on my way, the rain has gone, the sun is setting. Evening gold through green, not the same as morning gold through the same trees. If you have been out in both, you know the difference.
I hear the water of the creek to my left as it makes its way over the stones at Flatrock. On both sides, the big trees and old homes keep watch over the road, over all the things and people that have passed along it all these years.
Now everyone is gone.
140.
once, that night
Ella’s eyes were huge.
She knew this wasn’t my idea. Didn’t she?
ButIwas the one holding the manifesto in my hand. The hair tie was onmywrist.
These were my words. I wasn’t going to let Syd change what I’d meant by them. This was my team, too.
I could still fix this.
“And while I’m up here,” I said, “we want to recognize our fastest freshman—someone who might turn out to be our fastest runner, in fact—as part of the team.” I didn’t look at Syd. I held out the manifesto in one hand, the hair tie in the other. “Ella Kane, would you please come up?”
The guys and girls started cheering. Ella came forward, head ducked, but when she looked up at me, her eyes were shining.
She said something I couldn’t hear as she took the manifesto and hair tie from me.
141.
now
