Page 60 of Let the Games Begin
“Clear your head, Ezekiel. Take. A. Walk,” said Coach Adam with measured, no-nonsense finality. It wasn’t up for discussion.
Zeke let out a frustrated breath. He was about to reply with a quick remark, saying that it washistraining session and thathewould stop whenhewas finished. That Coach Adam had no right to tell him what to do, that he wasn’t his dad, or his uncle, and that Zeke could and would do whatever he wanted. But as he felt the words bubbling up, he realized he might say something he didn’t mean. Which probably meant that he really did need to clear his head. So, he picked up his bag and left the gym without saying another word. Then he did what he always did when he was feeling emotions he didn’t know how to handle. He went on a run.
He began at GB House and then turned left. He pressed play on a news podcast, but the sound of political chaos and natural disasters wasn’t enough to distract him from the thought of Olivia.
Zeke had gone years without really talking to anybody about his dad or all the complications that came with grief because he’d been worried about what would happen if he opened himself up too much. He didn’t want people to look at him differently, to go from seeing him as Zeke Moyo the star athlete to Little Z, the fourteen-year-old boy who’d just lost his favorite person and had no idea how to handle it. It had been over ten years now, and he still wasn’t sure he knew how to handle it.
He ran past the athletes’ apartments, over the bridge, and into a park filled with trees. He’d found a way to cope with his grief, to distract himself with running and competitions and the relentless drive to constantly outdo himself. But the truth was that talking to Olivia about it had lifted a bigger weight off his shoulders than anything else. Maybe that was the problem. That sitting on the ground with her while he gave her a glimpse into his insecurities had changed things for her. Maybe shehadliked him, but the panic attack and talking too much about his feelings spooked her. Had it been too much emotion, too much fragility? Girls said they liked a guy who could talk about their feelings, but maybe only when they did it in a contained enough way to still seem manly.
The photos with Valentina didn’t help, but perhaps they’d just given her an easy out to end things. It was a lot simpler to finish something because you suspected someone was untrustworthy than because the guy you thought you’d liked had come on too strong with his emotions and complications. Zeke ran faster, annoyed with himself for revealing too much about the inside of his head.
As he circled back to the athletes’ apartments to end his run, he saw a guy wearing a white-and-red tracksuit walking toward Japan House. Zeke was already feeling pretty low, but as he realized it was Haruki, he felt himself deflate even more.
Zeke had been raised on loyalty. He treated his closest friends like siblings. If he’d been friends with somebody or they’d been there for him when he needed them the most, Zeke took them in like family. So, as he walked over to Haruki, he felt the sharp pain of knowing he’d let down someone he loved. Haruki normally had a smile on his face, but as he turned, all Zeke could see was disappointment.
“Hey, I tried to call you,” said Zeke, knowing that he could have done a lot more than that.
“I was busy,” said Haruki with an unfamiliar coldness.
Zeke knew he’d made a mistake, but it wasn’t until he saw Haruki’s face that he realized just how bad things were. He had to apologize.
“About Olivia. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you were talking about—” started Zeke, but Haruki cut him off.
“No,weweren’t talking. Because we don’t talk.”
“We do talk.”
“Italk toyouall the time—I tell you about work and who I’m seeing, my family and what scares me. But you never tell meanything.Not really,” said Haruki, his voice a mixture of sadness and anger.
“I call you all the time,” said Zeke defensively.
“No, I call you. Do you know, your brothers and your mum call me more than you do?”
“My mum calls you?” Zeke was surprised.
“Yes, your whole family does. Whenever you’re sad and distant and refuse to tell them about anything beyond how your last race went, they call me to figure out if you’re okay because you don’t talk to them either,” he said.
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. You never tell us how you’re feeling. Sometimes I see you and know you’re going through it, but you just force yourself to handle all the bad things alone. And so you don’t let people into the good things either,” Haruki said.
Zeke was speechless.
“And if we hadn’t bumped into Olivia that night in the city, would you have even told me about her?” asked Haruki.
Zeke was silent.
“No, you wouldn’t have,” said Haruki, with a disappointment that made Zeke wonder how long his best friend had been feeling this way about him. How long all of the people around him had been feeling that way.
“I’m sorry,” said Zeke, because it was the only thing he was sure of. Then he said, “You really liked her, didn’t you?”
“Kinda,” said Haruki with a shrug, but his expression was so dejected that Zeke knew Haruki was holding back. They stood in silence for a moment.
“Haruki, you’re my best friend. And I like Olivia, a lot. But I’d never let a girl get in the way of our friendship. If that’s going to make this weird between us, I won’t—”
“Zeke, come on.” This time Haruki didn’t sound sad, he sounded annoyed. Really annoyed. “I didn’t even know her last name until the other night. Is that why you think I’m mad?” he said, shaking his head like Zeke was completely missing the point.
“I thought—”
