Page 47 of I'm Gonna Get You Back
Mitchell kicks me under the table. I kick him back.
“Good. West drummed up a lot of potential donors this weekend, and I think some of them may be interested in investing in your Olympic journey.”
My stomach plummets. “What?”
His expression turns apologetic at my tone. “Imighthave let it out of the bag that we met with Coach Andrews back in April. His roster fills up fast, and it’s not cheap. Until you get a brand deal, all we’d need is a sponsor, and seems like as good a time as any to do some networking.”
I’m not even cleared for regionals and Dad thinks I’m ready for theOlympics? I look up, and Julianne is watching me closely, a furrow of concern between her eyes. This is not good. Maybe it’s time to tell them.
“‘Today I will do…,’” Dad prompts.
“‘What others won’t,’” I recite automatically.
“‘So tomorrow I can do…’”
“‘What others can’t.’”
Dad grins. “Mentality of a champion!”
I can’t remember when we started reciting this quote. I’m not even sure where it came from. But as a former runner himself, Dad knows training my mind has been as crucial as my body.
But now it’s adding to the pressure instead of relieving it.
“Okay.” Dad claps his hands together. “Let’s get moving. Legacy traffic is a nightmare, and I want to be sure you’re warm. Oh, and do something with your hair. Principal West wants you there for some pre-run interview.”
Interview.
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
But Dad’s already out the door.
“You know you shouldn’t run today,” Mitchell says quietly.
Despite the rising panic in my chest, I remind myself that Jason said I was close to being able to jog anyway. I have a brace on. Could one run be so bad?
When I notice the date on my phone, I realize I forgot to turn in a humanities assignment. I log in to my student portal to send a quick message to my professor. That’s when I see the notice at the top. I tap on it, and I lose the last of my appetite.
Academic probation.
Fuck. Now? Already? This isn’t my first notice or warning, but I could’ve sworn I had more time to salvage things. To turn that one bio assignment in that was a quarter of my grade, and to retake theart history midterm I slept through. Didn’t the first notice say by… I check the date again. Oh, itistoday.
Even though they said I couldn’t lose my scholarship for getting hurt, I could absolutely lose it for this. The Legacy scholarship has the same stipulations. Youhaveto stay in good academic standing.
I could lose everything.
How am I going to keep this from Dad? The stress alone is more than he should face right now. If I lose my scholarships, it would then be up to my parents to pay for two college tuitions along with the medical bills next year.
It would sink us.
I can’t focus on this now. So I distract myself by clearing the plates, and then we all hustle to the car. I say low to Mitch, “Do you know if this interview is with Clara?”
“Ask her yourself. This is me”—he takes a large, exaggerated step ahead of me—“officially out of the middle.”
I roll my eyes and spend the short drive finger-combing my hair, but I don’t think it makes much of a difference. When we arrive fifteen minutes later, there is a crowd of people at the starting line.
“What the hell?”
The Fun Run is usually the least-attended Legacy event. Shakespeare in the Vines and the banquet are the two big draws of the weekend. Not theFun Run. But the group is massive. From the bookstore to the Lodge, they’ve completely taken over the town square.
