Page 8 of I'm Gonna Get You Back
I was a little surprised by her response, since she and Amaya were best friends. Then again, I didn’t know if anyone was as lucky as I was to have a best friend who had their back the way Delaney had mine.
The other girls nodded like Nicole had a point, and Delaney and I exchanged a quick glance. Had that actually worked? If so, then Delaney hadn’t just helped me dodge a social bullet—she’d sent it in the opposite direction. I basically owed her my firstborn.
Mercifully, Coach Rousseau, Reid’s dad, started practice and arranged everyone into our timed groups, separating us into varsity and JV.
I managed to feel relieved for a whole minute before Josh jogged toward us from the parking lot.
“Nice of you to join us, West,” Coach called out.
“Sorry, Coach,” Josh responded. “Late night.” He winked at me in front of everyone, and my entire body went cold. The stares on my back prickled. The low whispers started instantly.
Just like that, the bullet righted its course.
By the time we started running, I felt like a wire about to snap.
I launched myself onto the trail, the first mile passing faster than any ever had. I pushed hard trying to block out every side-eye. Only, it didn’t work as well as usual, so I forced my legs to move faster. My lungs seared with the effort. But no matter how hard I tried to push it out of my mind, I couldn’t outrun my thoughts.
If Josh and Amaya were still together, that made me no better than the woman Dad left Mom for this time. It was one thing to make a mistake; it was another to hurt someone else while doing it.
By the second mile, instead ofright, left, right, left, it was like the rhythm of my footfalls slapping the dirt were mocking me with the message in my head:Dad left. Dad left. Dad left.
Again.
Not knowing when he was coming back this time.If. But knowing all too well that if he did, Mom would take him back as usual. He’d apologize, and she’d forgive him, and they’d call it love. Only I seemed to know that it was bullshit.
At the fourth mile, a stitch formed right under my ribs. But I couldn’t stop. I was almost done. Rounding the corner of the path back toward the parking lot, the towering evergreens shuddered above me in thebreeze. I stretched my rib cage with a lungful of the piney scent for the final leg.
Reid was waiting at the trailhead the way he always did after finishing first. He watched everyone return, hands on his hips, his stare intense and narrow. He leveled it on me. Not on my face, but on my body. My alignment.
For some reason it had aneffect.
My spine straightened on instinct; my running posture snapped into place. I activated my kick, pumping my arms, sweat pouring down my temples. I gave it everything I had as I crossed the threshold with a final gasping burst of breath.
A wave of nausea rolled through me as I slowed. I hunched over, hands slipping a bit against my slick knees as I gasped for air, my face on fire. Tears sprang from the backs of my eyes, but it had to be from pushing so hard. I couldn’t be sad. I didn’tdosad.
“You can get lightheaded like that,” a deep voice said.
Reidsaid.
He never talked to me. Or anyone, really. I didn’t know if it was because he was stuck-up, shy, or socially anxious, but he’d been fully standoffish since he arrived.
I cast a glance at him, and his hair was darker with sweat, his skin flushed across his sharp cheekbones.
I forced myself upright and shot him a baleful glare, my chest still rising and falling rapidly.
“I know,” I gasped out.
Not that I was even in the same stratosphere as him, but I had been running cross-country for four years, too. I didn’t need him telling me what to do. Reid nodded and turned away.
After a few panting minutes and several chugs of water, my breathreturned. But when I took a step forward, a sudden shock of pain shot through my calf muscle. Just as Coach and the rest of the team took off for the cooldown run, I sank to the rocky dirt, clutching my leg. I tried to straighten it to release the muscle, but it didn’t work. I couldn’t help the tears as they pushed through my lashes this time.Damn it.
Suddenly, I felt a presence at my side. “You have to keep it straight.”
My eyes flew open, and I swiped a palm across them. “Where did you—” I couldn’t finish my sentence because another bolt of pain ripped through my calf.
“It’s going to keep cramping until you straighten it out.”
“Iknow,” I said through clenched teeth. “But it hurts too much.”
