Breathe, Annie, Breathe
Page 78
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He points at me with a plastic spoon. “Now you’re talking.”
When the food is cooked, we sit on my bed Indian style and watch Sunday Night Football together. The official season hasn’t started yet, but Jeremiah insisted on watching because it’s the Titans. I’m pretty interested myself because Coach Woods’s older brother plays for them. I smile to myself, realizing I never would’ve met Jeremiah if not for her. I probably wouldn’t be training for a marathon anymore, either.
“What was Kelsey talking about?” Jeremiah asks, spooning noodles into his mouth. “She asked if you’d talked to me about something yet.”
I chew my macaroni. “It was nothing.”
He taps his bowl with his fork. “I don’t believe that.”
“You are the nosiest boy I’ve ever met.”
“Tell me what Kelsey meant, or I’m stealing the rest of your mac ’n’ cheese.”
“That’s evil.” We eat in silence for a minute or so until he speaks again.
“So they’re together now? How did that happen?”
“I told Kelsey she needed to take the risk with him.”
A knowing smile appears on his face. “And she…wanted you to take a risk with me?”
How did he figure that out? “You said you’d give me time,” I say quietly, digging my thumbnail into my palm.
He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “I can.”
I can’t define what we are or how I feel. I thought Kyle was my one and only. And now there’s Jeremiah…and I like being with him.
But I’m still not sure I’m ready to risk going after something more.
•••
“Matt!”
He sprints to me from the mile marker nine water stop. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter? Is it your knee?”
When I reach him, I grab his arms. “I need Vaseline. Now.”
He bites down on his lips but can’t contain the burst of laughter that erupts from his mouth. He digs in his pack and pulls out the glorious Vaseline. I grab it. Rush off the trail. Hide behind a tree. Scoop the gunk out and rub it between my legs, sighing loudly.
“Annie?” Concern fills Matt’s voice.
“If you tell your brother about this, I’ll kill you!”
He laughs. Hard.
Today we’re running twenty-two miles, our longest distance before the marathon next month. I’ve done thirteen miles already—nine to go.
After slathering Vaseline everywhere, I join back up with Andrew and Liza on the trail. They are both sniggering at my chafing incident. I scowl at them. Andrew started running with us a couple weeks ago. He even gave up his iPod. Now he entertains us with stories about his little boys from his first marriage and his job working as the sheriff over in Smyrna.
“Wait,” I say. “You got a 911 call because someone lost their python in their house and then it turned up at the Walmart?”
“In the produce section,” Andrew says. “I thought I was gonna have to shoot the thing but animal control arrived just in time. Now people want to sue Walmart for undue stress, even though it’s not their fault somebody lost their python.”
“Liza’s a lawyer,” I say. “She can handle it all.”
“I’m an employment lawyer,” Liza says. “I only deal with human animals.”
Matt’s assistants have tables set up every couple miles along the path. I find myself slurping water and pouring it down the inside of my shirt to stay cool. I eat Jolly Ranchers. Swing my arms back and forth. At about mile fifteen, I need to eat something more substantial or I won’t make it another mile, much less seven. From the side pouch of my CamelBak I pull out an energy gel pack. I haven’t eaten one of these before. Matt says the trick is to eat little bits at a time so I won’t get sick; with my weak stomach, I can’t take any chances. I rip the pouch open. Gooey, sticky stuff oozes out and coats my hands.
“Oh gross,” Liza says, giving the gel pack a dirty look.
I lick a tiny bit off my thumb. “It doesn’t taste too bad. It’s kind of like super sugary honey.” Over the next mile, I finish eating the gel pack but with no trashcans in sight and not wanting to litter, I stick the gooey wrapper in my CamelBak. I groan at the mess it will make.
“Ugh, this is terrible,” I say, trying to lick the stickiness off my fingers. I pray that a water stop is coming up, so I can wash my hands. I would wipe my hands on my shorts but I don’t want an even bigger mess. Then my stomach starts churning.
When the food is cooked, we sit on my bed Indian style and watch Sunday Night Football together. The official season hasn’t started yet, but Jeremiah insisted on watching because it’s the Titans. I’m pretty interested myself because Coach Woods’s older brother plays for them. I smile to myself, realizing I never would’ve met Jeremiah if not for her. I probably wouldn’t be training for a marathon anymore, either.
“What was Kelsey talking about?” Jeremiah asks, spooning noodles into his mouth. “She asked if you’d talked to me about something yet.”
I chew my macaroni. “It was nothing.”
He taps his bowl with his fork. “I don’t believe that.”
“You are the nosiest boy I’ve ever met.”
“Tell me what Kelsey meant, or I’m stealing the rest of your mac ’n’ cheese.”
“That’s evil.” We eat in silence for a minute or so until he speaks again.
“So they’re together now? How did that happen?”
“I told Kelsey she needed to take the risk with him.”
A knowing smile appears on his face. “And she…wanted you to take a risk with me?”
How did he figure that out? “You said you’d give me time,” I say quietly, digging my thumbnail into my palm.
He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “I can.”
I can’t define what we are or how I feel. I thought Kyle was my one and only. And now there’s Jeremiah…and I like being with him.
But I’m still not sure I’m ready to risk going after something more.
•••
“Matt!”
He sprints to me from the mile marker nine water stop. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter? Is it your knee?”
When I reach him, I grab his arms. “I need Vaseline. Now.”
He bites down on his lips but can’t contain the burst of laughter that erupts from his mouth. He digs in his pack and pulls out the glorious Vaseline. I grab it. Rush off the trail. Hide behind a tree. Scoop the gunk out and rub it between my legs, sighing loudly.
“Annie?” Concern fills Matt’s voice.
“If you tell your brother about this, I’ll kill you!”
He laughs. Hard.
Today we’re running twenty-two miles, our longest distance before the marathon next month. I’ve done thirteen miles already—nine to go.
After slathering Vaseline everywhere, I join back up with Andrew and Liza on the trail. They are both sniggering at my chafing incident. I scowl at them. Andrew started running with us a couple weeks ago. He even gave up his iPod. Now he entertains us with stories about his little boys from his first marriage and his job working as the sheriff over in Smyrna.
“Wait,” I say. “You got a 911 call because someone lost their python in their house and then it turned up at the Walmart?”
“In the produce section,” Andrew says. “I thought I was gonna have to shoot the thing but animal control arrived just in time. Now people want to sue Walmart for undue stress, even though it’s not their fault somebody lost their python.”
“Liza’s a lawyer,” I say. “She can handle it all.”
“I’m an employment lawyer,” Liza says. “I only deal with human animals.”
Matt’s assistants have tables set up every couple miles along the path. I find myself slurping water and pouring it down the inside of my shirt to stay cool. I eat Jolly Ranchers. Swing my arms back and forth. At about mile fifteen, I need to eat something more substantial or I won’t make it another mile, much less seven. From the side pouch of my CamelBak I pull out an energy gel pack. I haven’t eaten one of these before. Matt says the trick is to eat little bits at a time so I won’t get sick; with my weak stomach, I can’t take any chances. I rip the pouch open. Gooey, sticky stuff oozes out and coats my hands.
“Oh gross,” Liza says, giving the gel pack a dirty look.
I lick a tiny bit off my thumb. “It doesn’t taste too bad. It’s kind of like super sugary honey.” Over the next mile, I finish eating the gel pack but with no trashcans in sight and not wanting to litter, I stick the gooey wrapper in my CamelBak. I groan at the mess it will make.
“Ugh, this is terrible,” I say, trying to lick the stickiness off my fingers. I pray that a water stop is coming up, so I can wash my hands. I would wipe my hands on my shorts but I don’t want an even bigger mess. Then my stomach starts churning.
