Chasing Hope (15 page)

B
randy took another bite of spaghetti, sneaking another glance as she did at Sabrina across the table, talking with her father. She seemed really uptight tonight. In fact, she’d been like this ever since she’d found out her parents were coming this weekend, but even after an hour Brandy still couldn’t figure out what made Sabrina so tense. They smiled a lot. Dressed nice. Nobody yelled. She couldn’t imagine them disappearing to go on a major drug binge overnight, or vanishing with the last of the food for the next week. She shook her head at the thought; upper-middle-class families had no concept of true stress.

That Koen guy seemed all right. He was chatting with Sabrina’s grandmother, talking about some old movie or other that they’d both seen. He seemed pretty genuine about it—not like he was just kissing up to get on her good side or anything, although maybe he was. One thing for sure, he was hot. Not in the buff football player kind of way, but more like a pop star. Sabrina had good taste in men, which surprised Brandy more than a little. She was pretty enough and all, but she seemed so . . . dull. Everything was work, work, work.

“So, Brandy, tell me about you. What kinds of things do you enjoy besides running?” Sabrina’s mother was the word
cute
wrapped up in a tiny middle-aged package. Her black hair had just a hint of red to it, and just enough curl that it made her ponytail a bit frizzy—which totally suited her. She was thin, pretty, and stylish in an understated sort of way. Brandy wondered what it would be like to have a mother like this—one that you never had to hide from your friends.

“Oh, you know, the usual.” Brandy didn’t think Sabrina’s mother would approve of what she enjoyed—not that she’d enjoyed any of it in the last couple of months.

“What kind of music do you like?” Her southern drawl was just like everything about her, understated and perfect.

“Rock. Hip-hop.” Again, answers she doubted would meet approval. Time to turn the conversation. “How about you, Mrs. Rice?”

“Please, call me Cookie. Mrs. Rice sounds old.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and leaned closer to whisper, “And makes me think of my mother-in-law, whom I prefer not to be compared to.”

“Cookie? That’s your name?” Brandy knew the question was probably rude, but how could she not ask it?

“That’s what everyone calls me. My real name’s Bernadette, of all things. When I was little I couldn’t pronounce it, and neither could anyone else under the age of ten. It seems I always walked around with a graham cracker in my hand—I called them cookies—and it stuck.”

“Nice.” Brandy realized that it really was nice. A vision passed through her mind of Cookie standing on the sidelines, cheering Sabrina on, smiling and clapping the entire time. How nice it must have been for Sabrina. “I bet you’ve watched more than your share of 5Ks over the years, huh?”

Cookie glanced toward Sabrina and took a sip of her ice water. “You know what? It never really occurred to me until you asked the question, but I guess tomorrow’s race will be the first one I’ve ever watched.”

“Really? I guess I just assumed . . .” Brandy felt an odd sense of loss as her dream of the perfect family dropped a few degrees. “I just thought with Sabrina being a runner and all . . . Well, I suppose they’re not that exciting to watch from a single spot on the sidelines.”

“Oh, I watched her school races, yes, if that’s what you meant. But never something like tomorrow’s run. I was too busy running in them.”

This answer more than surprised Brandy. “Really? You
ran
in them? With Sabrina?”

She laughed. “Technically, yes, I guess you could say we ran together. But she always finished fifteen or twenty minutes ahead of me. She would then plant herself near the finish line, and when she saw me coming, she’d run out to join me and cheer me on to run a little faster to the end.” She smiled as she recounted this, but her eyes grew misty. “I always loved that.”

Brandy could picture the scene. It made her . . . homesick . . . for something she’d never had. What would that feel like? “Do you still run sometimes?”

Sabrina’s mom shook her head. “Never.”

“Really? Didn’t you enjoy it?”

“Oh, I enjoyed it. Quite a lot, actually. But, after Sabrina . . .” She shook her head and looked toward Sabrina then, confirming that she was involved in another conversation before continuing. “Well, when it became apparent that things weren’t going to work out for her and running, she and I entered a local 5K together. By that point, one of her knees was bone on bone, so she couldn’t do anything but walk. I wanted to walk with her, but she insisted that
I go on ahead and get a good time. So I went ahead and ran my race, then stood near the finish line like she’d always done for me.

“When she finally rounded the corner, dead last, I could tell by the look on her face she was near tears. She told me later that a car had driven past her, and a young man had leaned out the window and yelled, ‘Hey slowpoke, need a ride?’” She wiped at her eyes and looked at Brandy. “She was so devastated, she’s never done another 5K since. And I’ve never run another step. I’m sure that young man has no idea how badly his words hurt, how much they still hurt, but it does make me wonder what would possess a person to say such a thing.”

Brandy focused her attention on rolling a meatball around on her plate. It sounded just like something she and her friends would do and she knew it. She looked toward Sabrina and thought about all the things she had gone through. It was so unfair in so many ways—different ways than Brandy’s life was unfair, but unfair just the same. “The thing is, to look at her, you’d never know anything was wrong with her. I’m sure that guy had no idea.”

“You’d be amazed at some of the comments that poor kid has endured for just that reason.” Cookie shook her head, then looked toward Brandy and reached out to touch her arm. “I’m so glad she has you. She needs running in her life, although she’s never realized it. It’s been a part of her for so long, then it was just gone. I’m glad you’re here now to give that part back to her.”

Brandy had never felt more unworthy in her entire life.

Brandy paced back and forth in her room, nerves zapping through her and making it impossible to think about lying down, much less sleep. She’d seen the look on Sabrina’s face when she was talking to her father tonight and had heard her mother’s
story. How was it even possible to begin to measure up to the expectations they all placed on her—that she placed on herself? “I can’t do it.”

Of course she couldn’t beat the Samson Academy kids. She couldn’t even beat Erin Methvin from her own team. What if she got nervous and ran too fast in the beginning again? What if she completely fell apart? What if . . .

Unable to stare at the shabby wallpaper in her room for another minute, Brandy did something she hadn’t done in a couple of months. She slid open the window, taking care to do it quietly, and climbed out. Maybe a walk around the block would help. Or just a slow jog? That’s what a real runner would do, right?

Yes. That had always calmed her nerves in the past.

She stretched out for a minute or two, not wanting to do something stupid and pull a muscle at this point. Finally, she stood up and began a slow pace in the opposite direction from the house where Sabrina and her family were all sound asleep by now. They were warm and comfortable in their beds, dreaming of fast times and victory and glory for tomorrow. It was best to avoid that area altogether.

After three or four blocks, she felt a little better and since she was headed in the general direction of town, she felt safe despite the late hour. There were plenty of cars driving past, and on the next street over she knew the parking lots were still half full at Walmart and a couple of fast-food places.

She heard a car coming up behind her. The headlights lit the path before her, showing her the cracks in the sidewalk. She sensed the car was slowing, and the fact that it didn’t soon pass her only confirmed her suspicion. The skin prickled at the back of her neck, but she told herself she was being silly. It was likely just a family pulling up in front of their house after dinner or a movie. Then she heard the engine almost idling, it was going so slow behind her.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and she ventured a glance over her shoulder, prepared to make an all-out run for it if necessary.

When she saw the jacked-up blue Camaro just over her left shoulder she almost wept with relief. She stopped running and approached the passenger-side window, taking deep breaths. “Hey.”

Samantha was in the passenger seat of Janie’s car. She lowered the window. “Kind of late for a run.”

“Yeah.” Brandy tried to act nonchalant. “Bored, I guess.”

“We can fix that. We’re just heading out to Charlie’s house for a little while. Hop in.”

“Nah, I’ve got to get back.”

“What, you’ve forgotten all your friends now? What’s the deal?”

“I’m training, all right? You know that doing this running thing is keeping me out of juvie right now. I got a race tomorrow, so I’m just out working off a few nerves.”

“Come on. Just for a little while. A couple hours at Charlie’s and I guarantee you that your nerves’ll feel better.”

Brandy knew what she should say. She knew exactly what she needed to do. But the offer of almost instant relief . . . it wasn’t like she had to do anything. It would be good to see everyone again—just a distraction, that’s all she needed. “Maybe just for a half hour or so. I can’t stay long. I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”

“Not a prob. You let us know when you want to come back, we’ll bring you right up to your doorstep. Promise.” Samantha opened the passenger side door, stepped out, and leaned the front seat forward.

Brandy looked into the darkness of the back seat, knew what was waiting for her if she didn’t turn for home right now.
Go back, go back.
She glanced down the road in the direction from which she’d come, knowing what awaited her there. More pacing. More nerves. No sleep.

She climbed into the back seat. “Crank up the tunes.”

A
long yellow banner announced
Sign-ins Here
in bright red letters. Beneath that, in a smaller font, there were three distinct groupings, A–G, H–O, P–Z. Beneath each sat a smiling race volunteer who marked off names and handed out numbers, the lines three or four people deep at all stations. Sabrina found herself frantically scanning the entire scene, desperate for a glimpse of Brandy. Where was she? And why wasn’t she answering her cell?

Since there were several hundred people here, it was possible that she’d just missed her in the chaos, right? She meandered through the crowd, spotting several kids that she recognized from the local track team. Over to one side waited a group of maybe a dozen runners, all dressed in cardinal-red shirts and black running shorts. Sabrina didn’t have to see what was written on their shirts to know exactly who they were. Samson Academy kids.

Sure enough, Kayla was standing at the front of the group, directing pre-race stretches, giving a pep talk. Today would be a big day for her.

Sabrina knew the thought was wrong, selfish even, but what she wouldn’t give to see Brandy beat a few of those kids. That would take Kayla down a notch.

She looked at her watch again. There was still a half hour before the race, but Brandy knew that she was supposed to be in Columbia before now. You never arrived at a race at the last minute. You got there early, signed in, stretched out, and took any of the late arrival kind of stress out of it. They’d talked about it numerous times.

Coming in separate cars had been a bad idea. Sabrina should never have let them talk her into this, in spite of the fact that Brandy and her grandmother were going to visit some cousins after the race. She should have insisted that Brandy ride with her and let Mrs. Jenkins ride with her family, then they could switch after it was all over.

Sabrina walked through the crowd again, searching, but finding no one. She called Brandy’s cell phone again, which went directly to voice mail. Again. Her parents and grandmother were standing together over near the start line, so she walked over to join them. “I can’t find her.”

“I’m sure they’re here somewhere. Maudie is always on time.” Nana’s tone didn’t quite match the confidence of her words.

“Your grandmother just hasn’t stopped talking about what a good job you’re doing with that young lady.” Dad looked at his own watch, but then put his arm around Sabrina. “I’m thinking, how about I take the entire group out for a big victory celebration? We can go to the nicest place in town—your pick.”

“Dad, victory sounds like a bit high of a goal. A good finish is what we’re hoping for here. Brandy is still new to all this.”

“Bah. I know you better than that. I’m sure you’ve got her trained up and ready to take this race by storm.”

And there it was. Dad’s expectations spelled out, with him
seemingly the only person who didn’t realize how unattainable they were. At this point, Sabrina’s only goal was Brandy’s arrival in time for the race.

The minutes ticked by. The line at the sign-in table began to dwindle, so Sabrina made her way over. “Can you tell me if Brandy Philip has checked in yet?”

The woman at the table flipped through a couple of pages on the clipboard in front of her, then ran her finger down the page. “Philip, Brandy. Nope. Not checked in yet.”

“Make your way to the starting line, please.” The announcement crackled over the makeshift loudspeakers, and the group as a whole began to move toward the large banner that stretched across the street. “We’ll be starting in just a couple of minutes.”

There was nothing for Sabrina to do now but go back over there and admit the truth to her family. Brandy had failed to show.

“Oh, sorry I’m late,” a voice said. “Brandy Philip.”

Sabrina turned to see Brandy at the check-in table. Her face was pale, dark circles under her eyes. “Where have you been?”

“I made it, okay? I don’t have time for a lecture now.” Brandy took her race number and some safety pins, then threaded her way through the crowd toward the starting line and away from Sabrina.

Maudie Jenkins was standing with Sabrina’s family when she made it back to where they were. “Oh, Sabrina, I’m so sorry. She . . . well, she ran into some trouble last night.” The way she said it left no doubt what that trouble involved. “She’s been sick to her stomach all morning. We were barely able to get her here.”

“I’ll just bet.” Sabrina looked toward her father. He wasn’t looking at her at all, but he’d heard the conversation. He was shaking his head slowly from side to side. It seemed that once again, she’d failed to live up to his expectations.

The starting gun cracked and the throng of runners surged
forward, leaving Sabrina and her family helpless to do anything but watch what was going to happen next. It was not going to be pretty.

“Sabrina? Is that you? I thought so.” Kayla’s overly perky voice sounded from somewhere behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“I . . . just came to watch the race.”

“I see.” Kayla looked around at the assembled family. “Your whole family, too, huh? Do you know someone racing?”

With everything inside her, Sabrina wanted to deny everything. She couldn’t face the humiliation of what was going to happen today, not if Kayla had the chance to gloat about it. She knew that everyone was looking at her, waiting for her answer, including Maudie Jenkins. Finally, she managed, “A friend of the family is running today.”

“Oh, that’s great.” She paused a moment, touched the bottom of her chin as if in thought, then said, “Wait a minute. I remember now. Someone told me you’ve been helping coach a girl. Is that it?”

“I’ve been helping the high school coach get her ready for cross-country season next fall.”

“Right. I’ve heard she’s a true running prodigy. What’s her name? I’ll look for her at the finish line. I hope she’ll give my kids a run for the money—they’ve been needing a good challenge but it’s hard to find. There aren’t that many young runners with that kind of talent and work ethic around these days. You know what I mean?”

Sabrina knew exactly what she meant. And it had nothing to do with today’s race.

The wait at the finish seemed to drag on forever. At last, a single runner emerged around the final turn. It was a teenage
boy, followed closely by another. Both of them wore red shirts and black shorts.

Kayla was by now standing among a group of supporters just a bit further down the race course. Sabrina could hear her voice as she cheered her runners on to victory. The clock passed seventeen minutes and it wasn’t long before the first female runner appeared around the corner, also wearing red and black. There was a twenty-something woman tight on her heels and they raced up until the very finish, the Samson Academy girl just eking out a victory. Another girl from her team followed soon after, making an amazing showing for Samson Academy. The clock passed eighteen minutes and then nineteen minutes with no sign of Brandy anywhere on the horizon.

More and more runners rounded the corner, clumped into groups now, making their finish places a bit more difficult to determine, not that it mattered. Brandy was nowhere among them.

Finally, at twenty-six minutes, Brandy slogged around the corner. She was partially bent over and had one hand across her abdomen. She stumbled across the finish line without ever looking toward Sabrina, hobbled over to a nearby tree, and vomited white foam into the grass.

A woman wearing a race volunteer T-shirt handed her a water bottle, which she took and went to sit on the curb. After a couple of sips, she looked as though she might vomit again. Her time of 26:15 was at perhaps the fiftieth percentile for the race participants, which included grandmothers and young mothers pushing double strollers. Brandy put her head in her hands, refusing to even look at Sabrina, much less speak with her.

When it was finally all over, the group in red giggled and squealed, gave out hugs and high fives all around. Kayla looked over the shoulder of her bouncing third-place finisher and smiled a fake sweet smile at Sabrina. She waved, one finger at a time. Sabrina simply nodded a response.

Maudie Jenkins petted Sabrina’s arm, murmuring something about thanks and being sorry. She leaned over and said something to Brandy. Brandy didn’t respond at all, but about a minute later, she slowly stood and took a couple of steps toward Sabrina.

“Thanks.” She mumbled the word in Sabrina’s general direction without ever actually looking at her, then turned and walked to the parking lot with her grandmother. It was that sullen complete lack of gratitude that finally pushed Sabrina over the edge. She pulled out her phone and sent a text message to Brandy.

Find someone else to train you. I’m done.

Sabrina’s parents were standing off to the side, behind a large oak tree, having a conversation of their own. She had to face the music at some point, might as well do it now. As she neared them she could hear her father’s voice, raised in anger. “You told me to come here and be supportive, and that’s exactly what I did. I told her I was proud, offered to buy a celebration lunch, but I mean, come on. . . . That girl hardly looked like she’d run a day in her life. And speaking of coaching, have you noticed the way Sabrina looks?”

Sabrina’s mother said something that Sabrina couldn’t quite hear, but his response was loud and clear. “Gained a little weight? She’s completely out of shape. I’m thinking it’s time she got some coaching of her own.”

Sabrina stopped dead, her feet unable to move and on the verge of getting as sick as Brandy. She looked down at her body, thinking about what she’d just heard her father say. She knew her jeans had gotten a little tight, but really? Looking down, she knew her father was right. This was not the same person she’d been for most of her life. How could Koen possibly be attracted to someone who looked like this? She knew the answer. He wouldn’t be for long.

She turned around and walked back to her grandmother’s
side. Nana lifted her hand to Sabrina’s cheek. “This wasn’t your fault, dear. You did everything you could have done and more.”

“I guess.” She just couldn’t think about it anymore.

“Did you find your mother and father?”

Sabrina glanced toward the tree where her parents were still arguing and shook her head. “No. Couldn’t find them anywhere. I’m sure they’ll meet us here if we just stay put.”

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out to see Koen’s name in the display. She pushed the button, taking a step away from her grandmother.

“Hey.”

“How’d it go?”

How did it go? There was a question that Sabrina couldn’t bear to answer truthfully. “Pretty well.”

“Great. How’d she finish? What was her time?”

“I’m, uh, not sure.”

“Huh? When have you ever been not sure of Brandy’s run time? Come on, I’ve seen your spreadsheet. I know better.”

“I don’t know, all right?”

“O-kay.” He paused for a moment. “So are there family plans tonight? Jared was talking about round-robin tennis. You up for it?”

“I’m pretty sure we’ll just be sticking close to the house for the rest of my parents’ visit. You go ahead and have a good time. I’ll see you in class on Monday.” Sabrina hung up the phone, not waiting for a response. It would be better for all of them if he wasn’t around this weekend.

The family drove into Nashville for lunch and then walked through the Opryland Hotel conservatory in almost complete silence. Nana tried to make small talk, but her words disappeared into the thick fog of awkward silence that encompassed them. By the time evening rolled around, the car ride home occurred with less than a dozen words spoken between them.

They were driving past the university, almost to Nana’s house, when Sabrina’s father said, “Hey, isn’t that your friend Koen?”

A group of about a dozen people, tennis racquets in hand, were heading toward the school courts, talking and laughing. Koen was in the middle of them, as were Jared and some of the others. But the one that caught Sabrina’s attention was standing on Koen’s left side. Her tennis dress was cute, white, and short. Lindy Stewart.

“Yes. . .” Sabrina’s chest had squeezed so tight it was hard to say the word, but she knew not to leave it at a single syllable. She tried to sound upbeat, “and a group of our friends.”

Sabrina looked at the beautiful Lindy, her entire attention focused on Koen, smiling as she swatted toward him with her racquet. Everything about her was so perfect. Her beautiful blond hair, her long limbs, her completely flat stomach. Sabrina looked down at her own midsection and thought about what she’d overheard her father say that afternoon. She touched the side of her nose and the puffy red blisters that seemed to be growing larger every day. Of course Koen would prefer Lindy. Who could blame him for that?