Seconds (4 page)
First. First! He had won! He knew he could do it. He knew it. He threw his head back, trying to draw in enough air, and walked around a bit. The official at the line was giving him the thumbs-up and saying something to him, but he couldn't make it out so he just nodded. He wanted to wait around at the finish line to see who would come in next. He wanted to see those green shoes come across the line. There was no one yet. No one. This was incredible. Unbelievable. He had nailed it! He felt great. He felt fantastic. He feltâ¦terrible. Before Jake could see who came in next, he had to get out of there. Fast. He had to find a bathroom, a spot in the woods, somewhere. He was going to be sick.
Whew. Better. Jake sat up against a tree for a while and then, when he felt a little stronger, he wandered down to the picnic shelter to see if the results had been posted. And there it was:
#1 Jake Jarvis
. He stared at it. The letters looked 3-D, and he imagined big beams of light shooting out of them. Jake smiled and took in a few deep, slow breaths. He saw Simon sitting on the curb and strolled over to him. Jake had his hands up behind his head. He felt really lousy. He was shaky and his insides were in knots and his head felt like a big echoey cave, but he tried not to let on.
“Hey, Simon.” He sat down, but not too close. His breath smelled like pickles. He definitely felt better sitting.
“Jake.”
“Good race today?”
“Excellent. I came in at twenty-five, and I'm still alive. Moving up just a little bit every time.”
Jake nodded. He waited. He wanted to tell Simon he had won.
“It was a great day for a run, wasn't it?” Simon continued. “The sun's out for once. The birds are singing.”
“The birds?”
“Yeah. Ever notice how many different types of birds there are in this forest?”
“No.”
“And all the different kinds of trees?”
“Like the one that reached out and grabbed you last week?” Jake grabbed Simon's arm just above the elbow, then punched him lightly on the shoulder. He was glad to see the mark on Simon's face had faded quite a bit.
Simon laughed. “It was a sugar maple, I think, but I'm going out on a limb there. Get it? Limb? I've been thinking maybe I'll branch out and become a comic. Ha ha. Branch out? What do you think?”
“Uh-huh.” Jake waited. He really wanted to tell Simon he had won.
“There are animals too. Last week there was a snake. This week there were rabbits. These are hoppy trails, you know.”
Jake was getting impatient. “I'm not here to look at the wildlife, Simon. I'm focused on the finish line.”
“Well, there's a lot more going on out there than just the running.”
“Maybe, but you don't win that way!”
“I think you do.”
Simon squinted at the long line of cars pulling out onto the highway. “Hey, does your dad still drive a green Jetta? Was he here? I haven't seen him in a long time.”
Jake looked at the cars, then shook his head. “Nah, he doesn't usually come out.” He paused for a moment. “Anyway, I had my eyes on the prize and it's mine today.” He stood up, hands on his hips in a kind of superhero pose. His stomach cramped. He tried to make his grimace pass for a grin.
“Oh yeah? First? Way to go!” Simon stuck up his hand for a high five.
Jake slapped it. “Yep, I knew I could beat that Spencer Solomon.”
“Ahh.”
“It was just a matter of time. Just a matter of wearing him down. He's all show, no go, you know,” said Jake. He thought Simon might appreciate the wordplay.
“Uh, actually,” said Simon, “Spencer's not here today.”
“What?”
“He's sick.”
“Sick?” Jake was reminded of his own queasy stomach. He sat down again. “Not likely! Scared, maybe!”
“Nope. Not chicken, just the chicken pox.”
“Get out! Chicken pox is for little kids!”
“He never got it when he was little. Guess he picked it up from his younger sister.”
“No way.” Jake remembered having chicken pox in kindergarten. He and Simon had had it at the same time. The first couple days were not so fun, but after that they'd spent most of a week watching cartoons and building Hot Wheels tracks together. They'd tied together a bunch of elastics and made a great bungee jump for their Lego people. “Geronimo!” they'd hollered before every jump. It had been fun.
“Wait a minute,” said Jake. He was beginning to feel angry. This was not turning out the way it was supposed to. “How come you know so much about Spencer anyway?”
“He's my neighbor.”
“He doesn't live in that neighborhood. I should know. That used to be
my
neighborhood.”
“He moved into your old house!”
“What? A family named Johannsen moved into my house.”
“Yeah, the Johannsens moved in, and then they moved out a year later when their dad got transferred. That's when Spence moved in.”
“Spence, huh. You guys tight?”
“Not really.”
“You guys over at each other's places all the time?”
Simon eyed Jake a minute. “Now and then he hollers,
Hey, Patty, want to shoot some hoops in the driveway?
”
“Patty? What, like hamburger patty, potato patty? You let him call you names?”
“No, Patty like Patterson, which is my last name, if you remember. It's what you used to call me when you hollered over the fence.”
They were both quiet for a second. This was not turning out at all the way it was supposed to, thought Jake. “What have you got against the guy anyway?” asked Simon with a sigh.
Well, the fact that he beats me all the time and when I finally beat him I find out he wasn't actually in the race, thought Jake, but he didn't say it.
“I'm going home,” Jake said finally.
“Me too.” Simon stood up and slung his backpack over one shoulder. It was faded and scuffed. Spiderman looked out at Jake as Simon turned.
Jake shook his head. “Aren't you a little old for that Spiderman backpack?”
“Never. It's a classic! Love what you love, man.”
“I love running,” Jake said.
“No, you don't.” Simon laughed. “You love winning.”
Jake shrugged. “Is there a problem with winning?” he asked. “Isn't that the whole idea?”
Simon smiled, a little sadly. “Good run today, Jake. See you later.”
“Yeah.” As Jake passed the results board, he saw his name again at number one, but the 3-D effect and the beams of light seemed to have vanished.
When he got home, Jake told his mother he was tired and asked if he could skip dinner until later. She felt his forehead and ruffled his hair and asked if he was okay. He nodded and went to his room. He looked up chicken pox on his computer. Simon was rightâit didn't just affect little kids. In fact, it was usually worse for kids who got it when they were older. Leave it to Spencer to ruin the race by not coming. He ruined everything. He had Jake's shoes. He lived in Jake's house. He probably had Jake's room! He'd stolen Jake's friend! Jake knew this wasn't true, but he didn't care. He had come in first, and it didn't even count. If Spencer had been there, Jake might still have won. Or he might not have. He'd given every ounce of energy to that run. He didn't think he could run like that again. And now, even if Spencer did come back and Jake beat him, he wouldn't know if it was for real or if being sick had set Spencer back. Who got chicken pox when they were twelve? In the middle of cross-country season? It bothered Jake that he had won and it wasn't good enough. It bothered him that he might not
be
good enough. It bothered him that people didn't seem to take things seriously. Chicken pox. Puns. Jokes. Snakes. Rabbits. Spiderman.
He looked around the room. It bothered him that he had striped curtains and Spencer Solomon probably had the hockey ones hanging in his old room. It bothered him that he was unbelievably hungry, but his stomach still hurt so much he didn't think he could eat anything. It bothered him that there might not be anything downstairs that he actually wanted to eat. He didn't even want to think about spaghetti or anything with peanut butter. It bothered him that all of this bothered him. What was the matter with him? Something had to change.
He had some spelling words he needed to look over. He had some magazine articles he wanted to read. He had to figure out how to intensify his training program even more. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to do anything. He was tired. So he just sat on his bed for a long time. After a while, his mother called up the stairs that the phone was for him. He glanced over at the clock on his bedside table. The glowing numbers told him it was already seven thirty. He'd been sitting in the dark. He hadn't even noticed.
“Hello?”
“Jake?”
“Yes.”
“Hi. It's Dave Driscoll here. I'm with the Diamond Running Club.”
Jake had heard of them. What did Dave Driscoll want to talk to him about? “Okay.”
“We've been invited to an event in Deep Rapids next Saturday, and we can take a team of five runners. I've got four. Heard you were the top-place runner in your division in the city league. We're wondering if you'd like to join us.”
“Are you sure you're not looking for Spencer Solomon?”
“Who?”
“The top-place runner.”
“Is this Jake Jarvis?”
“Yes.”
“I've got a list here with your name on top. Look, son, if you're not interested I can call the next guy.”
“No, hang on. I'm interested.”
“Okay. Let me give you some details. We have a practice tomorrow afternoon. Can you make it?”
“Sure.”
Cedar Grove Conservation Area, 4:30
.
As Jake was writing the time down on a piece of paper, his dad and Luke came in. Luke danced around the kitchen, playing the counter, the table, the Tupperware and finally the pickle jar inside the fridge like a set of drums. He took out a can of pop, shut the fridge door with his elbow and whirled around, grinning. Jake's dad was leaning against the doorframe, laughing.
“Where did you guys go?” asked Jake.
“A concert. The Cave Dwellers. It was awesome.”
“Oh.”
Shawn Marshall, Paul Biggs, Sam Jii and Tony Capelli. Jake nodded as Dave Driscoll introduced him to each member of the Diamond team. He tried to figure out who his stiffest competition would be. Shawn was tall and thin with thick, wavy, light-brown hair down to his shoulders. He'd look like a surfer if he wasn't so pale. Jake wondered if Shawn would be able to run faster if he cut his hair. He wondered if he'd be able to run faster himself if he cut his hair. Or even shaved his head. Hmmm. He'd have to think about that.
Paul was small, even if his name said otherwise, and full of energy. He was constantly moving, bouncing on his toes, jumping, rolling his shoulders. Sam was quiet, with a certain steady look in his eye. Tony was dark-haired, short and stocky. He looked like he could simply power his way to the finish. They were all wearing matching jerseys, silver with a diamond-shaped logo on the front made out of four triangles, two black, two royal blue. The two small outer triangles were stylized running shoes. The two larger inner triangles resembled racing flags. The name Diamond ran in block letters along one edge. Sharp. Dave had given Jake a jersey, but he wished the club provided shoes too. He looked down at his worn spikes and then at those of the other guys. Six of the shoes looked as scuffed as his. But one pair was new. And green. One of the runners was wearing the exact same green spikes Spencer had. Jake looked up. Sam. He knew it. Sam was the one he'd have to watch.
