THE PHYSICIAN’S RELEASE FORM FINALLY arrived yesterday afternoon. I’m wearing a University of Wisconsin Bucky the Badger tank top that Trish’s mom gave me as a going-away present, and I’m headed out of the locker room to practice, forms in hand and heart in mouth.
There are only four people stretching when I arrive at the fence between the parking lot and the track, and Jamie is one of them. She’s wearing a sleek black tank top over a running bra and she looks great—I’m sorry, but anyone would think so—and I begin to regret wearing my derpy Bucky the Badger tank.
Look at her! At the others! Long, lean, muscular legs. Runner’s legs. Not like my short, thick Hobbit legs. Mom was right. Cross-country was a mistake.
It’s not too late to change my mind. I make a slow, casual arc so it’s not too obvious that I’m chickening out and running away—ho-hum, just out for a little stroll after school with medical and parent permission forms in my hand—and I’ve almost made it all the way around when someone says, “Hey! Bed Bath and Beyond, right?”
Jamie. She’s making fun of me. Keep walking. Pretend you didn’t hear.
“Hey, wait up!” I hear footsteps, and then there’s a hand on my shoulder. “Sana! Aren’t you Sana?”
She remembers my name.
“Oh! Hi, sorry. Um, Jamie, right?”
“Mm-hm. You coming out for cross-country?”
“Oh. Uh . . .” No means I leave now and avoid risking further humiliation. Yes means possibly, possibly . . .
“You should.”
“Yes! Yes, I am.” Further humiliation and possibly, possibly it is.
“That’s Coach Kieran. Come with me and you can give him your forms.” Jamie walks me over to Coach Kieran, who’s pacing the sidewalk and muttering over a clipboard.
“Hey, Coach. This is Sana . . . what’s your last name?”
“Kiyohara.”
“Oh, right,” he says, taking my paperwork. “You signed up last week. You’re a junior, right? No running experience? Okay. You can start with the JV team, then—none of them are here yet. Have you met the captains?” He calls the other kids over: Priti and two Indian boys. “You’ve met Priti already,” says Coach, nodding at her. “This is Jagwinder, the boys’ captain—we call him Jag—and this is Arjun.” And with that, he returns his focus to his clipboard and wanders off.
Jag and Arjun are tall, lanky, and handsome. Jag leans over and shakes my hand, and asks, “Have you run cross-country before?” I shake my head. “You’re gonna love it,” he says. “Best sport ever.”
Jag looks to Arjun, who says, “Speak for yourself, bruh—I only do it so I can stay in good enough shape to run away from all the ladies when they get to be too much. They just can’t get enough of all this”—he gestures to himself—“spicy Indian hotness. It’s exhausting, know what I mean? They’re relentless.” He nods and waggles his eyebrows at Priti, Jamie, and me. “Amiright, ladies?”
Jamie rolls her eyes and shows Arjun her palm. Priti starts coughing, “Loser! Loser!” Then she adds, turning to me but really talking to the guys, “They’re delusional. Especially Arjun. Don’t listen to anything he says. Everyone knows he’s a virgin.”
“Bruhhhh!” Jag cackles, while Jamie and Priti high-five each other. Arjun just shrugs good-naturedly and assures us that he is a skilled but very discreet lover.
Other kids start showing up, and soon there are about forty of us milling around. There’s Jimmy, that guy that Elaine has a crush on. There’s Janet Lee, from my physics class, the one who buys clothes for Hanh. She’s a short, sturdy-looking girl with decidedly Asian features, except for the hazel eyes and light brown hair.
Eventually, Coach Kieran calls for our attention. “Okay, three-mile loop, everyone. Varsity, do an extra half mile out and back. Janet, you stick with Sana today and help with the route, okay? Make sure she doesn’t get lost.” Three miles? But that’s so . . . far. A knot of anxiety starts to form in my stomach.
The JV girls immediately start whining, except for Janet, who does a mini-victory dance.
“No fair!”
“Why just Janet?”
“Why can’t we all stick with Sana?”
“C’mon, Coach, we’re tired. Pleeeeease?”
Great. They all think I’m slow. The knot in my stomach tightens and my cheeks start to burn as I stare at my feet.
“Aw, shut up, JV. You’re such babies. Sana’ll probably kick your ass. Right, Sana?” It’s Jamie, and she’s smiling at me. Right at me. I don’t want to disappoint her, but I know in my bones that I’ll be lucky to get out of this alive, so I sort of half shrug, half shake my head no. Jamie folds her arms. “Don’t say no. You haven’t even tried yet.” Oh, God. And now she thinks I’m a wimp.
Coach breaks in and says, “Okay, runners, enough chitchat. Go. See you back here in thirty minutes.”
With that, the guys take off, a jumbled pack of skinny arms and legs that stretches out as they make their way through the parking lot and down the street. The varsity girls are close behind, ponytails bouncing and swinging, and then it’s our turn to head out.
My stomach still hurts and my heart is pounding as if I’ve already run a thousand miles, but now I have no choice. We’re on the move. I fall in at the back of the pack with Janet at my side. “Start off slower than you think you need to,” she advises me as we turn onto the sidewalk. “Save a little for the second half.” I nod—no need to remind me.
We run through the neighborhood to West San Carlos Avenue, the main commercial street, then past a Korean grocery store before looping back through another neighborhood. We’re past halfway, and I’m feeling pretty good about myself because we’ve left a few of the JV runners behind us.
But I also feel like my lungs are going to burst. Why am I doing this, again? Oh, right. I’m chasing the slim, slim chance that Jamie might notice me. That is, if my legs don’t collapse beneath me first. Maybe there’s another, less painful way to get to know her.
Janet asks me, “Are you okay? Do you want to walk for a bit?” I don’t even have enough oxygen to answer. I just nod my head gratefully and start walking.
“Hey!” We look up, and it’s Jamie, running toward us on her extra half mile out and back, presumably. Only we’re still a mile away from school, instead of half a mile, which means she’s run extra, extra far to reach us. And she still looks great. “I’ll take over,” she says to Janet when she reaches us. “You can run back.”
“Gee, thanks, Jamie, you’re a pal,” says Janet, but she smiles and doesn’t hesitate. “Great job, Sana! See you back at school!” She waves and takes off so fast that I feel guilty for having held her back with me.
Then Jamie turns to me and says, “Why are you walking? You can run.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“C’mon, don’t wuss out on me. You can do it,” she insists. “Just go slow. We’ll walk ten more steps, and then we’ll run all the way back to school. I’ll help you through it.” I’m not so sure anyone can help me, but I’m sure as heck not going to wuss out in front of Jamie.