Wing Jones

“If you say so,” she says, a frown creasing her face.

She blows her whistle to get our attention. “I’ve put cones on the other side of the beach. Now, I know some of you haven’t run in sand before, so don’t worry if your time is a little slower than you are used to. Ready, set, go!”

I take off, sand billowing out around my ankles. Someone comes up from behind me and passes me.

It’s Eliza. She’s faster than me. She’s a lot faster than me. I stare at the back of her head and try to force myself to go faster and I’m pushing myself and…

Vanessa passes me too.

It’s the sand, just the sand, I tell myself as I try to go faster. I’m not used to running on it. They are. That’s why. It isn’t because I’m tired. It isn’t because I’m distracted. It isn’t because I’m thinking about Aaron.

Right before I get to the finish line I trip and fall face-first into the sand. It coats my forearms and my shins like body paint and it stings.

The whistle blows and we run back to where we started. Again I fall farther and farther behind. Again I blame the sand.

It’s the sand’s fault. It isn’t because I was up all night.

The rest of the day, no matter how hard I try to win, I come in third, fourth, fifth. Coach Kerry asks if I need to sit out. “You seem distracted,” she says, and I see Eliza rolling her eyes. Aaron has been training with the boys’ team all day; I’ve barely seen him, but he’s all I’ve been thinking about.

When the sun sets again, everyone is too drained to stay up late playing games and making s’mores. We ran more today than we ever have in one day. Up and down the beach and back again. Again and again.

Before I go into my tent, I slide up next to Aaron.

“Hey,” he says, and smiles. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” I say, suddenly feeling shy, suddenly feeling nervous. “A little tired.”

“Yeah, me too. I hope you didn’t get in trouble.”

“I didn’t,” I say. And then I hope and hope and hope he’ll ask me if I want to go watch the ocean again tonight.

“Still,” he says, “you should probably sleep in your own tent tonight … just in case.”

I swallow and nod too enthusiastically. “Definitely,” I say. “I was coming over to say just that.” I stare at my feet. “So. Um. Good night?”

“Good night, Wing,” he says before leaning down to press a kiss on my cheek. On my cheek. Nowhere close to my mouth.

“This is more than a crush, isn’t it?” Eliza is already tucked into her sleeping bag.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, avoiding her wide-eyed gaze.

She sighs. “I thought you were gonna focus on training for that Riveo thing. The competition?”

I haven’t thought about it all weekend.

“I don’t even know if I’m gonna go for it,” I admit.

“Wing! You’ve got to! I think you could win! Unless you start running like you ran today,” she says, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not used to running in sand,” I say, but even I don’t believe the words.

“I think you’re not used to running when you’ve been up all night and when you’ve got a boy on your mind.” Eliza wiggles in her sleeping bag and I swat at her.

“Shhh!”

“And I didn’t like that I had to lie to Coach Kerry this morning. Do whatever you wanna do, but if you aren’t in this tent when I wake up tomorrow, I’m not gonna come find you.”

“I’ll be here,” I say, but I’m hoping that maybe I won’t be. That maybe Aaron’ll change his mind and come back to my tent tonight.

He doesn’t.

I don’t fall asleep thinking about running or even thinking about Marcus. I go to sleep thinking about Aaron. And when I wake up, he’s already on my mind.

I don’t even want to run today. All I want to do is skip to the end of the day, when we can go in the ocean, when I can be close to Aaron. I can’t stop thinking about him. About how I want more nights like the night in his tent.

The day goes even slower than I do, it feels like it drags on and on, and for the first time, I resent running. Eliza, Vanessa, or one of the other girls beats me every time. I can’t focus. I keep looking over at where the boys are running. I keep watching Aaron and remembering what his lips felt like on mine. And by the time I’ve snapped my focus from my tingling lips back to my aching feet, I’ve fallen behind again. Finally, Coach blows her whistle for the last time and training is officially over and now our time is our own.

“Wing! Come on in! The water’s great!” Aaron is already splashing around in the ocean like some kind of god of the sea, or maybe a sun god who was dropped in the sea, shining and wet and glowing. He’s beaming at me, and I swear he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

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