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Grade
12

Shadows seem a lot fuzzier in the morning. A sweet light’s coming through the hotel room window and I can’t make out any shapes on the wall. I’d like to think God made them that way, so that we can’t see anything but Him when we wake up, but maybe it’s just my eyes going bad. I look around. Pa’s not here, probably eating breakfast downstairs. I’m tired of eating hotel lobby breakfasts. We did that the whole road trip just because Pa didn’t want to buy plane tickets. I put on my track uniform, eat a protein bar and wait for him to come back. When he does, he doesn’t say anything but motions for us to leave.
We’re driving on the freeway and the trees are blending together like watercolor. I think of my mama and my heartbeat speeds up. “Pa, you’re going real fast,” I say.
“I know it reminds you of Mama, but this is California, Faith. Your Aunt Jenny said they’re crazy over here. I gotta be just like them.” He looks at me. “Your classmates are gonna be lonely without you there if we get caught up in traffic. Don’t you wanna get to practice?”
“Yessir.”
“Well, then, you’ll have to put up with my driving for some time.”
I don’t say anything and we continue down the road before reaching the school where Nationals are being held tomorrow. It’s made of tall buildings with glass windows. Pa gives me a quick hug and drops me off in front of the track center for practice. “Make sure you run fast, okay?”
“I will, Pa.”
There’s mountains behind the track field. It’s warm like home and pine trees line the edge of the center. I watch my classmates as they talk; there’s eight of us, including me. They all put their hands on their hips and seem to look older than I do, even though I know none of us are more than fifteen. They’ve got golden hair and golden skin, and they sway a little when they walk like the movie stars do. I’m the only lanky one here; I have my Mama’s legs like Granny used to tell me—long and thin, good for running and nothing more.
“Alright, girls, we have until three to practice. First off, I’m gonna time y’all for 100 meters and then 440 meters, okay?” Coach Brandy’s red hair is pulled back; she’s holding a stopwatch and her eyes are squinted at us.
“Yes, ma’am,” we reply in unison.
I like to imagine sprinting is like going to heaven for a little bit. Feels like I’m running in the sky with Granny and Mama and God. I can’t see anything but a big white space, but I’m reaching the sun so I can always tell where I’m going. And then I stop and I’m back down on the Tartan Track with everybody else. I wonder where they go when they sprint. I wonder if Pa ever goes to heaven for a minute. We run for a few more hours, taking short breaks to drink water and eat snacks and talk about nothing.
Right after practice ends, Coach Brandy walks up to me smiling. “Goodness, Faith, you’re like a bullet, my eyes couldn’t even catch up with you.” She laughs, and her eyes crinkle up. “I have a feeling you’ll place, baby.”
“I hope so, Coach.”
When I get in the car, I’m beaming. “Oh, you should’ve seen me running today. Coach Brandy said I’m like a bullet with those long legs of mine. It’s a good thing Mama was so tall.”
He sighs and takes one hand off the steering wheel.
“I was so fast I couldn’t even think! She’d be so proud if she saw me running like that.”
Pa doesn’t reply.
I continue on. “I really think I’m gonna place tomorrow, even come in first. Maybe I’ll even make it into the Olympics someday, Pa. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
He turns to face me for a moment. “I-I miss her, Faith.” His voice breaks. I don’t say anything; the car’s moving so fast it pushes the words into the back of my throat. All I can think about is how the trees in Los Angeles are skinny like in the movies. And how I want to tell Pa that even though its been four years, I miss her, too, but I just lean my head against the window and watch the cumulus clouds as they turn into a dog and then a hat and then nothing.
I wake up in the middle of the night. Pa is asleep in the hotel bed next to mine and I can hear his steady breathing. He reminds me of my mama, in that way. We all used to watch movies on the old box TV late at night, and Mama would fall asleep real fast. Her snores were so loud they woke everyone up, so Pa would rest her head on stacks of pillows to quiet the breathing. And then he would sit up to look at her small nose and her eyelids that shone with oil. He looked at Mama for what seemed like forever, as if she were going to run away from him. Kind of funny that she did. I crawl into the other bed and look at Pa. His nose is strong and wide like mine, and he has tiny creases on his eyelids. He won’t run away from me. Even if he wanted to, I don’t think he knows how. I wedge myself under my pa’s arm and fall back asleep just fine.
The morning of the race, I’m so excited my leg keeps shaking in the car. Pa doesn’t talk for a long time and I know he’s nervous. The sun’s pouring in through the clouds like sugar.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says.
“For what, Pa?”
“Nothing, just-I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” It doesn’t matter if I know exactly why he’s saying it, because I know that he misses Mama and that he probably doesn’t visit her up there often. We both sit in silence, and for the first time in a while we don’t need to say anything.
Everything moves too quickly during the race. I’m running and then I’m not. I feel God pushing my back across the track. People are cheering and someone puts a heavy medal around my neck. The golden girl who ran next to me pulls me into a sloppy hug; she’s sweaty and I can’t even feel myself moving. A lady with blonde hair takes pictures of me with my medal, and some people I’ve never seen before say congratulations before I realize what is happening. I did it; I’ve won.
The first thing I do is look for Pa. When I find him, he’s crying. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen my pa cry, so I start to cry, too. And we’re crying and I hug him and he laughs and I think, it’s just us, but we’re doing pretty fine.
Then Coach Brandy comes up to me and pulls me tight. She’s warm. “Oh, I’m so proud of you, baby! Let’s have supper together tonight to celebrate. We’ll just pick any place you like.”
“Thanks, Coach. I’ll tell my Pa about the dinner.”
“So, how are you feelin’?” Her smile is wide and bright. I know Mama’s up there watching me win, but sometimes I wish Coach Brandy was my mama.
“I don’t know.” I’m thinking about those movies with the girls who run wild horses through fields thick with barley. Wind’s blowing everywhere even though it’s a windless summer, and they’ve got smiles as big as the moon. Yeah, that’s how I feel. “Real good,” I say.
“You should, baby. The whole town’s gonna be so happy! Oh, we’ll have a huge party once you get back to school. I’ll have everybody bring you peanut butter cookies since you like ‘em so much.”
I smile. “Thank you, Coach.”
“You don’t have to thank me, this was all you. Well, I’ll go and say hi to the other coaches. I’ll see you back at the hotel lobby. Just call me.” She walks off and I stand still for a long time, surrounded by a crowd of people I’ll forget later. They shuffle like ants, moving in and out through the ground.
Everyone’s gone except for my pa and me. “Sun’s bigger in Kentucky, inn’t?” Pa’s facing the sky, or maybe he’s facing God. He holds onto my arm and squeezes his eyes shut like lemons.
We’re standing in the empty track field, basking in the heat. We’re two raisins stuck on the same branch, with the folds in Pa’s face and the shine in my skin. If we dig our feet into the Tartan Track and never go home, maybe we could become just that.