Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Two

Jimmy Springer, November 1^st, 2014

“Hello?”

“Hey, what’s up, superstar?”

“Haha, I assume that means you saw the results?”

“I’ve been sitting here refreshing the page all day, haha. I know being a state champ is probably getting old to you by now, but I wanted to call and congratulate you anyway. And, of course, I wanted the details.”

“Well, thank you! Give me one sec-I just want to get in a comfortable story telling position,” Jimmy lounged on the couch, letting his sore feet hang off the edge. He repositioned the phone carefully by his ear. “Alright you ready?”

“Hit me,” Matt’s voice replied.

“So, for starters the weather was way better than last year. So that got me pretty excited. Besides that, I was just zoned in on my race plan. Ames and I figured Zarniack would probably take it out since he likes to go out fast.”

“Yeah, didn’t he take it out in like 4:41?”

“Yep. Crazy fast. So I just sat back by Power ‘cause he typically runs a pretty reasonable pace. Then we went into the back hills and I could feel things slowing up a bit-just like last year. I was itching to go earlier but Ames really wanted me to wait until like 800 to go before I made my move.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t make it all the way to 800?”

“Well, I would have but this random dude from, like, Crestwood or something started to try and surge for the lead. And I was just like, ‘no way is this kid running a single step ahead of me’. So that’s when I dropped the hammer. A few guys tried to come with, but they paid the price at the end.”

“Did you realize how fast you were running?”

“I had no idea until I saw the clock honestly and then I lost it. I was amped, man. Running 15:11 on that course blows my mind.”

“That’s awesome, dude. Congrats. Is that the course record?”

“No, some random dude from the 70s has it. It’s like 15:02. Ames thinks mine is the real record though. Says they re-measured the course and found out it was short sometime in the 90s. No one’s come within like 20 seconds since.”

“It’s alright man. Next year.”

“Haha, yeah exactly … What’s been up with you? College still treating you well?”

“Eh, it’s alright. I still get home sick sometimes, but I’ve made some new friends from the team and classes and stuff … You ever heard of Drew Perry?”

“Sounds vaguely familiar.”

“He ran for Lower Merion. Pretty solid. Like 44^th at states last year … Well, he’s probably my best friend on the team. Such a funny kid.”

“Oh nice, that’s awesome. Are you guys gonna room together next year?”

“I haven’t asked him yet, but I hope so. He’s like kinda friends with his current roommate. But I think he would rather live with me, you know? So hopefully it works out.”

“Sweet, I wish you guys luck.”

“Thanks man.” There was a noticeable pause, the first of the conversation.

“… Well, I should probably get going. My parents and I are grabbing some dinner …”

“Yeah, of course. Do your thing. We’ll talk again soon. Are you gonna be around for Thanksgiving? That’s the next time I’ll be home”

“Yeah, as far as I know, I’ll be in UV.”

“Alright sweet, I’ll see ya then.”

“See ya then.”

Jimmy Springer, May 23^rd, 2015

Buzz … buzz …

“Hey, Coach, do you mind if I take this real fast? It’s Matt Burke.”

“Ah yes! Go for it,” Coach Ames said, switching lanes carefully. “Tell him I say ‘hey’.”

“Alright, thanks,” Jimmy said before sliding his finger across his phone screen. “Hello?”

“You son of a gun. You’re so selfish.”

“Um … why do you say that?”

“You couldn’t just leave one gold medal for somebody else. You had to take all three.”

“Haha are results already up?”

“I’m not sure. I was just following on LetsRace. It was blowing up.”

“Dude, how can you even read that garbage on there? Pretty sure those kids think I’m like 24 years old and on steroids.”

“It’s actually EPO that you are on these days. Although the age thing is pretty spot on … But seriously dude, congrats. That is so cool. Don’t forget me when you win the Olympics.”

“Haha thanks man I appreciate it … Coach says ‘hey’ by the way.”

“Oh, are you guys still driving back?”

“Yeah, we got a bit of late start and then traffic kinda sucked.”

“Ah, bummer. Well I won’t keep you then. I just wanted to check in. I should probably get back to Emily anyway. She still doesn’t completely understand ‘track nerd Matt’.”

“No worries man-how is she doing by the way?”

“She is doing well! We’re both just excited to be done the first year and have no summer assignments or anything. I’ll tell her you asked about her.”

“Sweet sounds good … when do you come back to UV?”

“I’ll be back at the start of June. We’ll have to get together and run when I get back so that you can walk me through all these races. Sounded epic.”

“For sure, dude. Sounds great. I’ll talk to you again soon then.”

“See ya, Jimmy.”

Chris Cline, September 2016

Human beings in a mob … What’s a mob to a king? … What’s a king to a god? … What’s a god to a non-believer? … Who don’t believe in … anything? … Make it out alive … All right, all right … No church in the wild …

Chris sat on the cross country locker room’s bench, untying his shoes. Leaning forward, he picked away at the laces, letting them fall across his feet. While he sat, the music washed over him as he absentmindedly pulled a change of clothes from his duffle bag.

I’m out chere’ ballin’, I know y’all hear my sneaks … Jesus was a carptenter, Yeezy laid beats … Hova flow the Holy Ghost, get the hell up out  your seats … Preach …

A few of his teammates were changing as well, but Chris chose to keep to himself. He still felt awkward talking to most of the North runners with the exception of freshmen Sam Wikler and Connor McIntyre. And seeing how Connor didn’t talk back, that left only one peer he could have a conversation with.

We formed a new religion … no sins as long as there’s permission … and deception is the only felony … to never f-

“Ouch!” Someone had pulled the headphones straight from his ears. He whirled around angrily, “Hey, what the-” But he stopped short as he looked up into the grizzly face of the head football coach.

“No headphones allowed in school buildings, Cline. You should know better,” Coach Groff said gruffly. He tossed the earbuds at Chris’s untied shoes. His former quarterback looked back, irritated. In the section of the locker room immediately across from his, he could see Jacob Naughton’s large “Beats” headphones perched over his ears.

“Now,” Coach Groff said turning away from Chris to address the group at large, “I’m going to need all of the cross country runners to move to the hallway.”

“You’re kidding, right?” One of Chris’s new teammates, Andy Eggleston, said, eyebrows raised. He stood in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

Coach Groff looked back at him darkly. “The football team needs this space today. We’ve already cleared it with the AD. Your coach should have told you about this hours ago, honestly. Would have saved you some trouble.” With some grumbling the runners started to throw their essential materials into bags. Chris, however, stayed put, his shoes still untied.

“I’m sorry, Cline, are your ears as broken as your hand?” Coach Groff said sarcastically. “Let’s get on a move on.”

“Why do you need the space?” He said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

“Well, that’s certainly none of your business.”

“Well, seeing as this is our locker room, I think it’s at least some of my business.” Chris said, unable to completely hide his attitude. A couple sophomores scurried quickly for the hallway, but the few remaining upperclassmen were now slowing their packing, hoping to catch more of this budding argument.

“What did you just say to me, Cline?” Coach Groff said in a quiet, angry voice. He moved his face closer to Chris’s. The room had become quiet and tense. But Chris stared back defiant and unintimidated.

“Soccer is at an away game, can’t you just use theirs?”

“Cline-” Coach Groff tried to cut across him, his voice beginning to regain some of its earlier vigor.

“I just don’t get why it’s our team that has to-”

Coach Groff let out a harsh, booming laugh that sent shivers down Chris’s spine. “Our team is it?” Coach Groff said with an evil grin. “Funny, Cline, I used to think our team was my team. Are you a cross country runner now?”

“Well …” Chris said, a bit less fight in his voice now, “I just want-

“Well, if you want to be playing anything this year, I suggGEST YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS LOCKER ROOM!” Coach Groff shouted. Begrudgingly, Chris accepted the loss rather than risk any further damage. Fuming, he tossed his clothes in his bag and stormed form the locker room. “AND THAT GOES FOR ALL OF YOU!”

Chris’s teammates hurried along behind him, Andy still only in his boxers.

The West Chester North Cross Country team changed in the bathroom that afternoon but otherwise continued practice as usual, setting out on a standard distance run through the neighborhoods. The squad had a league meet scheduled the next day, so Coach Finley instructed them to keep the pace controlled. This request, combined with Chris’s own consistently increasing fitness, meant he would be running with the largest group of training partners since his disastrous first run.

Leading the way within his pack were juniors Andy Eggleston and Matt Schmidt. Following their example was a trio of sophomores in Caleb Collins, Alex Robinson and Nick Meyers. Then a trailing group of four: Chris, comfortably jogging in the middle of the team’s three freshmen. The remainder of the team fragmented into two factions. A unit of varsity runners hastily trekked off on a farther, faster loop while the outstanding members of the JV team had splintered down a side street Chris had yet to traverse.

His pack started out quiet, but eventually they began to discuss what Chris had been waiting for.

“So what do you think it was this time?” Matt said, looking across at his friend, “Are they worried we have a spy on our team that’s going to sell their secrets to Downingtown West?”

“You know it’s always something,” Andy remarked in frustration, “We get kicked out of the weight room. We get kicked off the track. And when we try to fight back? We get our ass kicked.” He aggressively spit on the side of the road. A couple of the sophomores gave not so covert looks over their shoulder at Chris, trying to gauge his reaction. Feeling awkward, he just smiled back at them.

“Why doesn’t Coach do anything about this crap?” Alex Robinson asked, moving up to Andy’s shoulder.

“Because Groff has the Athletic Director’s social security number or something,” Matt replied bitterly.

“You’re not kidding,” Andy piled on, “You know how much money the football team has been pulling in recently? Remember how crowded that game was on Friday night? They’re ‘Wolf of Wall Street’-ing hard core right now. No way they’re gonna do anything to rock the boat. Especially if they only have to ‘inconvenience’ the cross country team.” He finished with disgust.

Sam looked at Chris nervously. The former football standout looked back at the freshman and flashed a halfhearted smile. Some actions, especially those of his coach, he knew he would not be able to defend. But he also didn’t like the idea of his sport being berated by his new teammates. After a few seconds of silence, he decided it was time to speak up. He coughed softly, apprehensively clearing his throat.

Before he could voice his opinion, Andy spoke up again. “But that’s all about to change,” he said dramatically. “We’ve got one of them on our side now. Isn’t that right, Chris?” He looked back over his shoulder and gave the quarterback a toothy grin. The other runners turned to watch him as well. They stared at him attentively, as if they had wanted to study him like this since his initial arrival but had not been permitted to until the moment he was first addressed directly.

“Uh … yeah,” Chris said softly. “I guess so.”

“Wait, what happened?” Matt asked enthusiastically.

“Well, Chris and I were in the locker room with Alex, Nick and some of the other guys,” Andy said, reveling in the opportunity to be a storyteller, “And Coach Groff comes flying in like a mad man, trying to kick us out for whatever reason.”

“Roid rage.”

“Meanwhile, Chris just sits there, stone faced and is just like ‘Eff you Groff, why the hell should we listen to you?’” He waved his arms dramatically. “Honestly, I thought they were going to get in a fight. And so I’m just standing there in my sailor boxers with my mouth wide open trying to decide what to do if they roll towards me mid-kerfuffle.”

Chris laughed lightly with the rest of the team, his previous tension slowly dissipating. “Then what happened?” Matt asked, sounding like a small child excited by his bed time story.

“Well, then Coach Groff screamed a lot and I ran out of there like a scared little girl.”

“Did you at least put on pants first?”

“Certainly not.” Everyone laughed again, particularly those who were not there to witness the scene in person. “But it’s OK, I got a date with Ms. O’Connor out of it.”

“Andy, I’m pretty sure that was a detention.” Alex said as the group roared further into glee, “And those are with Vice Principal Hield.”

“Well, you just hate to see that.”

Jimmy Springer, October 3^rd, 2015

“Hello?”

“Hey Matt, how’s it going?”

“Hey Jimmy, what’s up? Everything OK?”

“Yeah … I’m good, just figured I’d call to catch up. You got some time?”

“For you? Of course I do! Just give me a sec,” There was a brief pause where Jimmy could hear Matt walking through what sounded like a crowded room. “OK, I’m good. How you been?”

“Sorry, am I interrupting something or-”

“Nah dude, we are just having a little party at our place. It’s no big.”

“I mean I can call back-”

“Jimmy, it’s cool. I promise. So tell me how you’ve been? How’s school and running and everything? I saw you won at Carlisle. That was pretty solid.”

“Nah it sucked. I had no pop in my legs. Thomas doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.”

“He still being a prick?”

“The prickiest. Like, basically, everybody on our team has quit or gotten hurt. We aren’t even gonna have five guys available to run at leagues. Not that it would matter, Thomas can’t coach at all. He’s probably never run a step in his life.”

“Did you ever find out why they made him the Coach?”

“Yeah, I did.” Jimmy’s tone changed from melancholy and downtrodden to bitter and vengeful. Mark couldn’t decide which concerned him more. “Apparently, at Union Valley you get a bonus or something if you have a high performing team. And since Thomas had an in with the AD, he wiggled his way into this spot so he could pick up that extra money. He saw me as his big pay day.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. And he’s like running me into the effing ground to try and make sure I win everything. Like a lot of lifting and stupid stuff. And just absurd workouts that don’t make any sense. I’m stunned I haven’t gotten injured.”

“You should tell someone dude. Somebody who can fix this.”

“Like who? I told you, he’s got the AD in his damn pocket-”

“Other people can do something. I’m sure if you told your parents-”

“I’m not telling them.” He said it with such conviction that Matt didn’t press it further. “Look, I should let you get back to your party.”

“Jimmy, I told you already it’s not a big-”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

Jimmy Springer, November 3^rd, 2015

“Hello?”

“Hey, congrats champ! Three in a row! That’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s not so bad. Wanted to run a little faster though.”

“Well not every race can be a PR, you know? Especially when you’re injured. Is it true you have a stress fracture?”

“Stress reaction the doctor said. I’ll be missing all of indoors.”

“Shoot. That sucks man.”

“Eh, it’s not that big of a deal. I was planning to take indoors off anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just need the time away from running. This year really burned me out, you know? I want to take a step back and look at my goals. I’ve been running so long … sometimes it’s hard to remember why I started.”

“Well at least it will give you some time away from Coach Thomas.”

“Oh, shoot I didn’t tell you, did I?!” He sounded excited for the first time in the conversation.

“No, what happened?!”

“UV fired his ass.”

“That makes me so happy. Why did they finally decide to do it?”

“I talked to my mom about the training and stuff,” Jimmy had a small layer of discomfort in his voice, “and she was not happy about what she heard.”

“Yeah, I bet. The guy is such an idiot. Glad you finally got rid of him.” It was a testament to their friendship that Matt ignored the fact that Jimmy had refused this exact advice a month earlier. “Who are they gonna get for track?”

“No clue. Apparently they got rid of that bonus rule thing I told you about considering how sketchy it was … So they’ll probably have a smaller applicant pool this time around.” The bitterness had returned to his tone.

“Well maybe that means you’ll get the right kind of Coach this time around.”

“We’ll see,” Jimmy replied skeptically. “But enough about me, how are you doing? Is your season done yet?”

“Nah, I got regionals coming up next weekend.”

“What’s regionals?”

“It’s most similar to districts I guess? Regionals is our NCAA qualifiers. It’s actually my first time qualifying for this meet so I’m pretty amped.”

“Yeah, that’s awesome man! Do you have a good team? Like any shot at nationals?”

“Nah, no shot at Nationals or anything like that. We are just going out looking for top 10. That would be a big day for us.”

“Sounds good, I’ll be on the lookout for any results that come from that … where do I go for NCAA results anyway?”

“Just go to tfrrs.”

“… I’m sorry was that English?”

“Haha it’s spelled T-F-R-R-S. It’s like track and field results something something.”

“So wouldn’t that be tfrss?”

“Clever, Springer. You’ve gotten wiser in your old age. How old are you now anyway?”

“16, but I’ll be 17 in a couple weeks.”

“You’ve gotta be looking at college stuff now then.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten a bunch of letters and recruitment crap. Haven’t really sorted through it yet … I’ve still got time.”

“Wow, I’m surprised you’re waiting. I feel like it would be so exciting to have everyone coming after me like that. I got a couple letters after I medaled at states and I was super jacked up about it. I was, like, bragging to random people on the street and stuff. For you I figured it would be my letters times a thousand so who knows what I would have been doing to random people on the street if I was in your shoes.”

“I won’t tell Emily you said that.”

“Haha I appreciate that. You two still need to officially meet, right?”

“Yeah, still haven’t met her yet. You have to bring her back to UV and stop going up to Boston.”

“I do. I want her to see the town and everything. Maybe over the summer. Depends on if I get this internship or not.”

“Internship?”

“Yeah, it’s just some finance thing up in Boston. Emily’s dad put my name in for it, but I doubt I’ll get it. It’s like super competitive. But if I do, it will be huge for my long term job prospects.”

“Gosh, now you sound old.”

“Haha stay young, Jimmy. Stay young as long as you can. Life is a lot different when you get old.”

Chris Cline, September 2016

“Alright, so-it’s kind of like golf?”

“Probably the only similarity we have with golf. But yes.”

“OK, so the race ends. You add up the places of the top seven guys-”

“Top five guys.”

“Then-wait-what was the significance of the top seven?”

“The top seven guys can displace. But only the top five can score.”

“Displace. Right. I think I’ve got it. I just need you to tell me everything again from the beginning. But slower.”

Chris and Sam walked along the perimeter of the park along the tree line. The freshman was holding a brown clipboard on which he had created a row of names in a 16 by 3 grid. The senior wore a stop watch around his neck that bounced gently on his chest as he walked. The duo was in charge of collecting the splits of their West Chester North teammates as they ran past the one-mile, two-mile and finish line.

Today was the first Cross Country meet that Chris had ever attended and, based on the heightened energy around the team, it was a significant one. West Chester North was facing off against Great Valley, one of the best teams in the league. Chris didn’t think much of their football program, but apparently they had a strong history of producing talented distance runners. The previous season, Great Valley had nipped North by a single point to grab the final qualifying spot from their district for the Pennsylvania State Championships. This race would be about revenge.

Despite the importance of the competition, Coach Finley had elected to rest four of his runners; not only Sam and Chris, but also juniors Andy Eggleston and Matt Schmidt. Instead of racing, the quartet of runners had done a short run and some short, 200-meter intervals on the track to help refine their speed. Andy was quite quick and led the repetitions, but Chris had been able to stay with him for each one. On their final sprint, they put nearly five seconds on Matt and Sam.

The remaining West Chester North boys were gathered close to the start line, completing their final pre-race strides. They were dressed in white singlets that prominently featured a maroon “N” in the center of the jersey. Clustered in the space alongside them were their opponents from Great Valley. They sported dark blue jerseys that said “Patriots” across the chest in bold black lettering.

As Chris watched the teams prepare, a particularly tall and lanky looking runner from the enemy camp caught his eye. His stride was effortless, yet he covered ground quickly, gliding ahead of his teammates with tremendous ease.

“Who is that?” Chris asked, pointing at the runner as the gangly figure turned and called for his teammates to huddle around him at the center of the field.

“The tall guy?” Sam squinted out across the grass. “No clue. We haven’t raced these guys yet this year.”

“He looks pretty fast.”

“That’s ‘cause he is.” Andy and Matt emerged from behind them. They had been helping Coach Finley properly line and cone the course within the park’s trees. “That’s Greg Zeimek. Kid split 1:53 last year at Ches-monts.”  Although Chris didn’t understand what those numbers implied, he could tell from Andy’s tone that it was impressive. He could also tell that Andy clearly disliked him.

“I hate that guy.” And apparently Matt felt the same way. “Look at him, just prancing around, like, ‘Oh I’m king of the castle, let all of my knights bow at my round table.’ Well this is America, sir, and we don’t believe in castles here.”

“I probably would have went with ‘we don’t believe in kings here’.”

“That’s why you’ll never be as funny as me, Andy.”

A man in an orange official’s shirt trekked out to the middle of the starting area and corralled the runners back toward the starting line to prepare everyone for the start of the race. From all sides of the stripe, the competitors filed into position. They alternated every other jersey; first Zeimek for Great Valley, then Captain Will Aldrich for North, another Great Valley runner, and so on. Ten runners made up the first row, then the others were free to fill in wherever they saw fit.

Once everyone was in position, the official paced out some forty yards from the group. He then pulled out what appeared to be a gun and began fidgeting with it at his side.

“Does that guy have a gun?” Chris said, slightly concerned. He looked around at his teammates hoping for some type of illumination. The official now raised the pistol straight above his head and called for the runners to get set. 

“Dude, get the stop watch ready!” Andy exclaimed, tapping Chris vigorously on the back with his left hand before raising it back to an anticipatory position over his right wrist. Now thoroughly confused, Chris picked up the watch hanging from his neck. The official fired the gun into the air and the runners took off. Around him, three watches beeped. Catching on a moment later, Chris clicked his own start button and watched as the seconds began to tick across the screen.

On the grass ahead, the runners jockeyed for position as the course began to narrow. Will positioned himself at the front with Zeimek right on his hip. A pair of Great Valley runners were in second and third, but a massive pack of Warriors had settled in on their heels.

“C’mon,” Sam called tugging at Chris’s shirt. Andy and Matt had skirted away through the trees. “We have to get to the mile mark to get the splits.” Together they followed the path their teammates had carved out before them, weaving through plants and tree roots. Sam ducked carefully under a branch that flung back and smacked Chris in the face. He tasted pine needles briefly in his mouth.

Eventually, they reached the clearing and wandered over to join the pair of juniors positioned at a spray painted white line on the trail. A bold, white number one was painted just beneath it. Just up the trail stood a brown haired girl with glasses and a clipboard accompanied by a slightly taller, older looking man. He held a stop watch like Chris and was examining it closely. Both strangers wore blue shirts that had “Great Valley” printed on the front.

“They should be here in another minute or so,” the taller man said quietly to the girl beside him. “I’ll just read off times from my watch and you can write them down for each guy.” Chris noticed this was the exact same task Coach Finley had given to him and Sam. I guess getting these ‘splits’ is kinda important …

After a moment’s waiting, the first competitors came into view. Will Aldrich of West Chester North was still controlling the race from the front. He looked relaxed and poised as he passed the duo. Chris read from his watch aloud, “5 minutes, 5:01, 5:02 …” Great Valley’s top runner was just behind and then a small gap. After a brief pause, the contingent of North supporters erupted into cheers as a pack of six Warriors came into view. They were joined by just one Great Valley Patriot, although two more came past three to four seconds later. “5:16 … 5:17 … 5:18 …”

In total some thirty runners came past them. Chris was impressed by the times he was reading from his watch as they passed. “6:10 … 6:11 … 6:12 …” Even the slowest members of the group came through faster than seven minutes for the first mile. “6:28 … 6:29 … 6:30 …”

In gym class, Chris remembered running 6 minutes and 30 seconds for the school’s fitness testing program. It had taken a fair amount of stamina and he certainly couldn’t imagine maintaining that pace for three miles. But that was before I started training, he thought to himself. You can do this; you just need to stay confident.

Eventually, once all of the North runners had passed, Chris followed his teammates to the two-mile marker. Fortunately, this spot was close to their current position and required little navigating through bushes and trees. They arrived with five or so minutes to spare. Andy and Matt stood a few feet away, discussing something quietly, while Chris and Sam chatted about the race.

“Looks like the guys are running pretty well,” Sam said, looking down the splits on his clipboard. “I think our course is pretty quick.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem too hilly. Footing isn’t bad.” He looked down at his feet and tapped the ground as if to confirm it. “Wish we got to test it out. Any idea why Coach decided not to race us?”

“I’m not sure. He probably wants to keep us fresh. Coach is always stressing to us how long the season is.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I just feel like he keeps babying me, you know? Like I get that I’m not going to be good right away or anything, but I want to at least get out there and try. Prove I’m up for the challenge.” He thought back to the mile splits he had called out a few minutes earlier. Prove I belong.

“Alright, Chris,” Matt said piping in for the first time, “Since you asked, I’ve got a challenge for you.”

“Go for it,” Chris said, slightly apprehensively. Although he had not been a member of the team very long, he had quickly deduced that Matt and Andy were two of the more fun loving harriers on the roster. They enjoyed a good joke and weren’t afraid to put themselves out there or risk looking silly.

“You’ve been here-what-a week?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“I challenge you to give me the names of every one of our runners when they come by. And if you can’t,” he looked sideways at Andy who smiled and gave a small nod, “then you have to introduce us to the cheerleading squad.”

“And like a good intro too. Maybe call us your best friends or the top two runners on the team or something.” Andy added.

“Feel free to get creative.”

“And what do you have to do if I win?” Chris asked with a small grin.

“Fair question. You’re not going to win. But certainly a fair question.” Matt stroked his chin in thought for a moment. “What is it that you would want us to do?”

“I don’t know …” Chris said, looking around the wooded trail. He spotted the girl with the clipboard approaching in the distance. “You could try and get that girl’s number?” He said, pointing covertly.

“Get a girl’s number? What are we in fifth grade? C’mon Chris, I expected more from you.”

“Besides, he already struck out with her a few weeks ago.” Andy muttered barely audible under his breath. Matt elbowed him in the chest as Sam snickered.

“Alright …” Chris said amused and now feeling invested. “How about … if I win, you guys have to hitch hike back to school today after the meet … with a complete stranger.”

This new punishment seemed to get the pair’s attention. Matt leaned in close to Andy and discussed the terms in a whisper. After brief deliberation, Matt stuck out his hand for Chris to shake. “We accept your proposal. But just to clarify, we’ll need first and last name. Every runner.”

“No helping, Sam.” Andy added.

“Ok.” The two parties smiled at one another. “Deal.” Chris shook with Matt and then Andy. Small cheers from up ahead signaled the runners were nearing the two-mile mark. Breaking into view was North’s first runner who had opened up almost a five second lead on his top pursuer. “Alright … this is Will. Will Aldrich. He’s in my year.” Will approached, looking strong and powerful.

“Don’t forget the splits!” Sam exclaimed as he realized Chris’s distraction.

“Right, um,” he fumbled quickly with the stop watch around his neck.

“10:17 … 10:18 … 10:19 …” Andy called from behind him as Will passed through. Then he turned to Chris and patted him on the back. “I’ll take care of the splits. You just get us those names.” Chris nodded appreciatively and turned his attention back up the trail, looking for the next white singlet. After Great Valley’s top runner (a slightly tired looking Greg Zeimek) passed, Cline noticed a red headed boy in the distance.  Then, maybe a three second gap. Behind him was a taller runner, just over six feet, with long brown hair and matching stubble. He was accompanied by a short, muscular runner with darker hair. Then, a Great Valley runner, who was just off his shoulder, trying desperately to hang on.

“OK so the red head-that’s Brandon McGee … And then the taller one is Lowry. Jack Lowry. And the shorter one that’s … um …” Chris paused for a second, waiting until he could get a closer look.

“10:38 … 10:42 … 10:44 …”

“C’mon Jack! C’mon Travis!” Matt cheered just behind him.

“Dude what are you doing?” Andy said angrily. “Don’t give away any answers!”

“Sorry dude,” Matt said embarrassed, “I forgot. Just got caught up trying to support our guys.” He turned to Chris. “Alright, so we gave you the first name for free. What’s Travis’s last name?”

Chris looked at him skeptically. “The shorter one is Austin Lynch.” He said, the name finally coming back to him. “There’s nobody on our team named Travis …”

Matt shrugged his shoulders. “What? Did you think we weren’t gonna at least try and mess you up?”

One by one the runners filed by, some struggling to keep their pace, others powering past quickly. “That’s Mike Rykken, the shorter one with the chin hair. And then that’s Ricky Collins. He and Will are the two captains. Ricky’s pretty smart if I remember correctly, isn’t he going to Dartmouth or something?”

“Chris, there’s no bonus points for mother’s maiden name,” Andy said jokingly, “We just need first and last.”

“You getting nervous?” Chris replied playfully. He continued to name the runners as they passed. “Kenny Brown … Caleb Collins … Luke Wall …” Until the last runners came through the marker, “Nick Meyers … Thomas Partridge …That’s everybody right?” Chris said as he turned to run back towards the finish line for the race’s conclusion. “So I win?”

“Not quite, yet,” Andy replied. “Sam, can you jog by real quick?”

“Um … ok,” Sam said hesitantly and he jogged along the path his teammates had just passed through.

“Alright, Chris-first and last name?” Matt asked.

“You guys are kidding, right?” he responded with a laugh. “He’s the only kid on the team I actually talk to! Sa-”

“-Wait-” the freshman tried to interject, but it was too late.

“-m Wikler.” Chris finished, now looking at his friend confused. “What’s wrong?” He asked as Matt and Andy grinned mischievously.

“Sam’s my middle name,” he said, crestfallen. Chris’s smile disappeared. “My first name is … Wendell.”

“Wendell Wikler?”

“You can see why he doesn’t use it,” Andy said, walking over and putting his hand on Chris’s shoulder. “My associate will be in touch with my updated calendar.” Matt scribbled his phone number on the clipboard that Sam was holding.

“Call me,” he said, putting a hand on Chris’s shoulder just as Andy had. Then they ran off together toward the finish line, rushing to try and make it back in time to see the finish. Chris and Sam followed briskly in their wake.

“Sorry, Chris,” Sam said as they jogged, taking a shortcut through some trees.

“No need to apologize to me,” he said, avoiding a few low hanging branches, “The cheerleaders on the other hand? You may need to apologize to them.”

The foursome emerged into the field near the finish line just in time to watch the first runners come sprinting off the final turn. Will Aldrich for West Chester North was in the lead, but Great Valley’s Greg Zeimek was rallying right alongside him. Then, with about fifty meters to go, Zeimek found one extra gear and sprinted clear of Aldrich to cross the line first.

“Shoot,” Andy muttered angrily, “I hate that kid.”

“I thought Will would be able to take him,” Matt said, surprised, “He never gets outkicked like that.”

“Well with Greg just sitting on him all race, what else was gonna happen?” His bitter tone turned quickly as a pair of North runners came flying into view. “Yeah, boys! Let’s go Brandon! Let’s go Jack!” The two Warriors were well clear of the closest Patriot pursuer and crossed the line comfortably in 3^rd and 4^th place.

“And there’s Austin and Ricky!” Matt shouted. Just behind the second Patriot were two more Warriors, sprinting furiously toward the finish line. “So that’s 2^nd, 3^rd, 4^th, 6^th and 7^th. Who is good at math?”

“22 points,” Andy replied quickly, “Doesn’t matter how the rest of this one plays out, we’ve clinched the win.” He and Matt high-fived. “Great Valley? More like … Slightly Above Average Valley!”

“Got ‘em!” They high-fived again as Sam and Chris laughed. With the victory safely in hand, they turned back to the course to cheer for the rest of their teammates. Despite the fact that the meet was already decided, Sam, Andy and Matt cheered just as enthusiastically as they had for the scoring members of the team. In fact, they actually seemed to be more excited by the results of the junior varsity runners. For Chris, this was a pleasant surprise. Apparently, a cross country team’s benchwarmers were just as loved and respected as their stars. Slowly, he let himself become engulfed by the fervor.

By the time, freshman Connor McIntyre came into view, battling stride for stride with an enemy from Great Valley, Chris was screaming himself hoarse. He waved his arm wildly as the freshman sprinted ahead, agony streaked across his face. “Dig, Connor! Dig! Gooo!”

As he crossed the line, Andy split his watch. “18:52!”

“Is that good?” Chris asked hopefully.

“That’s like a 30 second PR for him!” Sam said gleefully.

“So …” Chris looked around, still confused, this time by the term “PR”.

“PR means Personal Record. So that means he ran the best race of his life by 30 seconds!”

“And … 30 seconds is a lot, right?”

“It’s probably worth like 50 yards passing.”

“Now we’re talking,” Chris said with a smile. And he jogged over to visit the freshman, who was standing with his hands on his knees. “Awesome run!” He said slapping the youngster on the back. Connor looked up at him and beamed appreciatively. “That was really cool the way you just sprinted-or, uh, kicked-him down at the end. I thought he might get you back but you really-oh my gosh!” To his surprise, Connor had leaned over and started vomiting across the grass.

“Let it all out, kid,” Matt said, having arrived to join in the congratulations.

“Should I go get someone? A nurse maybe?” Chris looked down at Connor with concern.

“No, you should go get Rosenwasser.”

“Why? Are his parents’ doctors or something?”

“No, because we should show him what it looks like when you race with some guts.” Matt looked proudly at Connor who was now wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smile back on his face. “Now that’s how you run a 5k.”

Chris turned his apprehensive gaze toward Matt. Seriously, what is this sport?

Jimmy Springer, April 20^th, 2016

“Hey … it’s Jimmy. Looks like we are playing phone tag … Didn’t get into Penn Relays … Apparently Coach never submitted the proper forms. But I’m still going down to watch. Should be a pretty awesome event … I’ll have to give you the details next time we talk. No need to call back tonight or anything. I’m sure we’ll talk soon.”

Jimmy Springer, May 19^th, 2016

“Hey, dude. Figured I might be able to catch you before you left for the meet, but I guess not … I’m actually here in Union Valley for the weekend before starting this internship up in Boston. Emily’s here with me! Hopefully you get this in time so we can all meet up for lunch or something … Best of luck at states by the way. I’m sure you’re gonna kill it like always.”

Jimmy Springer, August 13^th, 2016

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey dude, I’m swinging by my house to pick up stuff for school. You gonna be around tonight?”

“Nah, not tonight. I got plans with some of the guys.”

“Ah, shoot. I’m supposed to leave tomorrow morning to get back for pre-season week. What are you and the guys doing?”

“Smith is having a house party. You want to come?”

“Wait, Smith? As in Corey Smith? Eric’s brother?”

“Yeah,”

“That kid’s bad news, Jimmy. I’m not sure a kid like you wants to get mixed up with a kid like him.”

“Hey, man, that’s my friend. You don’t see me talking crap on Drew Perry or someone.”

“Right … Sorry. I was just-well, nevermind it’s not any of my business. Would you maybe want to run tomorrow with me before I leave?”

“I don’t think that’s gonna work either. I’m probably gonna get pretty messed up tonight.”

“Too messed up to run the next day? Isn’t that like-”

“Shit, bro! What are you my dad? Did you ride your effing high horse down from Boston?”

“I’m sorry, man. I just thought maybe we could catch up. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah? Well whose fault is that? So suddenly you’re back in town and I’m supposed to just drop everything for you? Because you’re so damn important that you can barely fit me into your loaded itinerary.”

“C’mon man that’s not fair. I’ve had a lot going on with work and Emily and … you’ll see when you get to college. Lots of things change really quickly. I’m just trying my best to balance everything.”

“Well, I’ll give you one less thing to balance-”

“Jimmy-!”

“Good bye, Matt.”

GO TO CHAPTER TWENTY THREE