Chapter Twenty Five
Chris Cline, September 2016
“Alright,
boys. Let me quickly remind you our bus leaves at 7 tomorrow morning. Top 12
guys will be racing, but we’ve got a bus big enough to transport everyone. So
I’d encourage anyone who wants to cheer us on at Cedar Crest to tag along.
“Unfortunately,
despite consistent lobbying from the coaches, the meet staff has decided to
keep in place their rule excluding seniors from participating in the Junior
Varsity race. So that means if you are a senior and you're not top 7, you won’t
be able to race this weekend.
“So
our lineup this week will be as follows:
“Varsity:
Aldrich, McGee, Lowery, Lynch, Ricky Collins, Eggleston and Schmidt. Junior
Varsity: Caleb Collins, Rykken, Robinson, Wikler, and Wall.”
Coach
Finley paused here to look around at his athletes and make sure each understood
their inclusion. The West Chester North Cross Country team sat scattered among
the desks in the Coach’s classroom before the day’s practice was to begin. After
the meeting, half the team would set out on an easy run in preparation for the
next day’s invitational at Cedar Crest. The other half, including Chris, would
be doing a difficult workout as a substituted hard effort in place of the race.
“Lots
of good teams will be there this weekend so it's a great chance to match up
with some state caliber programs. Mannheim Township, Cedar Crest, Mount
Lebanon, North Allegheny. They are from out of the area. The team’s we will
need to focus on from our own district are DT West, Hatboro Horsham and
Coatesville.”
There
was a general murmur of excitement at the mention of Coatesville.
“Don’t
go and yourselves all worked up!” Chris Finley said, waving his arms as if he
was trying to push a fly out of his face. “Ricky, keep everybody in your group
under control today, OK?”
“I’ll
try my best, Coach. No guarantees with McGee.” Team Captain Ricky Collins said
from the front row. A few of his teammates snickered. Two seats over a boy with
short red hair raised his arms looking marginally offended. “How far?”
“Five miles and a good stretch. Ice if you
need it. Those not racing, you can start up your warm up now. Kenny and Ben,
lead them through two miles and the usual drills. I’ll meet you over at the
cross country course start line. Be ready to run fast.” He stood up from behind
his desk at the front of the classroom. “Go ahead and get going,” he said
waving them out the door, “And send in the girls on your way out.”
Ben Havleck,
June 2016
There was a light whoosh from a passing
car. A sprinkler ticked slowly. He wiped his nose with his right hand. His
tempo slowed for a moment as he peered back over his shoulder to ensure his
path was clear before crossing the street. Embracing the entropy, he floated
through a small downhill and jogged onto the wooded trail. It crunched under
his feet to signal his arrival. A bird floated up into the air defensively as
the newcomer approached.
He could feel his shirt getting heavier as
sweat continued to accumulate over his body. He fidgeted with it in annoyance
before, ultimately, deciding to remove it entirely. Without breaking stride, he
spun the shirt in his hands and then tied it around his head like a makeshift
bandana. He inwardly lamented the fact that it didn't fit as nicely as it had
in the past without his longer hair.
After an hour, he reached the light post
that stood a few yards from his house and slowed to a walk, reaching down for
his wrist and tapping his watch. With his hands behind his head, he meandered
forward, letting his breathing gradually adjust to its normal cadence. Then, he
cut across the lawn toward his house.
“How was it?” Mr. Havleck asked as Ben
opened the door and stepped inside.
“Not too bad, it's starting to get pretty
hot,” he grabbed a worn towel from the hall closet and wrapped it around his
waist. “I'm gonna have to get up early tomorrow and go when it's cooler.”
“Tomorrow?” Mrs. Havleck said, entering the
living room from the kitchen. “You're going to run again tomorrow?”
“I run every day, Mom,” he said with a
smile. “Do I have time to hop in the shower before dinner? I feel gross.”
“Yes, I think it's going to need another
ten minutes or so. We'll wait for you.”
“Thanks,” he gave her a small peck on the
cheek and then dashed upstairs to the bathroom.
About twenty minutes later, he came back
down the stairs, rubbing a towel fiercely through his hair.
“I'm not sure you need to do that anymore,
Ben,” his father said watching him in amusement.
“Force of habit,” he replied, running his
hand through his buzzed hair. “It still feels really weird.”
“Well you look very handsome. It makes you
look more like your father.” Mrs. Havleck said, briefly passing through on her
way towards the back room. “Cayley, dinner's ready!”
“Maybe one hundred pounds ago,” Mr. Havleck
replied. He took his seat at the table and Ben followed, eyeing the food
hungrily.
“Wow Ben, your new hair cut makes you look
like a super model!” Cayley said, stepping into the kitchen holding her
mother's hand.
“Haha thanks Cay,” he replied, taking his
plate and dropping on some salad.
“Aren't you going to compliment me on my
dress?” She asked, sitting up on her chair.
“It makes you look like a princess!” He
said smiling, now focusing his attention on the breaded macaroni and cheese.
“Predictable,” she said flatly, making the
family laugh.
“Cayley, I'm going to miss you while I'm
gone,” Ben said, pouring himself a glass of juice. With his meal set, he began
to attack his plate, clearing away food like a garbage disposal.
“Speaking of which,” his mother said,
placing a full plate in front of Cayley, “did you tell your friend at Barnes
and Noble you won't be able to do your usual hours there this summer?”
“Yeah I 'old 'im 'esderday,”
“Ben, c'mon honey, no talking with your
mouth full.”
“'Orry ma,” he said before pausing to chew
and swallow. “I told Neal yesterday after work so that’s all taken care of.”
“And have you packed all your things?” She
asked her question just as Ben took a rather large mouth full of noodles. He
opened his mouth to respond, but, seeing his mother’s expression, closed it
again.
“Yep, packing is done.” He said once he had
finished, “Only thing I have to do is give Nicole her SAT book back and then-”
“Wait-Nicole? Who’s Nicole?”
“She's the girl I studied with a couple
times for Calc, remember? At the end of last quarter? I definitely told you
about her.”
“It’s his girlfriend,” Cayley said
matter-of-factly to the amusement of his parents.
“No!” Ben replied, a little too
defensively, “We’re just friends.”
Cayley shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I call
‘em like I see ‘em.”
After dinner, he jogged upstairs to grab
the book and double check that everything important was packed away for the
next day’s departure. From his night stand, he picked up his training log and
stuffed it into the front pocket of his backpack. Then, he carefully folded up
the paper his coach had given him with his summer training plan and tucked it
away in between a pair of running shorts. With one last turn around the room,
he stepped out only to realize he had forgotten the book for which he had come
in the first place. Returning, he took it down off his book shelf.
“Mom, can I borrow the car? I gotta run
this back,” he said, stepping down the stairs with the text under his arm.
“No problem. Keys are in the basket by the
door,” she said with her back to him, washing a dish in the sink. “Are you
going to be out late?”
“Nah, I don't think so. Since I'm waking up
early to run, I'll need to get extra sleep tonight. Got to make sure I'm
recovering properly.”
“You’re like a professional athlete. I
would never have that kind of discipline.”
“You can't spell victory without
sacrifice.” He said simply before grabbing the keys out of the basket. “I'll
see you guys in a few!”
“Drive safe! Love you!”
“Love you too!”
“Mommy, how do you spell victory?”
Chris Cline, cont.
“Hey
Chris, are you coming tonight?”
“Uh,
coming where?”
“To
Florentino’s.”
“Who’s
that? Does somebody else have a secret first name I should know about?”
“No,”
Sam responded smiling slightly, “It’s the pizza place. Florentino’s. It’s right
by the Sunoco on County Road and-”
“Oh
yeah, I know that place. What’s going on there?”
“We
always go there for dinner the night before our cross country meets. It’s like
our team tradition.”
“Ah,
gotcha.”
Sam
watched him for a moment, but Chris did not elaborate. “So are you coming?”
“I
don’t know, it kinda feels like I wasn’t invited ...”
“Of
course you’re invited! You’re on the team! It’s implied, even if no one
directly asks you.”
Chris
stared at him, eyebrows slightly raised. The two stood just outside the gym.
Chris leaned casually against the wall, his bag at his feet. Sam bounced
slightly on his toes as he attempted to be persuasive.
Practice
had ended. Chris had completed a difficult workout with some of his junior
varsity teammates. They ran eight times through a small section of their home
cross country course, mainly flat but with a brief incline about half way into
the loop. It had been his most successful effort to date as he alternated
pacing duties with senior Kenny Brown and junior Phil Lee throughout the
workout. He ran controlled, poised and confident for the first time this
season.
Both
he and Sam were waiting together for their parents to arrive to transport them
home from practice. Chris’s usual ride, Jacob Naughton, was staying at school
with the rest of the football team in anticipation of that night’s away game at
Downingtown East High School.
As
they waited, their teammate, Austin Lynch, emerged from inside the gym. He had
a pair ice packs tied carefully around his hamstrings.
“Hey
Austin,” Sam said, with a wave and a smile, “You feeling OK?”
“Yeah,
I should be feeling better soon. Just trying to be on the cautious side.” He
glanced sideways at Chris who, unsure what to say, gave the junior a small,
awkward nod of greeting. Austin returned it just as uncomfortably. “So, um, you
guys coming to Florentino’s tonight?”
“I’ll
be there, but he-,” Sam gestured at his taller friend, “isn’t gonna come
because he ‘thinks he’s not invited’. I mean, c’mon! It’s not like you were
invited or anything, right?”
“Well-er-not
this year. At this point it’s just kinda implied.”
“See!”
Sam said, looking satisfied.
“What
about last year?” Chris pressed, noticing the specification.
“Last
year? Oh, um … Last year Will invited me ...”
“But
just like in passing, right? Like he just as easily could have missed inviting
you?” Sam countered hopefully.
“Not
exactly ... he kinda chased me down as I was leaving practice ...” A blue SUV
pulled into the traffic circle just in front of them. “This is me,” Austin said
lamely, “I’ll-uh-see you guys tonight, maybe.” And he climbed quickly into the
front seat of the car, grateful to escape the uncomfortable conversation.
“Dang
it. I was worried he’d say something like that.” Sam said as they watched the
Lynch’s car drive away.
“Why
is that?”
“Because
Will did the same thing to me earlier this year.” He glumly plopped down on the
ground and dropped his chin into his hands. Smiling exasperatedly, Chris sat
down next to him.
“Can
you explain to me why it matters to you so much that I come?”
“I
don't know-it doesn’t really.” The freshman replied miserably.
Chris
considered him, half amused half frustrated. “Alright, perk up, Wendell, I'm
coming.” He got to his feet. “But you owe me one.”
“Actually,
I'm going to owe you two,” Sam said crouching in preparation to rise onto his
feet as well. “Can you give me a ride?”
Chris
shook his head and smiled. “You know, you’re good, kid. Definitely helped I’m
such a sucker. But still good.” He extended a hand and pulled the freshman up
off the ground. “This is us by the way.” A white Honda had pulled up into the
traffic circle with Mrs. Cline seated behind the wheel. Chris walked forward,
wobbling slightly on his tired legs. He pulled open the trunk at the back of
the car and threw in his pack, encouraging Sam to do the same.
“Hey
Mom, can we give my friend Sam a ride?”
“Of
course. Where am I taking him?” She asked as Chris joined her at the front of
the vehicle. She kissed him quickly on the cheek.
“He’s
coming back to our house if that’s cool. The Cross Country team is going out to
dinner tonight.”
“Ooo,
that sounds like fun.” She put the car into drive as she heard the click of
both boy’s seat belts. “Where are you eating?”
“You
know that place Florentino’s? By the Sunoco?”
“I
know of it, yes, but I’ve never been there before. You will have to let us know
if it’s any good. Maybe we will go back another night with your father.” She
slowed as they approached a red light. “So Sam, where do you live?”
“Um-I
live on Taylor Road.” He said, sounding a little nervous. “It’s pretty close to
the Shankweiler Elementary School.”
“Oh,
very nice. So you aren’t terribly far from us then.” The light turned to green
and Mrs. Cline restarted her drive. “Chris, you can probably just cut down
Prosser Ave when you take him back.”
“But
I’ll be coming from Florentino’s, how do I get to Prosser from there?”
“I
can show you,” Sam piped up from the back, his comfort level rising. “I
remember from when my dad did the drive last time.”
“Ah
perfect, that’s very nice of you!” Mrs. Cline said, turning off the main road
and into the neighborhoods. “Now, Sam, let me ask you something …”
As
they continued toward her home, she asked Sam a variety of questions about
school, family and running. Eventually, she pulled into the driveway outside of
the Cline house and paused her interrogation.
“Sorry
about her,” Chris whispered to Sam as the pair exited the car and walked around
to the trunk. “She does that with all my friends.”
“It’s
OK, I kinda like it.” He hoisted his back pack around his shoulders and
followed Chris toward the house. “She’s super nice.”
“Just
wait. Once you hit your peak teenage years, you will probably feel
differently.” As they entered through the front door, Chris tossed his back
pack into the hall closet. “I’m just going to run up and change real fast.” He
sniffed under his arms. “Maybe put on some deodorant or something.”
“Please
tell me you won’t be using any more of that awful spray?” Mr. Cline walked down
the stairs to greet the new arrivals. He gave Chris a wide smile which Chris
sheepishly returned. “Hi, I’m Scott.” He said extending his hand.
“Sam.”
The freshman took it and shook.
“Mom
says you guys are going out to dinner?” He asked the boys looking from Sam to
Chris.
“Yeah,
we’re going to Florentino’s. It’s like a Cross Country thing.” Chris said,
waving his left hand. “Anyway, I gotta get some clothes from upstairs.” He
bounded upward while his compatriot waited below. He quickly shifted through
his drawers until he found a shirt that he liked. Then, it was on to his closet
to look for matching pants. His arsenal of clothes had nearly doubled in the
past year, making his usual go-to outfits harder to find. Below, he could hear
Sam and his father discussing the next day’s invitational which Mr. Cline had
called a “Cross Country Game”.
After
changing, he paused beside his night table, examining his spray bottle.
Thinking better of it, he grabbed a deodorant stick from atop his dresser and
rolled it under each of his arms.
When
he made his way back downstairs, his parents had disappeared to separate rooms.
His mother had went into the kitchen while his father was likely back in his
study. Now alone, Sam had taken to wandering around, looking at the collection
of Cline family-related displays that had been scattered about the living room.
“I didn’t know you had a brother,”
Sam said as he studied one of the photos hanging on the wall.
“I don’t,” Chris replied, wandering
over in confusion. He looked at the picture his friend had been viewing. A
small boy in equally small football pads was kneeling and doing his best to
look intimidating. His helmet was positioned artistically at his side. “That’s
me.”
“No way! But that looks nothing
like you. You’re so … little.”
“Yeah,” He smiled reminiscently, “I
had quite the growth spurt. After that, a lot of things changed.” He turned
away from the frame and toward the front hall. “We should probably get going
soon. You said six o’clock, right?” He began trying to style his hair in the
mirror, shifting his head back and forth at different angles to help examine
it.
“Yeah.” Sam snorted with pleasure
as he watched Chris twist before his reflection.
“What?” He turned around to face
the freshman who was grinning fiercely.
“Nothing. I just sorta
feel like I’m intruding on something. Do you want me to leave you two alone?”
Chris shook his head and
smirked. “You’re lucky my hand’s broken.” He walked to the door and grabbed a
set of keys from inside a small, brown basket. “Mom, we’re heading out!” He
called toward the kitchen.
“Alright have fun!” Mrs. Cline
said, sticking her head out of the room’s entranceway. “What time are you
expecting to get back?”
“I’m not sure-probably not that
late. Everybody’s got to get up early tomorrow for the meet.”
“OK. Bring a house key, Chris. Your
father and I might still be at the football game.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were
going … Keep me updated on how they do.”
“You got it.” Her head disappeared
back into the kitchen and the boys turned to leave.
The drive to Florentino’s took
about ten minutes in the post work day traffic. Chris could hear his stomach
growling slightly. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and was looking forward
to some pizza. Proceeding carefully, he parked his mother’s car in the middle
of the lot with free space on both sides. His dashboard clock read 6:02, but,
based on the surrounding emptiness, it didn’t appear many runners had arrived
yet.
“How many people usually come to
this?” Chris asked as he and Sam exited their respective doors.
“A decent amount. It’s probably
like eight to ten most nights, but it varies depending on people’s homework and
stuff.”
“Does the girl’s team come to this,
too?”
“No, we pretty much never interact
with them.”
They reached the door, Chris
pulling it open for his friend to enter. Just inside the entranceway was a row
of tables and booths that led up to a counter. There, the food was ordered and
served. In the middle of the row a group of runners had peppered the seats. The
new arrivals approached. Sam gave his usual wave and smile while Chris was more
conservative. The latter’s reception was unsurprisingly icy.
“Hey guys,” Sam continued past the
Cross Country tables and walked straight to the counter, Chris following
uncertainly in his wake. There were a variety of pizza options displayed with
different sauces and toppings. They also had a tray of garlic knots in the top
left corner.
“What can I get you guys?” A middle
aged man with a shaved head appeared just behind the counter. He wore a plain
white shirt covered with a dark blue apron. He looked gruff and intimidating.
“I’ll have a slice of Sicilian,
please.” Sam said quickly, pointing to the pie.
“And you?”
“Um …” He looked around at the pies
and then into the man’s impatient face. “I’ll just have two slices of plain,
please.” Chris said, feeling overwhelmed by the choices. The server behind the
desk silently moved the requested pieces into the oven and walked back away
from his customers and out of sight.
“Two slices of plain, Cline? C’mon
you’re better than that.” Their teammates Andy Eggleston and Matt Schmidt were
walking up behind them. Andy was carrying what appeared to be a half gallon of
chocolate milk.
“What’s up guys,” Chris said
grinning and moving to the side to make space for the pair to order. “Why do
you have all that chocolate milk?”
“To drink it, obviously,” Matt said
stepping up to the counter. The man in the white shirt came forward, his scowl
turning to a smile as he spotted the two juniors.
“What’s going on, Joe?” Andy said
waving and returning the beam. “Can we get the usual?”
“And also four cups?”
“Of course, how are you boys
doing?” As he engaged them in conversation, he gathered Chris and Sam’s heated
slices and tossed them curtly onto the counter. The duo paid for their
respective orders and then slinked off to their seats, Chris looking back over
his shoulder to study the unlikely interaction going on behind him.
“How do they know that guy?” He
asked Sam as the pair perused seats among the teammates who had already
arrived. They picked an unoccupied booth just behind a set of four runners that
included the team captains Will Aldrich and Ricky Collins.
“They know everybody.” Sam said
shrugging and sitting down. He eyed his pizza ravenously.
“I just don’t get it.” Chris
careened his neck to try and maintain a view of the counter. “The guy was
terrifying when we came in and now he looks like Santa Clause’s balder,
skinnier brother.” He bit into his first slice of pizza. “Who’s also Italian.”
“He must be adopted then.”
While they sat, Chris could feel
his phone buzz. He pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open, hoping to
hear news from the game. Instead it was from his girlfriend Melissa. Postponing
his meal briefly, he clicked away at his phone’s keys, trying to quickly update
her on his plans for the night. As usual, she responded almost immediately,
sometimes with multiple texts at a time. Rather than try and keep pace, he
pocketed his phone and decided not to delay his dinner any longer.
As they continued to eat, a few
other members of the team filed in, each barely acknowledging the table closest
to the door. Austin Lynch and Mike Rykken had apparently already eaten dinner before
they arrived, so they simply filed into the table across from the captains and
joined in the conversation.
“How you feeling, Austin?” Ricky
asked as the junior lounged casually in his chair.
“I’m fine. Should be operating
close to 100 percent by start time tomorrow.”
Just after them, Alex Robinson and
Jack Lowery meandered inside, nodded a general hello and made their way to the
back to order. As they reached the front, Andy and Matt traded places with
them, waved good bye to the man named Joe and joined the rest of the team. They
skipped over an open space at Austin and Mike’s table, looking outside the heart
of the group.
“Mind if we join you?” Matt said,
as Sam scooted to his right to make space. Opposite them, Andy slid in next to
Chris. As the juniors settled, Chris could have sworn he noticed some brief
scathing glares emanating from the tables ahead of him.
“See Chris,” Andy said, pointing
down at his plate, “This is how you order pizza at Florentino’s.” He had two
slices on his plate, one buffalo chicken, the other barbeque chicken. He then
unstacked a pair of cups, poured chocolate milk into the first and slid it
across to Matt. “How’d the workout go today by the way? I never got to ask.”
“It was pretty solid.” Chris
replied, in between bites of food. He felt his surroundings get a little
quieter as he spoke. The captains’ table seemed to be listening in. “Kenny did
a really good job helping me find the pace so that made it easier.”
“You think Coach will have you race
next week? Or at least against Coatesville?” He took a massive bite from his
buffalo chicken slice.
“I hope so. I’m eager to get out
there and race. Plus, I hate Coatesville.” He flexed his healthy hand
subconsciously, thinking back to his grueling opening football game against the
Raiders.
“Yeah, we ‘ate ‘em ‘oo.”
“I’m not surprised you ate them,
Andy.” Matt said jokingly, picking away at his own meal. He had ordered a plate
of spaghetti; the only member of the team Chris had seen without pizza.
“Is Coatesville as good at Cross
Country as they are Football?” Chris asked.
“No … They’re better. They won
states last year by 106 points. It was largest margin of victory in state
history.” He took a long swig of Chocolate Milk and then touched his cup to the
table. There was a long silence. The name Coatesville seemed to have sucked the
life from the group.
“Yo Will,” Matt said, finally
breaking the silence. “You see they ranked Manheim Township over Coatesville on
VaniaRunners?”
“Yeah,” Will replied. His voice was
soft and even. “It seems fair. They did beat them at Gettysburg.”
“But did you see Coatesville’s JV
guys?” Ricky Collins chimed in. His voice was a bit louder, a bit higher
pitched and less deliberate. “A couple sophomores took the top two spots. They
should jump into the varsity spots over Mahon and Wolfinger.”
“They’ll both be at the meet
tomorrow, right?” Chris asked, “So I guess we will see how they stack up then.”
The team looked around at one another, surprised to see the quarterback join in
the conversation and unsure how they should respond.
“‘We’?” Will finally said, raising
his voice slightly, but keeping a similar, controlled tone. “Does that mean
you’re coming to Cedar Crest tomorrow?”
“I mean, yeah, I was planning to.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’?” Chris
looked around the room for some explanation, but everyone seemed to be
defaulting to their star captain. “I’m coming out to support my teammates.”
“Really?” Will said his eyebrows
beginning to disappear into his long brown hair. “Because I was under the
impression your teammates were playing tonight.”
Chris resisted the urge to lash out
aggressively. “I wouldn’t know, considering I’m here right now.” He said as
coolly as he could manage.
“Sure. ‘Right now’. We’ll see where
you are in a couple months when that cast comes off.”
“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to wait
and see … I’m aiming for a couple seconds ahead of you.”
“Funny, I thought quarterbacks were
supposed to have good aim.” Will smirked as a couple of the others snickered.
Fuming now, Chris opened his mouth
to retort, but before he could, Andy stuffed a cup of chocolate milk in his
hand. “What’s this?” The quarterback said, looking taken aback. A few feet
away, Matt was doing the same for Will.
“Just say, ‘Cheers’, drink up and
change the subject.” Andy said, holding up his own cup. “You guys are making
things real uncomfortable for everybody else.”
“It’s cool,” Will said, his voice
returning to its original soft tone. “I’ve got to head out anyway.” He left his
cup on the table, undrained and got to his feet. “See you guys tomorrow at
seven.”
Ben Havleck, cont.
“So
what’s the plan?”
“I'm just gonna give her back the book and-I
don’t know-maybe wish her a nice summer or something.”
“Dude,
you gotta do more than that.”
“Neal, I'm leaving tomorrow, what do you
expect me to do? Ask her out on a date for two months from now?” Ben sat in his
car, which was parked on the side of the road outside a large house with a
basketball hoop in the front driveway.
“I’m
just saying,” the voice of his friend Neal came through the phone, “she seems like a nice, smart girl. If you
don't make a move, she’s gonna find somebody taller.”
“Man, I’m not gonna miss this crap that you
keep giving me,” he said just as a neighbor walked by with his dog. “Sorry-er-I
wasn't talking to you or-”he looked down at the dog who smiled up at him with his
tail wagging happily, “-just talking to someone on the phone.” The man shook
his head angrily, but otherwise continued his stroll.
“What
was that?”
“There was a guy walking his dog and he was
carrying-well the dog had just ... you know ... and I had said-.” He stopped
talking as the front door to the house opened. “Crap.”
“I'm
still not sure I get it.”
“Gotta go.” He hung up the phone and tossed
it aside, hurrying to pick up the book from the passenger’s seat.
“Ben?” Nicole said tentatively as she
approached, “Is that you?”
“Hey!” He replied, opening the door and carrying
the book out with him. “I was about to call you, I-um-didn’t recognize your
house in the dark.” He walked around so they were on the same side of the car.
“That's ok, I almost didn't recognize you
either. Your hair looks so different!”
“Like good different or-”
“No, no I like it. It just takes a second
to get used to it.”
“Haha yeah I feel the same way about the
new Ariana Grande album.” He immediately realized his joke wasn’t funny. She
smiled at him, looking confused. “Er-Here’s your book by the way.” He held out
the book and as she reached to grab it, their hands touched. He lingered for a
moment, holding the book.
“Can I-um-have it back?” She asked
awkwardly.
“Oh, right.” Blushing horribly, he pulled
back his hands quickly. Too quickly, in fact. The book crashed to the ground.
“Sorry!” Nicole said, now blushing her own
deep red. They both ducked down and nearly banged heads.
“Sorry!” they said together, rising up.
Their faces were unexpectedly close together. They stared at each other for a
second. He expected her to back up, but she didn’t move. He could hear Neal’s
voice reverberating inside his head. If
you don't make a move, she’s gonna find somebody taller.
“So ...” he started uncertainly. He took a
tiny step forward and leaned his head toward her. She closed her eyes. “I
should probably get going.” He said awkwardly stepping away. “I'm glad I
could-um-give you your book back.” He cursed himself silently in his head.
“Oh-yeah,” Nicole said, briefly thrown, but
recovering well. “Thanks for bringing it back!”
“No problem.” He walked back around so that
his car was between them again. She walked backward toward her house.
“See you later!” She turned away from him.
He watched her go. His stomach doing back flips. His heart racing quickly in
his chest.
“Nicole!” He blurted it out, forcing
himself to say it before the courage dissipated.
“Yeah?” She turned back around and smiled
at him. A beautiful, wide smile with bright white teeth.
“I got the Georgetown internship,” he said
dejectedly, “I'm leaving tomorrow.”
“That's awesome! Congratulations!” She
said, still smiling, but without some of the hopefulness she had previously.
“How long will you be in DC?”
“About two months.”
She nodded. “Well … have fun!” Once again
she turned to leave.
“When I come back,” he said, his voice quivering
more than he would like, “do you think maybe you-um-would want to-like-grab
some dinner or something?” There was a beat of silence that seemingly dragged
on for eternity.
“Yeah ... yeah, definitely. I’d like that.”
The smile was back in all its former glory.
“Awesome, I’ll-uh-well, I guess it might be
easier to plan when we get closer ...” They laughed a nervous, excited laugh.
“Haha sounds good ... see you later, Ben!”
And she turned for the final time.
Chris Cline, cont.
“Hey,
dude, congrats! I heard you got named Ches-mont player of the week.”
“Thanks,
man,” Ernie said embracing his friend. “How’d your race go today?”
“Oh
did I not tell you?” Chris asked, walking with Ernie through the house’s
atrium, “I wasn’t racing this one. Apparently at this meet seniors aren’t
allowed to race in the junior varsity race. So I was just there to support the
guys.”
“Wait,
so you didn't even run? Why didn't you come out with us last night then? You
missed a rager after the game.”
“Ah,
we had a team thing I went to ... just like before all the meets, we go out for
pizza.” To his surprise, he felt a bit of tension between himself and his best
friend.
“Oh
... gotcha. Well come on,” the receiver replied, forcing a happier tone, “I
need a partner for pong. I'm not playing with Petrov again. He sucks.”
“Actually-um,”
Chris said awkwardly, “I'm not drinking tonight. I gotta-um-wake up early and
run tomorrow.” He smiled sadly. “And I should probably go catch up with
Melissa, I haven't seen her in a while. Do you know where she is?”
“Yeah,
I think she’s in the backyard,” Ernie said, drifting in the opposite direction.
“I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Yeah
... I’ll talk to you.” With a sigh, he pushed through the back door and out
into the yard. A small group of students was clustered around an unfolded
table. He recognized Melissa at the corner, across from her friend and fellow
cheerleader Gabby Shepard. When she spotted his approach, she flashed a large
smile and ran forward.
“Chris!”
They embraced and kissed briefly. Her lips tasted slightly fruity. “I missed
you!” She said flinging her arms around his neck. He wobbled slightly under the
weight.
“I
missed you too. Did you wanna go inside and-”
“Come
play with us!” She said, unraveling herself from him and grabbing his hand.
“We’re losing 3 games to 2.” She tried to pull him toward the table.
“I
can’t.”
“Why
not?”
“I-well-I
drove here so-”
“Just
sleep over!” She pulled again at his arm, this time slightly more forcefully,
“Everyone’s doing it. It will be fun!” When he still didn’t budge she
approached again and flung herself around him. “We could have fun.”
“I
really can’t,” Chris said dodging her kiss attempt reluctantly, “I’ve gotta
wake up and run-”
“Run?!”
She blurted in surprise. She followed with a small hiccup. “What do you mean run?”
“Yeah,
it's one of the things I want to talk to you about,” he said excitedly,
thinking back to his experience earlier in the day, “I feel like we have a lot
to catch up on.”
“Oh
you wanna ‘talk’ do you?” Melissa said angrily. She put her hands on her hips.
“No, no, no. I don’t think so.”
Chris
looked back in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“You
have some nerve Chris Cline!” A crowd was now forming around them. The volume
on the music dropped. “You know, I’ve stood by you through all of your recent weirdness. Hanging out with your odd
little track runner friends. Like in front of the cheerleading squad? Really?”
“Well
that was just a stupid bet-”
“Then
you were missing all our parties and just being, like, a total buzz kill all
the time. And still I put up with it. Looks like that was a waste of my time.”
She tapped her foot impatiently. “What-you think you can do better?”
“Huh?
I think there's a misunderstanding here. If we could just go inside and talk
mayb-”
“And
you know what else?” Her voice carried, likely louder than intended as she took
an unsteady step backwards. “You never
even asked me to homecoming!” She said it with the same sort of indignation
someone would direct at a criminal.
“Well,
we were dating … I thought, you know, it was just kinda assumed …”
“Well
you know what happens when you assume, Chris?” She hiccuped again. “It makes
you an ass. That’s what happens.” He bit back the urge to correct her. “But I'm
done, Chris. I’m done thinking you’re that same guy. You’re not a quarterback anymore. You're not even a-a-a
penny-back.” She wobbled again as she gestured aggressively.
“Melissa,”
he said softly, sensing the situation was getting dire. “If we could just go
inside and talk,” he started forward, “I really think-”
“I
know what you're trying to do!” She said stepping swiftly away from him. As she
moved, she teetered dangerously. “But I'm gonna beat you to it!” Her eyes were
welling with tears now. He could feel his own beginning to burn slightly. “I’m breaking up with you! It’s over, Chris Cline!”
It
felt like he had been slapped hard across the face. His head was spinning.
“Melissa … I don’t-”
“Just
go!” She shouted turning into the arms of her nearest friend. “Look around! No
one even wants you here! You’ve got no friends. You’ve got no football. You
don’t have me.” She paused for another brief hiccup. “You’re the same
loser you were two years ago.”
Chris
looked around the crowd that had engulfed them. Faces stared back, not friendly
or compassionate, but cruel, reveling in his embarrassment. A few people had
their phones out and were filming his moment of humiliation.
She’s right.
The
reality hit him like a load of bricks. He backed up, his eyes now tearing in
earnest. Then, he turned and powered back into the house, making a b-line for
his car. He needed to escape.
“Chris!”
He heard a familiar voice calling his name. “Chris!” Ernie grabbed his shoulder
and tried to turn him around. “What happened?” But Chris fought him off. He
needed to get away. To go somewhere no one could see him cry.
***
I’ve
been down so long, it look like up to me … They look up to me … I got fake
people showing fake love to me …
He gripped the wheel tightly. His
eyes watered slightly, but by now his face was dry. He wasn’t in much of a rush
to get home, so he continued to circle the neighborhoods and enjoy his music.
That’s
when they smile in my face … Whole time they want to take my place … Whole time
they want to take my place …
As he turned right to restart his
loop, a light on dashboard flashed, indicating he was out of gas. Knowing he
couldn’t bring home his mother’s car with an empty tank, he adjusted course.
When he made to turn around, he caught sight of his face in the rearview
mirror. It looked skinnier than he remembered it looking a few months ago.
After a few more minutes of driving, he pulled into a gas station, attached to
a Wawa convenience store. Parking next to a pump, he got out of the car and,
with his wallet in hand, made his way inside.
“20 on 4 please,” He said, handing
a bill to the cashier. The man behind the counter nodded and slipped the money
into the cash register. “Thanks.” He walked back outside toward his tank. A
wind rushing through the gas station made him shiver. Regretting his lack of
gloves, he brought his two hands together and raised them to his mouth where he
could blow warm breath into them. Another man was now standing outside his car,
a pump over. He was short and a little heavy. His face looked oddly familiar.
As Chris approached, the man stared
at him unabashedly with a questioning look. Feeling uncomfortable, Chris nodded
politely as he proceeded to his pump, but the man’s gaze remained constant.
Then, finally, he spoke.
“Excuse me,” he said softly, “But
do I know you from somewhere?”
“Oh,” Chris said knowingly, having
experienced this a few times before, “Yeah, I’m the quarterback over at West
Chester North.”
But to his surprise, the man still
appeared puzzled. “No, I don’t think that’s it.”
“Um-well, I’m not sure I really do
anything else all that significant,” he mumbled, now disengaging the nozzle
from his gas tank. “Its probably just somebody else who looks like-”
“Wait, I’ve got it!” The man said,
a smile stretching wide across his face. “You’re Chris Cline! The Cross Country
runner!”
Chris had trouble keeping his jaw
from dropping to the floor. “Yeah, I guess I am. But how would you know that?
Are you just, like really into cross country?”
“Wendell Wikler,” he said now
extending his hand, “My son Sam runs with you guys. He’s a big fan of yours.
Really looks up to you.”
“Er-thanks,” Chris said, sounding
slightly ashamed but shaking hands nonetheless. Then, with more conviction,
“I’m a big fan of his too. You’ve got a really great kid.”
“Must get it from his mother,” Mr.
Wikler joked. “Well, anyway, have a safe trip tomorrow. I’m excited to see how
you boys do out there!”
“Right-um-me too.” Chris replied
hesitantly. He watched Mr. Wikler disappear into his car and prepare to drive
away. He gave one final smile and wave in exactly the same way his son would.
It may have simply been the wind and cold, but he felt his eyes start to water
once more.
