Page 16 of Waking Olivia

I struggle for air and utter a slew of profanities.Why?Why the morning of our first meet? I'm doomed now. There's no way I'll perform. None.

The early morning air chills my damp skin, bringing goosebumps, and I know I've got to get moving. But to where? At least if it were night, I'd be able to make out the lights, but right now I see nothing. Sure, I can tell which way is east based on where the sky is lightest. Doesn't do a damn bit of good unless you know what direction you went in the first place.

I jog back through the field for lack of a better idea. Eventually, I'll hit a road. Eventually, it will be daytime and someone can tell me where I am. But as the sky lightens, I realize I'm heading for more woods.

I double back and begin to run harder. It's probably between 5-5:30 right now and I'm supposed to be at school by 6:00 to catch the bus to our meet. With every step, I know I’m about to lose another scholarship.

By the time I find a road I’m desperate. I hear the rumble of an old muffler approaching. Hitchhiking is what’s going to get me killed eventually. Today, though, it feels as if I've got no choice.

The guy pulls up alongside me, the roar of his truck drowning the silence. "Need a lift?" he asks, brow furrowed as he takes in my appearance. I'm dressed to run, aside from the missing shoes. I don’t bother to assess his appearance. Even if he’s got a machete on his front seat, I’m getting in the truck.

"Yes, please," I breathe. "I'm trying to get to campus."

"You ran here all the way from campus?" he asks.

I nod.

"Now why’d you do something like that?"

I'd really love to stop this game of 20 questions and push his foot to the accelerator, but I have to play nice. "I was out running, and I got lost, and I think I just got more and more lost," I reply. It's not entirely untrue.

“Well, damn, girl, you belong on a track team. We got to be seven miles from campus at least."

Oh shit.

We start driving. He’s blathering on about something, but all I can think is that I’m completely fucked. I probably ran nine miles this morning all together. There’s not a chance I’ll perform. There’s not a chance I won’t be the slowest girl on the field. How the hell am I going to explain it?

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks.

I glance at him warily. He looks older than me, but not old, and I dislike the eager glint in his eye as he waits for my answer. “Yeah.”

He laughs. “Can’t be much of one if you’re jumping out of his bed to go running this early in the morning.” He tells me he has a son who’s eight, but he only sees him about once a month. He tells me he has a boat. “You like being out on the water?” he asks.

I nod, though I’ve never been.

“I’ll take you out on my boat sometime, then. Write down your cell,” he says, pushing a receipt toward me. I make up a number and hand it back, directing him to a sorority house on the other side of campus. No fucking way is this guy finding out where I live.

I get home with just enough time to change before I have to run back across campus to the track, and I'm still late. Betsy’s smirk is so wide I'm surprised it doesn't crack her face.

Will never even glances at me as I climb on the bus, which feels intentional somehow. The girls talk, anxiety making them extra annoying. Some of them have parents coming to the event, which I suppose is an extra layer of excitement if you actually have parents you'd want attending.

I chug my water bottle, but there's no way I can drink enough to make up for the fact that I ran as much as I did this morning. Today it's that loose-limbed weakness that comes after a long, hard run. It's the kind of weakness that no effort on my part can overcome. I can't think of a time in my life when I ran that far and stayed asleep. I'm going to fuck this meet up as badly as I've ever fucked up anything.

"Are your parents coming, Finn?" asks Nicole.

I shake my head. "They're traveling."

"Where'd they go?"

"Your guess is as good as mine.” And this is entirely true. As far as I know, they've been traveling for the 14 years since they dumped me with my grandmother and took off.

Will listens to our exchange, still stony-faced.

"What crawled up his ass?" whispers Erin as we climb off the bus.

I shrug. I don't know, but it will be a hell of a lot worse after we don't place today. I get in line for the port-a-potties, and the moment I've gone, I feel like I have to go again. My limbs are weak. I often feel a little weak and shaky at the start from nerves. Today, I'm pretty sure it's not nerves.

Will tells us to try to stay ahead of Denton, our biggest rival, to block them out in the last mile. But he doesn’t direct a single word of this to me as if I'm not going to be in the race at all. It's a fair assumption.

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