Page 33 of Waking Olivia

He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he wants to smile. "No one thinks that but you.”

"You sure about that?"

He laughs. "Not entirely."

On the busride to the meet, my serenity slowly seeps away. I got a good night’s sleep, but I still don’t feel good. We arrive and discover the course is muddy, so we're wearing long spikes, which I dislike. My teeth begin to grind and I press my hands into my stomach and walk away.

It's bad.

This is bad.

It's a new course. I'm in new spikes. I ate last night.

Peter comes out to talk to us. Despite my initial chagrin at being coached by Will instead, I’ve begun to suspect that, for me, he's a better fit. Peter's advice is generic. Don’t go out too fast and don't get cocky when you're ahead. When he finishes up, everyone who’s come out for the meet surrounds us, making me feel like I can't breathe. Their excitement just makes this thing in my stomach worse. Nicole introduces me to her parents and asks if mine are still traveling. I notice Will look over when she asks.

"Yeah," I say. "I think so."

"Must be nice,” Nicole says, turning to her parents. "Finn's parents have been traveling forweeks. Why don't you guys do that?"

Her father grumbles something about having to pay for her frequent trips to Macy's and I extricate myself, breaking from the group and pacing in the field behind us. I thought escaping would make the anxiety better, but it doesn’t. I slept last night and this should be an incredible day, a perfect run, but it won't be. I feel it in my bones. I've now had every benefit I've been denied at past meets and I'm still going to implode. And then what happens to this unfounded belief I had in my potential?

"This is all fucked up," I whisper to myself again and again. "This is all fucked up."

Will walks out to find me. "You look sick," he says. "Are you okay?"

I shake my head. "I have a bad feeling. You shouldn't have made me eat. God, why did I listen to you? I’m going to tank."

"Liv, everyone has a bad feeling before a race. It's called nerves.”

I shake my head again. My own belief in my imminent failure is too strong to be dissuaded.

“Listen to me.” He holds his hand to my shoulder, forcing me to meet his eye. "You. Have. This. You do. Just go out and run your own race. I know Peter told you all not to get cocky in the last mile, but I’m telling you different. Get cocky. Sprint. You have it. You always have it leftover when we're done and you'll have it today."

I nod. A tiny part of me is inclined to believe him.

When the gun goes off, I try to focus on what Will said to me, but instead hear my own ranting.

I feel weak.

I shouldn't have eaten.

That food is sitting in my gut just weighing me down.

The spikes are throwing me off. They don't feel right. I should have trained in them more than I did.

Why the hell didn't Will make us train more in these conditions? It shouldn’t feel this hard in the first mile.

I listen and begin to panic, until I force myself to remember what Will said. He believes I have this, and maybe he’s right. That’s when we get our one-mile split and I realize that we areblazing, these two other girls and me. It felt hard because we just ran a fast first mile, which means that no matter how bad I thought I felt, I'm performing as if I'm good.

I have it today. Whatever it is I need, I have. The moment I realize this, I break ahead and forget about everyone behind me.

I make myself do what Will said.

I run my own race, compete against my own desire to slow, to rest my legs.

With one mile left, I blow it out. I'm sprinting and I'm stillfinewhen I see the finish line in the distance, when I come around the curve and hear the clang of cowbells and the shouts. That’s when I know that I'm really going to do it. I blow through and the first person I look for is Will. He’s already running toward me, exultant, and I feel something in my chest that pulls me toward him as well, as if we are tethered. He comes at me fast and then stops himself short, clapping me on the shoulder.

"You did it.” He grins. "You broke the course record, Olivia."

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