Page 141 of You Had Me At Thirteen

After breakfast, I double check my bag again, then we head for the door.

‘Meet you there, sweetheart,’ Mum calls out from her bedroom at the top of the stairs.

When we arrive at the stadium, Wren pulls into a carpark and shuts the car off. He waits for me to gather myself before we head in.

There’s about half an hour before my race, so Wren leads me to the marshalling area to warm up. A group of girls glance over at me, before finding the tall artwork standing beside me. At first I’m tempted to tell them to take a picture. Or eat shit. Instead, I use their suggestive glances towards Wren as ammunition to kick their arses. Although, I get it, he’s beautiful. But he’s fucking mine.

When my race is called, I go to move, but my feet stay planted to the ground.

My vision blurs around the edges, caving in like the darkness rushing at you when you go through a tunnel or a scary clown ride at the carnival. A tight band wraps around my chest, and I rub my breastbone as I blink back the fuzziness. It hangs on, lingering around my peripheral vision.

‘Baby.’ Wren shakes my shoulders, concern on his face as he gets down to my level. ‘Matilda?’

My vision comes back again and I blink at him. ‘I can’t do this,’ I say, blinking back the tears.

‘Youcando this, but you don’t have to. It’s your choice. It always has been.’

‘My choice?’

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips as he searches my face. ‘Always.’

‘But I’ll regret it if I don’t.’ I meant the words to be a question but it comes out like a statement.

I’ll regret it if I don’t.

How many people can say they get second chances like this? After the encounter with Eli, Mum grovelled at my feet and waited on me day and night for a week until I told her I couldn’t handle it anymore. I’m not made of glass.

Sure, the situation was all kinds of fucked up. And if I said I wasn’t scared out of my brain, I’d be a big fat liar. But I’m fine. Mum organised some counselling sessions for me at the hospital. I cried. Talked. Cried some more. And after, I felt a sense of calm. It’ll take more than some cuts and bruises to bring me down, especially right now.

This is my second chance to prove to myself that I have what it takes to live my life the way I want to. It’s not for the dead father who didn't know a good thing when he had it. Not for my coach. Not even for Wren. This is mine.

‘You’ve got this, Til,’ Wren says as he pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head. ‘It’s all you. But I’ll be waiting at the finish line. Drown out the shit, breathe in the calm.’

I snort into his chest and listen to his laugh rumble through his chest. It’s deep and calming and all Wren. My love. My goddamn life.

‘What? I think that was pretty good for on the spot. I should become a motivational speaker with words of wisdom like that.’

I slap his chest. ‘Calm down Shakespeare, I wouldn’t go that far.’

He lifts a shoulder. ‘You’re probably right.’

‘I am right, trust me. But I’ll still be in your corner if that’s what you want.’

‘I know.’ He kisses my forehead, before shoving me away with a smack to my bum. ‘Now, get. You’ve got this, kid.’

With my thumbs up, I take a deep breath and walk my way to my future.

My feet dig into the white paint of the starting line, every noise, every movement around me zoned out as I focus on getting to that finish line first.

It’s all me.

‘Take your marks,’ the speaker says, sending me into position.

I close my eyes for a second, and picture myself crossing the white finish line first. When my eyes open again, the buzzer rings out in my ears.

My feet leave their mark, and I take off, feeling at ease, doing exactly what I’ve been training so hard for. Every movement, every breath is pre-planned. Practiced repeatedly until it’s wired into my brain.

Heavy breaths surround me, but I can’t see the bodies breathing them. My focus remains ahead of me as the first lap ends.

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