Page 142 of You Had Me At Thirteen

Each stride takes me further towards my future, and I know I have to leave it all on the line right now. No holding back.

The crowd is drowned out, tunnel vision set in front of me. A spark ignites in my chest, spreading out into my limbs, and the overwhelming feeling to cry sets in. But it’s not a sadness that has taken hold, it’s my intuition, my higher-self telling me I’ve got this.

There are bodies surrounding me, breathing, panting, hoping to win just like me. So we stick together, pushing each other with each stride until one of us crosses the threshold first.

As we come into the last lap, my lungs are burning, but I pick up my pace. This is it. No going back now.

The last bend comes at me fast, and I allow the crowd’s roar to fill my ears for the first time since the race started.

The finish line comes up in front of my eyes, but time slows down. The roar of the crowd is silenced again by the sound of each breath, and my footsteps against the ground.

Five metres.

Drown out the shit.

Two metres.

Breath in the calm.

I close my eyes as I cross the finish line. I’m not even sure if I won, but the feeling flowing through me right now has me unable to care. This is the first race in my entire life where I did it just for myself. I’m now free from the judgements of my dead father. It’s better than any win.

When I look over into the stands and find my family – my mum, Wren, Audrey, Clive, Koby, Emerson, Jordan, Carla, even Willis – I know I’ve won. Mum is crying as she hugs Carla. Wren is whistling and screaming my name while throwing punches in the air. Audrey and Clive are jumping up and down, hugging everyone and anyone they can get their arms around.

A smile spreads over my face, threatening to stay there permanently, my cheeks aching. I glance up at the sky and blink back the tears.

Freedom feels amazing until I’m body-slammed against a hard chest. I don’t have to open my eyes to know it belongs to Wren.

‘That’s my girl,’ he says into my ear. ‘I knew you could do it. You were so fucking good. Is it weird that I’m horny as fuck right now?’

‘Oh. My. God,’ I say, shoving Wren in the chest.

He chuckles and runs his eyes down my body. ‘What? It’s not my fault you look sexy as hell in this uniform.’

‘Pig,’ I say.

‘Tease,’ Wren says before launching me into the air and catching me.

All the tension drains from my body, leaving me feeling weightless as Wren spins me around. There’s nothing at this moment that can bring me down from this high.

SIXTY-ONE

Matilda

* * *

It’s our last week of school, and if someone had told me ten weeks ago I’d be sitting in Mr Hughes’s class, staring into the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, about to finish our very last high school assignment, I would have called them crazy.

Fucking. Crazy.

But here I am, Wren opposite me, about to read his writing piece. The grin on his face has my stomach turning into knots. It’s a sly smile that has me wondering what the hell he’s written.

Mr Hughes quiets the class, and all the girls fix their eyes on Wren. Does he even realise he’s the centre of attention right now? Because I certainly do. Rolling my eyes, wishing I could gouge all of theirs out with my scissors, I have an idea. I could just tell them to all go fuck themselves, but obviously I don’t curse at – or stab – anyone. Expulsion isn’t on the cards for my last week of school.

Ignoring the thigh-clenching going on in the room, I turn back to Wren and take a deep breath. He leans back in his chair and crosses his right ankle over his left knee as words flow from his sculpted lips.

‘Matilda Rose Maxwell. Neighbour-slash-girlfriend, and love of my fucking life…’

The girls sigh in unison, most of them unconsciously leaning forward with their chins on their hands while eye-fucking my boyfriend.

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