Page 105 of You Had Me At Thirteen

Win.

Go faster.

Prove yourself.

He won’t love you otherwise.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up.

I suck in a breath and push a little harder, giving my head a slight shake to shut out my nagging brain. Not once have I thought about him at training, and now, when I need to focus on this race, he’s filling my head with his bullshit words even from the fucking grave.

The State girls keep pace behind me as the front slow and fall back. This is it. This is where I take my place at the front of the pack. Three laps down, three-quarters of one to go.

My front spot is short-lived. One Sunny State girl comes up beside me and steps in front, setting the pace for the rest of the race, as the other stays on my heels. This isn’t ideal, but I’ve trained for this. I know what I’m doing. As we pass the last turn coming into the home stretch, I kick, pumping my arms and legs faster.

We form a line as the two girls keep up with me, one just in front, the other just behind to my left. Her breathing matches my own, her footsteps in sync, each pound of our feet like a rhythmic drum.

The crowd roars as the finish line comes into view, creeping closer with every second. But with about five metres to go, the second State girl comes up beside me, her body just in front of mine, so I push forward as we cross the line at the same time.

Sucking in air, I walk in circles, waiting for the time to show up on the big screen. My eyes are glued to it, each second that passes the longest ones of my life. My heart drops into my stomach when I see my name in third position, one-one-hundredth of a second behind second place.

The disappointment on my coach’s face is nothing compared to my own. I can’t believe I lost. My stomach drops and I’m on the verge of tears as I congratulate the two winners, before I storm off to the change rooms.

I stand under the hot shower, sobbing quietly into my hands. After I’ve dressed, I give my face a splash of cold water from the tap, and wipe away the evidence of my broken heart. Disappointment isn’t even the word to use right now. It’s much worse. My chest aches, so I go through the motions as I attempt to block it out.

Wren and Audrey are waiting outside the stadium for me, but I can’t speak to either of them right now.

Wren wraps an arm over my shoulders. ‘It’s all good, baby,’ he says. ‘You were brilliant. I know it’s not the outcome you really wanted, but I’m sure there’s another option.’

I shrug out of his grasp. What the fuck would he know?

‘Don’t be like that,’ Audrey says, putting an arm around my waist.

‘I don’t want to talk about it, so please stop talking to me.’ I avoid their eyes, knowing I’m being a total bitch right now, but I can’t help myself. Just looking at their faces reminds me I’m a failure.

Wren remains quiet as we head to his car, and all three of us don’t speak until we drop Audrey off and she hugs me goodbye.

The five-minute drive from Audrey’s place to ours feels like an eternity.

‘Want to talk about it now?’ Wren says, breaking the silence.

‘No.’ When I look at Wren, an unfamiliar sensation sets up in my chest.

He isn’t looking at me as though I just disappointed him. Why not? I’ve just lost one of the most important races of my life, but he remains on my side. Shouldn’t he be telling me about all the ways I failed so I can do better next time? Although, there won’t be a next time. I lost that chance by not winning. Doesn’t he realise what this means?

‘It’s not the end of the world, Til. There are still ways for you to get into the university you want. And Nationals are every year.’

I scoff. ‘Jesus, Wren, I knew this was a fucking bad idea from the start.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ He grips the steering wheel tighter, his eyebrows shooting up.

‘Nothing. Forget it.’ I sink into the seat as I swipe at my tears and stare out the window.

Wren pulls into his driveway, and I jump out first, needing to get as far away from him, and my feelings, as possible.

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