Page 50 of I Hope This Doesn't Find
The second runner on their team has picked up the baton. Jonathan is so fast I swear I can see the wind at his heels. Abigail, meanwhile, is panting hard, holding out the baton with one shaking arm—and the next runner fumbles it.
A mixture of screams and frustrated cries sound through the stadium.
It’s okay, I reassure myself. Repeat it like a chant inside my head. It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m the last runner for a reason. I can make up for all the lost time.
“You don’t remember what you asked me to do?” Julius presses.
I can’t help it. I swivel toward him again, my heart thudding, even though I’m aware I’m rising to the bait. “What?”
Butnowhe chooses to shut up. Their team has completed their second exchange, and I can only watch, choking on my own frustration, as Julius smoothly accepts the baton and takes off.
“Come on,” I hiss, tapping my feet. Our runner is still five feet away.
Four feet.
Julius is racing far ahead, only the back of his head visible from where I stand.
Three feet.
I tense my muscles, stretch my hand out.
Two feet.
“Hurry,”I urge under my breath, even though I want to scream it. Julius can’t win. He can’t. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
One foot—
My fingers close over the baton, and I’m running.
It takes a moment for me to find my rhythm, but once I do, all the built-up adrenaline floods through my limbs. I run faster than I ever have in my life, my eyes pinned on only one person: Julius. My target, my goal. This is what we do, what we have always done. We chase each other and circle each other and catch up to each other.
I have to catch up to him now.
I force my feet onward, relishing the hard push of the ground beneath me, the blood burning inside me, my hair flying back in the wind. Colors blur past my vision. Noise rushes down to me in waves. I’m running so fast I feel weightless. I feel like I’m falling, my body moving ahead of me. There’s no gravity, no friction, nothing except the frantic beat of my heart and the person in my vision. I’m only a few steps behind him now, and I can sense his awareness of me from the way he speeds up. He’s breathing hard, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. His eyes dart to me.
The distance between us widens, then narrows, like a game of tug-of-war.
A muscle in my side starts to cramp, but I ignore the pain. Lengthen my strides. Cut my hands through the air. It’s not only a physical competition but a mental one, a test of willpower, of who wants to win more badly. And I’mso close. We’re neck and neck by this point, and the end is just ahead of us.
I need to keep going.
Keep running.
He pulls ahead again by an inch and my vision flashes red.
With one final burst of pure, unrestrained energy, I leap forward, the air whipping my face as I break the finish line—a split second before he does.
I’m beaming, laughing between great gulps of air.I’ve won.Victory is always delicious, but it tastes even better when it’s Julius I’m beating. We both slow down. The crowd applauds wildly in the background, the claps indistinguishable from the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.Seven points to me, I gloat inside my head, though I realize I can’t remember what our scores were before. I haven’t been properly keeping count.
Most runners double over as soon as the race ends, or collapse dramatically on the ground, the way Abigail is doing now. But of course Julius is too dignified for that. He merely stands, wipes the sweat from his brow, and turns to me, his lips pursed.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” I ask, mimicking his smug tone from before.
He rolls his eyes. “Shameless.”
“I must have learned it from you,” I tell him, my grin widening.
He pauses then. His irritation melts away, replaced briefly by a confused, dazed sort of look, like he’s just been presented with something unexpected. He stares long enough for me to feel self-conscious.
