Moon Runner (4 page)

“That wouldn’t be the same,” Alana answered.

“I know.” Mina chopped at the air with her tiny green shears.

The whistle blew for the fifty-meter tryouts, and the class C girls took off.

Mina could hear the swish of Ruth’s nylon running shorts and could smell her lemony shampoo. Suddenly she thought of Sammy and Ruth playing on the ledge without her. Of the way the Fellow Friends were falling apart. Of Alana’s disappointment. Instead of trying hard, her body eased, like a rubber band that stretches and then relaxes. She fell back.

“Ruth Largness first! Shawndra Lopez second! Liz Barret third! Cassie Corbis fourth!” Coach shouted as they each came in.

Mina didn’t count how many other girls finished ahead of her. She could have done better. Maybe not well enough to beat Ruth, but at least well enough to place in the top four.

The breath caught in her throat like a drink of water that had gone down the wrong way.

In the afternoon, Mina and Ruth worked on the frog project. Instead of sitting next to Mina, Ruth took the photos to organize at a table across the room.

Mina copied onto the poster board:
The red-eyed tree frog changes its color when it changes its mood. It can be dark green or a reddish brown.

Ruth changed like a tree frog, too, she thought. When Mina had been only a girlie girl, Ruth had been friendly. But now that Mina competed with her, Ruth ignored her. She felt like saying
I lost the race on purpose.
Just the thought made her bite the inside of her cheek. Why was Ruth still acting so cold?

Mina replayed the tryouts in her mind. She’d thought she didn’t care about winning, but losing had felt terrible.

At the end of science period, Ms. Jenner rang a chime.

Mina held the baggie open for the photos, and Ruth slid them in without touching Mina’s fingers.

As the class sat in a circle on the rug, Ms. Jenner passed around a picture of an ancient moon goddess. “The ancient Greeks called her Hecate,” she said.

“Why does she have three heads?” Sammy asked.

“Can anyone guess?”

“Like, ’cause the moon looks three different ways?” suggested Clarisa, who sat next to Mina in the circle.

“Yes, and because of the three phases, the ancient peoples thought the moon had three different personalities,” Ms. Jenner continued. “Some thought the crescent moon looked like a knife. The full moon seems to bring blessings. People believed that in her dark phase, the moon makes people go crazy.”

Sammy caught Alana’s attention, then traced circles in the air with his index finger.

Alana stuck her tongue out at him.

The moon changed the way the red-eyed tree frogs did. The way Ruth did.

Mina thought about her own different faces. She wanted to win. She wanted to lose. She wanted to beat her friend. She wanted to keep her friend. Sometimes she just didn’t know what she wanted, who she was. There was the old stick-in-the-mud self and the new Moon Runner self and someone in between. She felt as three-faced as the moon.

At a special meeting after school, Coach sat everyone down at the lunch tables. It was time to announce the teams that would compete at Duncan Berring Elementary.

First he announced the boys, reading from the paper on his clipboard. The boys popped up and down and cheered when their names were read. Sammy didn’t make a team. But then again, he’d told Coach a long time ago that he’d be visiting his grandparents the weekend of the meet.

Coach announced the girls’ class D team, pausing between announcements for the noise to die away.

Mina straightened the fabric of her shorts, matching the stripes so they ran evenly from one side to the other. After her miserable finish in the fifty meter, she was sure she wouldn’t be on the Elizabeth Morris Elementary team.

“And on the class C fifty-meter relay team: Ruth, Shawndra, Liz, and Cassie.”

All four girls stood up and shouted, “Yes!” and slapped one another’s palms.

Mina sucked in a breath of air. But she’d been right. Even though she could run fast, she wouldn’t be competing. She wasn’t a racer after all. Mina closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her eyelids to keep from crying.

She heard Coach take in a breath, preparing for the next announcement: “And on the class C fifty-meter sprint: Mina Lee and Ruth Largness.”

Mina opened her eyes. At first a little flame of excitement rose up in her — she’d made it! Had she heard right? Ruth had stood up and was looking at her. Mina stood too and then Ruth sat down. No palm slapping. No Fellow Friends Handshake.

Mina focused on the asphalt underneath the picnic table. She scraped at the loose bits with her toe. Two Fellow Friends competing against each other.

She glanced in Ruth’s direction. How did Ruth feel? Did she think Coach’s assignment was a joke? Or was she a little worried?

But Ruth didn’t seem to be thinking about Mina.

She and the other three relay racers huddled together in a clump. They whispered some lovely secret, then burst apart with a cheer.

I ought to be excited, too,
Mina thought. She’d made the team, after all. She’d made it without even being an athlete.

Yet instead of running with friends, she’d be running alone, against a friend. Sure, she’d be running against the girls from the other schools, but especially against Ruth. Only one girl would win first place.

“I’m in the fifty-meter sprint,” Mina told Mom as Mom fixed celery and peanut butter for Paige.

“My goodness, what big news,” Mom said. “Such a surprise, Mina.”

Mina ran her fingertip along the sharp edge of the countertop. She wished the news was as good as Mom thought.

Mom continued: “I want to see this with my own eyes, honey. Let’s go practice at the park. I haven’t jogged in weeks. I could use a run.”

Mom handed the celery sticks to Paige. “Bring these along, sweetie.”

The park lawn had just been mowed, the marks of the tractor mower imprinted in the soft, flattened grass. A eucalyptus tree cast dark green shadows.

Paige dashed to the swings and pumped her way up.

“Fly high, little hummingbird!” Mom shouted at Paige.

Mom jogged in place, then moved onto the grass. “I feel like I have two sacks of potatoes tied to my hips!” she shouted.

Mina had to laugh. She began to sprint, passing Mom.

“Go slow,” Mom said.

But Mom’s jogging looked like a funny walk. Mina wanted to show off. She wanted Mom and Paige to see her as the champion that she was. She went once around the edge of the park as fast as she could. Then she got a cramp in her side. She bent over and pressed on her ribs, but the pain didn’t go away.

Mina sat down on a bench and observed Mom’s slow progress — twice around, three times, four times.

Paige pumped the swing as high as it could go, the chains creaking against the horizontal pole.

Mom just kept plugging along. At least Mom was still running while Mina sat, a champ with a cramp.

Finally, Mom stopped and joined Mina on the bench. She rested her forearms on her thighs, her hands clasped together, and caught her breath.

“There’s more I haven’t told you,” Mina said suddenly. She put her feet side by side so that the toes of her sneakers lined up exactly. She hadn’t planned to talk about the painful stuff.

“About the team?”

Mina squeezed her feet tightly together. “I didn’t get chosen for the relay team. Ruth’s on it, but not me.”

“Well, at least you made a team. That’s a big deal.”

Mina sighed. Could Mom understand? “But I’m running against Ruth in the fifty meter. She’s on the individual, like me. If I win, our Fellow Friends group will fall apart for sure.” Her voice grew high and thin. “If I let Ruth win, I’ll feel icky about myself.”

“I’m beginning to see.” Mom straightened up and stretched her arms across the back of the bench.

“Something important happened the other day: Ruth has always been the fastest girl, but I tied her.”

“That’s quite something, Mina. Maybe Coach put you and Ruth both on the individual to break the tie.”

“Maybe.” Mina considered Mom’s idea. “And there’s something else.” She told Mom about the running times Alana had seen on Coach’s clipboard.

Mom whistled. After a moment, she stood up and took Mina’s hand, lifting her from the bench.

The two set off across the grass. Mina jogged as slowly as Mom did. Her feet touched the grass with soft, even thuds. Gradually, she forgot about Coach and his choice, Ruth and the team, and winning and losing.

Her breathing took on a rhythm —
easy, easy, slow, slow, slow.
She became aware of all the different parts of her feet — the little bones, the padded area of the sole, the round heels. Her footsteps landed,
now and now and now.
The earth turned up to meet her steps.

At lunchtime the next day, Mina found Coach at the last table on the end. “Could I talk to you?” she asked.

He nodded and gestured to the spot in front of him.

Mina sat down and set her paper lunch bag in her lap. She began to roll and unroll the top fold.

Coach laid his sandwich on its plastic baggie while he unscrewed the top of his thermos. He poured purple juice into a cup.

Mina thought about taking out her sandwich and munching away while she chatted with Coach. But she wanted to focus completely on what she had to ask. She plunged ahead: “I’m in the individual fifty meter and I’ve never run in a track meet before.”

Coach took a bite of his cheese on whole wheat.

“I’m kind of nervous. I was wondering if I could trade with someone and run with my friend Ruth Largness on the relay team instead.” The top fold of her lunch bag was becoming as soft as an old baby blanket.

Coach swallowed and swigged his juice. “Is that the real reason, Mina?”

Mina looked around. Ruth and Sammy sat at a far table. She didn’t see Alana, who was probably looking for her. A quick glance toward the basketball court took in Cassie from the relay team, walking with friends.

Did she dare tell the truth out loud?

Coach squinted at her in the bright sunlight, as though to see her better, as though urging her to trust him.

“I’m afraid of beating Ruth. She might not be friends with me if I do.”

Coach laughed. “That’s not how most athletes would look at it. But go on.”

“I’d feel better running
with
Ruth, on the relay team, instead of against her in the individual.”

“If you beat Ruth, she can take it. She may get miffed, but she won’t fall apart.”

“But I don’t want to hurt my friend.”

“Mina,” Coach said gently, swirling the juice around and around in the cup, “there’s a lot of responsibility in running on a team. I kept you off the relay team because of your inexperience. A lot’s at stake for your teammates. Worse than running against Ruth and beating her in the individual would be to run the relay and lose the race for Ruth and the other girls. Are you prepared to take that risk?”

So Mom had been wrong. Coach hadn’t meant to set her up against Ruth. He was only protecting the team. Mina sat up straighter. “I know I’m new to sports, but I do run fast. I don’t think I’d let the team down.”

Coach finished his sandwich, balled up the baggie, and put it into his lunch box. He drained the last of the juice, leaving a line of purple above his upper lip.

“I don’t usually make changes once I’ve made up my mind.” He paused and looked at Mina.

It seemed as though he wasn’t really looking at her, but at imaginary possibilities, picturing the races and all the different outcomes, good and bad. Mina clutched the top of her lunch bag.

“I’ll tell you what, Mina. I won’t do the changing. It’ll be up to you to convince one of those girls to change with you. You have my permission to ask them.”

Mina let go of her lunch bag and stretched out her fingers.

After Coach had packed up and left, Mina found Cassie on the playground, near the basketball hoops. She was trading a cookie for a juice box.

“Can I ask you something, Cassie?” Mina still held her bag of uneaten lunch. “In private?”

Cassie got up from her friends and walked across the basketball court with Mina.