Chasing Hope (10 page)

“What’s so funny?”

“That reminds me of my very first 5K. I was, I don’t know, twelve, I guess. My mother and I officially ran it together, but of course I dumped her somewhere around the starting line and ran for glory. Sort of like you today, I took off too fast and it cost me further down the road. But the leaders of the race were coming back around and they saw this spunky little twelve-year-old girl chugging along, and several of them said, ‘Good job,’ or something along those lines to me. It made me feel good and gave me the motivation to keep pushing.

“I was somewhere in the middle of the pack, so when I made the turn and started toward the finish line, I tried encouraging the people coming the other way. I said, ‘Good job,’ to this middle-aged man, and he snarled at me and said something to the effect of ‘humph.’ It really hurt my feelings at the time. I just couldn’t understand why an overweight middle-aged man wouldn’t be delighted to hear encouragement from a skinny, athletic preteen girl. Looking back on it now, it just really strikes me as hilarious.”

Brandy shook her head. “You’ve got a weird sense of humor.”

“I guess so.”

They continued walking toward the parking lot. Brandy had pulled up here with such high hopes, visions of glory in her head. Now she was leaving in total defeat. As someone who had even walked part of the race. “Maybe this running thing just isn’t for me.”

“Brandy, you have a natural gift for running. I’ve seen it, and so has Coach Thompson. The decision is up to you now, whether you’re willing to do the work to make something really special out of that gift, or whether you want to quit because it’s hard. Everyone who wants to be great at something has to work at it. Hard. Success doesn’t come overnight, either. You’ve got to make up your mind you’re going to stay the course, no matter how steep it might seem sometimes.”

“I blew it. Big time.”

“Some lessons, like pacing, you’ve got to learn the hard way. But you still finished second in your age group—behind a girl who’s likely been running four years of high school track, a girl with a potential scholarship. That’s an all right place to start.”

“Yes, but she’s a two miler, not a distance runner. This isn’t even her thing. Besides, you said that big race in Columbia in a few weeks will have five times as many people as this—I bet a lot of them are distance runners.”

“That’s right. And there will definitely be scholarship-level distance runners there, maybe even some Olympic hopefuls. What you’ve got to concentrate on is you. Whether you eventually come to beat those other runners or not, you’ve got to learn to give it your best, let everyone else do her own best, and know that in the end, your absolute best is your absolute best. Win or lose.”

“Yeah.” By now, Brandy had reached her car. She looked at Sabrina, so many arguments coming to her mind, so many things
she’d like to tell her. What came out was “See you at five o’clock on Monday.”

“Monday?” Sabrina tilted her head to the side and grinned.

“I’m thinking I could use an extra practice.”

Sabrina just looked at her, and for a minute, Brandy thought she was going to refuse. “Now that you mention it, an extra practice would be a good thing.”

W
hat did you do today?” Koen leaned his chin in one hand and looked at her, waiting for the answer.

“Me? Not much. The usual, you know, study, help Nana around the house.” Something about the nonchalant way he asked the question caused Sabrina to be uneasy, which was silly. “How about you?”

“Not much. The usual, you know, played some b-ball with the boys, avoided studying or doing anything around the apartment.” He played with her hand across the table. “So, is that all, then? You didn’t do anything else?”

Whatever uneasiness Sabrina had felt before went into an all-out alarm with the repetition of the question. She shrugged, focusing her attention on their interlocked hands rather than on his soul-piercing eyes. “Mostly.”

“Mostly.” He repeated the word quietly. “I see.”

“You see what?” This time she did look up at him.

“I heard a rumor you might have been spotted at the St. Patrick’s race this morning.”

“Who told you that?” Even as Sabrina asked the question, she already knew the answer. She’d seen several people from school there that she recognized. There was one who stood out from the rest, however—Lindy Stewart.

“Did I hear wrong?” He wasn’t being accusing or combative, but he was clearly on a mission to find out the truth. Sabrina supposed there wasn’t any reason to try to hide it.

“No, you didn’t hear wrong. I was there.”

“So what is the deal then with you and running? I saw you run after Gazelle Girl a few weeks ago, so I know you’re fast. You told me you don’t ever run, but then you go to a 5K. Do you run or don’t you?” Again, just making conversation. He had no idea how close he was getting to a truth she didn’t want to get into.

“I don’t.” She looked out the window of the pizzeria toward the street. “I just went to watch.”

“Because?”

Why couldn’t he just let this go? When she told him the truth, he would see that she wasn’t so independent and strong, and any advantage she had over the athletic Lindy Stewart would vanish. She’d lost enough from her disease. She wasn’t going to let it ruin any chance she had with Koen, too. She pulled her hand away from his. “Because I like to watch people run, okay? Is there something wrong with that?”

His head snapped back as if she’d struck him. “No. Wow, okay, so in my effort to learn more about you through casual conversation, I guess what I’ve learned is that you don’t like a lot of questions. I’ll be sure to put that one down for future reference. Maybe that’s the downside of your independent streak, hmm?” He never took the full force of his gaze away from her face.

“Look, I’m sorry. I . . .” Sabrina rubbed her forehead, trying to find the right words. “I used to run, a long time ago. I don’t anymore, and I don’t really like to talk about it.”

“O-kay.” He leaned back against the red plastic cushion of the Pizza Palace booth. “New subject.” He sat quietly, likely wondering if there were other subjects that might bring on a similar reaction and afraid to say anything, just in case.

Could this be any worse? It was the first time they’d spent an evening together in a while, and this was certainly not the way Sabrina wanted it to go. She frantically searched for something that might return some sense of normalcy to the evening. “How did you do on the psych quiz yesterday?” It wasn’t perfect, but it was all she could come up with.

“Okay, I think.”

“Haven’t you looked at your grade? She posted them last night.”

“Nah. There’s nothing I can think of that I’d rather do
less
on a Friday night than to check my grades online.”

Sabrina laughed, and then they fell into another awkward silence. The waitress refilled their sodas, asked if they needed anything else, then cleared the plates. Plastic plates clinked against metal forks, providing the only sound. In the booth behind them, a man let out a bellowing laugh, rocking back against his seat hard enough that Sabrina’s seat shook with the force.

“You ready to go?” Koen stood and offered his hand, which Sabrina took, hoping to restore something of their former magic.

When they got almost to his truck, she stopped and turned. “Listen, I was at the race this morning watching, like I said. I’m sort of coaching Brandy—Gazelle Girl, as you call her—and this was her first 5K. That’s why I was there. I . . . well, I’m sorry I was so snippy with my answer.”

“Coaching her?” The surprise in his voice was quickly squelched by the pained look on his face. “Oh, sorry. Forgot, I’m not supposed to ask questions about that. Do you want to drive over to Jared’s? He’s having a bunch of people over—he told me we should drop by.”

“I . . . uh . . . sure, I guess so.”

He opened the door and held it while she climbed in, his piercing eyes seemingly searching her face for clues. Still, he didn’t ask, he simply shut the door and walked about to the driver’s side.

She knew she should say something, tell him about what happened, but somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want his pity, couldn’t stand the thought of it. So she would keep her silence and hopefully he would be all right with that. Only time would tell.

S
he was running, leading the pack, but the sound of feet pounding against pavement came from close behind. She pushed harder to keep her lead. The finish line was just ahead, less than ten paces away. Her foot caught on something and she flew forward, her entire body launched into an uncontrollable free fall. The asphalt loomed closer and closer, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her face crashed hard, followed by the rest of her body. She could still hear the approaching runner behind her and knew that she needed to get up quickly, but before she could, she was slammed down again, the entire weight of her competitor’s shoe landing between her shoulder blades. The other runner never slowed, never gave any indication of remorse for running across Sabrina’s back on the way to victory. Sabrina looked up at the finish line to see who could have done such a thing. She couldn’t believe who she saw there.

Brandy.

Brandy jumped up and down in victory, her fists pumping the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Koen was standing by, watching the entire scene, shaking his head in disgust at Sabrina’s failure. He turned, put his arm around Lindy Stewart, and walked away.

Sabrina woke up drenched with sweat, her pillow soaked with tears. Again. The bedside clock said three a.m., but to fall back asleep meant the potential for another dream. She pulled out a book and tried to study, but found it impossible to concentrate. How much more of this could she take before she fell apart? Something told her she was about to find out.

For whatever reason—perhaps Rita Leyva’s repeated contact—she started thinking about the position at Bridges. That was totally not the way she had her life planned, but something about Rita’s mission had struck a nerve deep inside her. She thought about returning to Egypt, the children of Israel, all of it.

Since she couldn’t sleep anyway, she got up and went to the box in the very top of her closet. She hadn’t opened it in several years, but still she kept it nearby. She pulled it down, opened the top, and dug through the old journals until she found the one that she knew contained her thoughts about the Exodus, the ones she’d used to create that embarrassment of a devotional she’d been so proud of when she was seventeen. She flipped through mindlessly, finally stopping on a page to read that day’s entry.

Oct. 17— The children of Israel have crossed the Red Sea, the Egyptian soldiers who pursued them have all drowned, and now they’re moving out toward their destination. But three days later, they haven’t come across any water. So they grumbled against Moses.

My thoughts—THREE DAYS WITH NO WATER? Even if they had a supply when they started, I’m assuming they’ve still gone a significant time without anything to drink. Wow. Talk about a painful, aching thirst. I’d always thought they
were whiners, never really occurred to me until now that they had significant pain. Need to spend some time thinking about what they should have done in this situation. Obviously grumbling against Moses wasn’t the correct response, but when you’re that thirsty, what are you supposed to do?

The answer must begin with looking back at all God had already done for them and giving thanks, then continuing to move forward in faith.

Sabrina couldn’t read any more. Everything inside her felt raw and tender, and reading this, remembering the serenity she’d once felt and the deep faith she’d once had, well, it wasn’t helping anything. Those words had been written by a naïve teenager who had thought life would always work out the way she’d planned. For whatever reason, she didn’t return the journal to its box. She put it in a drawer at her bedside table, fully intending never to look at it again.

Six hours later, Sabrina was about to be late for her first class. Worse, every parking space looked filled, as was every available open space of curb. Dozens of students were hurrying toward brick buildings, looking at their watches and moving a little faster.

Sabrina’s neck and shoulders ached from the tension across them as she turned the corner down the very last aisle of the lot, hoping for the miracle of an empty space. She drove the length of it as quickly as she dared, already knowing that it was useless. She’d have to go find a parking spot on the street somewhere.

She hated being late. Despised it. Enough so that she was never late. Never. Ever. Until this morning.

Things needed to change. She couldn’t keep doing what she
was doing right now. She’d hardly slept the last two nights, and when she did fall asleep she had the same disturbing dreams over and over and over. It wasn’t real, but it
felt
real.

A girl emerged from between two parked SUVs and was suddenly in the road ahead of Sabrina, although she was too busy texting to notice. Sabrina slammed on her brakes, causing her tires to let out a brief squeal. The girl looked up. “Watch it. You need to slow down.” She cast a fearsome scowl in Sabrina’s direction, then started in the general direction of the science building, texting as she went.

I can’t continue like this.

Sabrina exited the parking lot and had to drive for over a block before she found a spot she could pull into. She was definitely going to be late for class. She locked her car, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and started toward the communications building. She was almost there when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket.

Normally she would have ignored the call at a time like this, but for some reason—reflex perhaps—she pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. It was a number she didn’t recognize, but the area code was from Georgia. Out of curiosity, she pushed the button. “Hello.”

“Is this Sabrina Rice?”

“Yes.”

“Hello, my name is Kim Gilbert with the Grace Rose PR firm in Atlanta.”

Sabrina’s feet planted firmly on the sidewalk. “Oh, hello.” What else was she supposed to say? She was sure there was something, but she couldn’t think of it at the moment.

“We were wondering if it would be possible to move your interview up. We’ve got you scheduled to be here on the twenty-ninth, but one of our partners has had a schedule change, and
we’d really like you to come next Monday, a week from today, if you are available.”

“Next Monday?” Sabrina thought of all the things she had hoped to do to be fully prepared for this interview. It was going to be a challenge to do all that now, but it wasn’t like she was going to tell them she couldn’t handle this. “Sure. Of course, that sounds great.”

“Terrific. We’ll see you here Monday at eight a.m. We look forward to meeting you.” And just that fast, she was off the line and Sabrina was left wondering how she could manage to have everything ready on time. Somehow, she would find a way.

Little goals were the things that usually kept Brandy moving forward. “I’ll run as hard as I can to that mailbox” or “I’ll go for an extra minute after I want to stop” or “I’ll beat the neighbor’s car around the corner.” Today she had one goal, one large goal only, and that was to get a positive response from Sabrina. That girl had more or less checked out Monday and today was no different. She seemed hardly even aware that Brandy was present, much less running circles around her.

Brandy had been training extra hard with not a single comment from Sabrina, good or bad. Today, for the two-mile timed run, she planned to smash her previous best time, thereby forcing Sabrina to say something. She used the very last ounce of energy to lean hard toward the crack in the sidewalk that served as the imaginary finish line. She blasted across it, then looked toward Sabrina, ready to hear the exclamation.

Sabrina was sitting on the retaining wall with her laptop open, looking at the screen and shaking her head. This had been her common position all week long.

Brandy ran up directly in front of her. “Well?”

Sabrina looked up. “What? Oh, sorry.” She looked down at the stopwatch then.

Okay, this time would be several seconds late, but in spite of that, Brandy was more than confident she’d still achieved her goal. She couldn’t wait to see the look of surprise on Sabrina’s face. Yes, there it was, a double blink as she looked at the stopwatch. “Oh no.”

This was not exactly the reaction Brandy had expected. “What?”

“I must have forgotten to push the button when you started. I totally missed the time on this one.”

“You are kidding me.” Every muscle in Brandy’s legs screamed in protest and her lungs burned out their own complaint. To have worked so hard for nothing. Well, not nothing perhaps, but her strongest piece of ammunition for what she planned to ask next had just been taken away from her.

“Sorry.” Sabrina sounded more annoyed than sorry.

“That would have been my best time, I’m sure of it.”

“Really? Well, good for you. Next Wednesday we’ll do another timed run and you can prove it. In the meantime, I’ll see you Friday and then you’ve got a long weekend to work out without me. I won’t be back from Atlanta until Monday night, so you’ll be free of me until Wednesday.”

Sabrina was pulling away from her, just like everyone did. This time though, Brandy was determined that she was going to hold on. She wasn’t going to let someone else do this to her—not without a fight, anyway. “Which reminds me, I’ve got a better plan.”

“A better plan than what?”

“You’re going to Atlanta Saturday, right?”

“Yep, I’m leaving early. That’s why there’s not a Saturday run this week.”

“Right. But I’m thinking maybe there should be one.”

“Good for you. You can certainly train without me here. In fact, you should.”

“Well, here’s the thing. I went online last night and started looking around. There’s a 5K in Atlanta on Sunday morning. I could go with you and run in it.”

Sabrina was shaking her head in a big sweeping no. “Brandy, I’m not going to Atlanta to relax. In fact, I’m going on Saturday so that I can have a day to prepare for my interview, plus drive around the area so I’ll be able to get to the right building on time without getting lost. I need some serious focus time.”

“But this would give me a chance to run with other people where I’m not trying to show the kids at my school how fast I can start or any of that. It would just be me as a runner against other runners that I’ve never seen before. How about if I come down with you on Saturday, then on Sunday after the race I’ll catch the bus home? It would be terrific practice for the upcoming Columbia run—it would give me an edge.”

Sabrina leaned forward, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand, still shaking her head no. “Brandy, I can’t.”

“I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. I’ve given up everything that I was so that I could do this, so that I could finally become someone that people might notice again. How can you just throw me over just because you’ve got a stinking job interview? You’re just like everyone else.” Brandy jerked up her water bottle from beside Sabrina on the wall. “Thanks for all your
help
. No need to inconvenience yourself by working with me Friday, I know you’ve got lots more important things to be doing.” She turned toward her grandmother’s house and began to run for all she was worth—which apparently was not all that much.