Sidetracked

ORCA BOOK PIBLISHERS

Copyright © 2012 Deb Loughead

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Loughead, Deb, 1955-
Sidetracked [electronic resource] / Deb Loughead.

(Orca sports)

Electronic monograph.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN
978-1-4598-0251-3
(PDF)
.--
ISBN
978-1-4598-0252-0
(EPUB)

I. Title. II. Series: Orca sports (Online)
PS
8573.
O
8633
S
53 2012          j
C
813'.54          
C
2012-902832-0

First published in the United States, 2012
Library of Congress Control Number:
2012938314

Summary:
Maddy's track team struggles to stay focused
after a theft and a bullying incident occur.

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Cover photography by Corbis
Author photo by Steve Loughead

www.orcabook.com

15   14   13   12   •   4   3   2   1

For Barbara Gooch,
my friend since grade ten

Contents

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen

chapter fifteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen

chapter twenty

chapter twenty-one

chapter twenty-two

chapter one

My foot is tucked up against the starting block. I'm crouched into position, waiting to hear the starter pistol go off. It's like a signal for my body. It's what triggers the rush. Beside me, Kat Jennings is crouched in the same position. She's good. And she's also my biggest rival at Eastwood High.

She has the same look on her face she always does before a race. Total focus, just like me. It's what a runner needs that split second before the race begins. You have to block out everything except your goal to cross the finish line first. In a 100-meter sprint, there's no room for error.

All eight runners are poised for takeoff. I can almost taste the tension. Our track coach raises his arm in the air. The other coaches are watching too.

“Runners, take your marks!”

There's the slightest shift along the starting line. Each grade-nine girl settles into a perfect four-point takeoff stance.

“Set!”

The muscles in my legs are like an elastic band about to snap.

Bang!

The elastic snaps, and everything is blank except my goal. I launch straight ahead, staying between the two lines that mark my lane. The only sounds are is cleats hitting the track's gritty surface. Kat and I are neck and neck. I don't care about anyone else, because we're slightly ahead of everyone. A little over twelve seconds later, Kat and I cross the finish line, practically shoulder to shoulder. Coach Reeves grins and shakes his head.

“What is it with you two anyway?” he calls out.

Kat and I are grinning too. We high-five each other, as we do at the end of every race. Not only is Kat my biggest rival, she's also my best friend. Last year she was faster than me. This year, after a lot of practice, I've finally caught up to her. For every race she wins, I win the next one. Today I won.

These early-season track practices help our coach select the fastest runners at the bantam, junior, intermediate and senior grade levels. Our bantam relay team will be made up of the four fastest grade-nine sprinters. The fastest will represent the team in the 100-meter sprint at upcoming meets. But who that will be has yet to be decided.

Some of the other kids on the track-and-field team wander over and pat us on the back. A couple of our closest friends smile from the sidelines. Isabel and Paige graduated from Wentworth Middle School with us last year. Back in middle school, we were all on the same track team. But this year, in ninth grade at Eastwood, everything has changed.

At the end of last year's track season, our coach warned us this would happen. He said that in high school, the rules of the game change and the competition is fierce. We should expect a whole new crop of athletes to compete against for spots on the team. Eastwood has a couple of different feeder schools. The track-and-field stars from those schools all want a spot on the team. Our middle school coach knew exactly what he was talking about. So many kids who were fast last year didn't even make the cut this year.

In high school there's more competition and not just on sports teams. Over the past few months, while trying to adjust to all the new competition on the track, some of our friends have drifted off to chill with other kids. Which works for me, but not so much for some of my other friends. Nothing wrong with too many friends, is what I think. But a group of us from middle school still hangs out. There's nothing like old friends.

“Come
on
,” Zenia says as she strolls up to me and Kat, still trying to catch her breath. “What are you guys putting on your Wheaties in the morning anyway?”

“I don't even eat Wheaties for breakfast,” I say. “In fact, I've never even tasted them! I'm just lucky, I guess. Must be these long toothpick legs.”

“Yeah, right.” Zenia laughs. “I know how hard you and Kat work. It's more than luck. You two were the fastest
last
year too.”

“Best friends, best runners,” Kat says. “How cool is that!”

Everyone on the track-and-field team, the other coaches included, is caught up in the drama. They gather along the track whenever our coach races the grade-nine girls. And at the end of each race, everyone cracks up.

Even the girls we just beat can't help but smile. They know Kat and I will train until it kills us in order to reach the top of our game. A lot of the time, our races are almost too close to call. So we always break even. How can Coach possibly choose the top runner with those crazy odds?

Only one girl, Shauna, never cracks a smile. At the end of each race, she only ever scowls. Every day this week, she has come in third. Her bright green eyes flash disappointment. Her fair freckled skin, which practically pleads for sunscreen, has a fine sheen of sweat, even though it's not that warm for May. She wants to win badly. She reminds me of the Canadian Olympic speed skater Clara Hughes. I'm sure Clara is way nicer than this girl though!

Shauna doesn't bother talking to any of us. She just flips her thick golden-red ponytail, which she always wears with a baseball cap, and stalks off as if she's mad at the world. What is
her
problem, I can't help but think.

chapter two

Kat sidles up beside me. “Talk about a sore loser,” she says and runs her fingers through her wavy black hair.

“The way things are going, Shauna will be one of the top four,” I remind her. “If she makes it, then we'll all be on the same relay team together. With the vibes she's giving everyone, I don't see how that can possibly work.”

“If she was as fast as her brother, our relay team would be awesome,” Kat says.

Shauna's brother Justin is rocket-fast. He's the star runner on the grade-ten team and an amazing sprinter. He leaves everyone else in his dust. He's one of the fastest guys in the whole school, in fact. There's talk that he's already being scouted by American colleges. His family must be so proud. I know more than a few guys on the team who wish they could be him.

My brother Matt is on the track-and-field team too. But shot put is his sport, as well as football in the fall. He and I are almost about the same height. At five foot ten, I guess he's pretty average for a guy. I
know
I'm tall for a girl. I'm kind of long and lanky, while my brother is built like a bull. And, boy, can he ever fling a shot put. He's so focused when he's on the field. But lately I worry about what he's up to when he's
not
on the field or at home. He's been acting sketchy the last few months.

Coach Reeves wanders over to where Kat and I and the others are standing. He looks confused and shakes his head.

“What am I going to
do
with you two? Something has to change at some point. You can't
both
represent the team in the hundred meter. Who is it going to be? Kat or Maddy?”

Kat shrugs. “Guess we'll have to try again on Monday, huh, Coach?”

“Yep,” I say. “Another day, another race. Or ten.”

There's a smirk on Coach Reeves's face. “I get the impression you two are enjoying this.” Then he shrugs. “We'll give it another try on Monday. Same time, same place. And don't wear yourselves out practicing this weekend, okay?” He wanders toward the school, still shaking his head.

“So how long are you going to keep messing with his head?” Isabel asks.

“We're not messing with his head,” I say. “We never know who will win either.”

“It's just not the same anymore, is it?” Paige says, her face glum. “There's so much talent here to compete with. Most of us are out of our league on the track now.”

“Yeah,” Zenia says. “We can't keep up to you two anymore. And Shauna's fast too. Which makes it even worse.”

“But at least we're all still on a track-and-field team together this year, right?” I say.

“God, how can you always be so positive about everything?” Isabel asks.

“Really,” Kat adds. “You're just one bright ray of sunlight today, aren't you, Maddy?”

“Hey, we all have our strengths,” I say. “We all shine at something.”

“Oh
barf
!” Paige makes a gagging sound. “Little Miss Sunshine is in the house,” she says, and everyone laughs.

As we all wander back into the school to grab our stuff before heading for home, some of the guys catch up with us. Zack and Nathaniel can't stop talking about how Kat and I keep coming up with the same number of winning races. They went to Wentworth with us, and we're still a tightknit group.

Except for our friend Carter. He hangs out with a crowd of older kids now. It's as if he's trying for a fresh start with his cool new friends in high school. Fresh doesn't mean good though. He seems to get into trouble a lot for being a goof and mouthing off. Some of the guys from last year have even tried to talk to him about it. He just laughs in their faces and calls them niner geeks. And
he's
in grade nine! It's pointless.

I take one last glance at the field before heading inside. My brother Matt hasn't shown up. He's been so distant lately. Maybe he has too much on his mind. I can hardly even look at his shot put coach, Ms. Chapman. I wish I could figure out what Matt's problem is. But it's hard when he does his best to avoid talking about anything with me.