Coach Part II

We didn't talk until we passed the giant Spartan statue in the student common area.

"Do you think he was actually serious?" Lynnea asked with a half-hopeful tone. "He wouldn't actually leave our senior year, would he?"

I looked down at my feet, hoping I could somehow convince both of us that he would come back. "It looks like he's really leaving, Lynnea." I paused. We had reached the stairs and I needed to go talk to Mrs. Montague upstairs. "Where are you going now?"

"Oh, I've got practice." She shrugged to indicate the huge track bag hanging from her shoulder and nodded in the direction of the training room. "We miss you at practice. Are you sure you're not going to run this year?"

Turning up the stairs, I laughed. "I can't run track. I love to run and I love you guys, but you know how much I hate the meets. I don't bring the competitive fire the team needs."

Maybe she didn't hear me. It didn't matter. Neither of us were actually thinking about track, and she left to start practice. I trudged up the stairs and later, after talking to Mrs. Montague, I trudged back down them, all the while thinking of Coach Schwartz and what was ahead for the team.

I walked down the main hall, so distracted I could only trust my feet to take me in the right direction to get home. What would cross country be without him? Could we still run well? Would our training falter? Would we still be the most unified team in the school? Before I realized where I had walked, I found myself in the foyer where we met for cross country practice in the fall. I thought I heard echoes of Coach's voice bouncing around the walls, mingled with faint bouts of my teammate's laughter leftover from October.

I stood in the middle of the room. I stopped. And I turned around. In an instant, I knew where I was supposed to be, and it was not my house, doing homework while my fellow runners trained for the sport I didn't like. Cutting across the foyer and into the gym, I sprinted towards the locker room.

Moments later, I was dashing to the track where Coach Creech was standing with the distance girls--my girls. Even their outlines from a distance looked forlorn. I stumbled into the group, cutting Creech off midsentence.

"Krista!" Jordan perked up, looking from me to Creech to Lynnea, a wondering smile appearing on her face. "What are you doing here!?"

I caught my breath and dropped my backpack to the ground. "I'm running track this year. I don't know why I haven't been here yet." I beamed around at the girls, and each returned the look.

"We don't either, Kris." Lynnea put her arm around me and we smiled. "Let's go for a run."