Relay Race Breakdown, page 1
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1: The Deal
Chapter 2: Meet the Team
Chapter 3: A Way Out
Chapter 4: Mom’s Advice
Chapter 5: Coming Clean
Chapter 6: Hit the Ground Running
Chapter 7: Changing It Up
Chapter 8: A Hard Save
Chapter 9: The Final Push
CHAPTER 1
THE DEAL
Nick Reyes peered around the corner at the end of a long hallway at Central Junior High School. He looked left, then right. The coast was clear.
Nick sighed in relief. He was hiding out. In fact, he’d been hiding out all day, ever since his gym teacher, Mr. Swanson, had asked to talk to him after class. Nick was pretty sure he knew why. It was about his running. Or, more likely, lack of running.
Normally Nick liked gym well enough, but last month they’d done a cross-country unit. Nick hated running. He knew he was terrible at it. He always felt like the slowest kid in class. It was embarrassing.
Luckily, he only had gym once a week. He’d managed to get out of running with one excuse or another each time they ran. But he was out of excuses.
Nick had avoided Mr. Swanson all day. By now, he should have been out of the school and home free, but he’d forgotten a book in his locker.
Just get the book, and you’re home free, Nick thought. He peered around the corner and got ready to make his move.
Just then, he heard footsteps behind him. “Hey there, Nick,” a voice called. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Nick turned around to see Mr. Swanson standing behind him, holding a clipboard. He didn’t look happy.
Oh, no, Nick thought. I almost made it.
“I thought I asked you to stop in and talk to me after class,” Mr. Swanson said. He tapped his clipboard with a pen. “We have a small problem. I don’t have any kind of grade for you on the cross-country portion of the class.”
Nick sighed. He knew Mr. Swanson had noticed.
“You didn’t run the mile with the rest of the class,” Mr. Swanson said. “In fact, I have you marked absent every time we ran. We never scheduled a make-up run.”
Nick gulped. “You want me to run the mile?” he asked. “Right now?”
Mr. Swanson shook his head. “No, not right now,” he said. “But you do need to make it up. I have an offer for you. Did you hear what happened to Ben Cribbage?”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “Someone said he sprained his ankle last weekend.”
Mr. Swanson nodded. “Ben was supposed to run in a relay race at the end of the month,” he said. “Now the track team is short one runner.”
“That’s too bad,” Nick said. When Mr. Swanson didn’t say anything, it hit him. “Wait … you want me to run in Ben’s place? Me?”
“I do,” Mr. Swanson said. “The race is a 4-by-200-meter relay with three other guys. You’ll only have to run 200 meters. That’s only about an eighth of a mile.”
Nick thought about it. He didn’t like the idea, but running a whole mile by himself sounded worse.
“I’m not really a track guy,” Nick said. “I’m not very good. I doubt the rest of the guys will want me on their team, especially if this is some big race.”
Mr. Swanson folded his arms. “Run the race and I’ll pass you, Nick,” he said firmly. “Or you can do the mile. It’s up to you.”
Nick looked down at the floor. He knew he didn’t have much of a choice. After a moment, he looked up and nodded.
“Okay,” Nick said. “I’ll do it.”
“Great,” Mr. Swanson replied. “The team has practice tomorrow after school. You can start then.”
CHAPTER 2
MEET THE TEAM
The next day, Nick’s classes dragged by. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d gotten himself into. He hated running. And he really didn’t want to run with a bunch of other guys from the track team. They’d be great. And he knew he’d be terrible.
At the end of the day, his friend Josh came up to his locker.
“You want to shoot some hoops after school?” Josh asked.
“I can’t,” Nick said as he shut his locker. “I’m have to practice for the relay race.”
“How did you get sucked into that, dude?” Josh asked.
Nick sighed and explained the whole deal to his friend. “So basically I’m joining the relay team,” he finished.
Josh shook his head and laughed. “You were tricked, Nick,” he said. “If he has you practice with those guys after school every day, you’ll end up running way more than a mile.”
“Every day?” Nick repeated.
“Did you think you were just going jog a little bit and then go home until the big race?” Josh asked. “No way. You’ll have to do all sorts of conditioning drills with them. Sprints, laps, you name it.”
Nick felt his stomach sink. “Great,” he muttered. “Just perfect.”
* * *
“Hey,” Mr. Swanson called as Nick walked outside. “There he is!”
Nick saw his gym teacher wave him over from the track surrounding the school’s football field. Nearby, three other guys waited. They were all wearing running shorts and tank tops.
Since he didn’t have a track uniform of his own, Nick wore his gym clothes from class.
I’d rather be anywhere but here, Nick thought. They’ll probably have me running all over the place.
“Sorry I’m late,” Nick muttered as he got closer.
“No worries,” Mr. Swanson said. “I want to introduce you to the guys. They’re all really glad you decided to join.”
A smaller guy stepped forward to shake Nick’s hand. “I’m Andy,” the boy said. “I run first.”
“I run when I have to,” Nick said.
Mr. Swanson smiled. “Nick’s new to relay races,” he said. “We’ll work with him and get him up to speed.”
“We’re just grateful to have a fourth runner,” the guy in glasses next to Andy said. “I’m Tyler, by the way.”
Nick nodded and waved.
“And last but not least,” Mr. Swanson said, nudging the next guy with his elbow. The boy had shaggy hair that nearly covered his eyes.
“Hey, I’m Drew,” he said. He shook his hair out of his face.
“Nice to meet you,” Nick said. “Sorry to hear about Ben.”
“We were, too,” Andy said. He glanced over at his teammates. “Especially since Ben used to run anchor.”
“Why does it matter what position Ben ran?” Nick asked. “Doesn’t everyone have to run the same amount?”
“The guy who runs anchor, or the last leg, is usually the fastest on the team,” Tyler explained. “The anchor is the one to cross the finish line with the baton. Ben used to really tear up his leg of the race when we needed him to.”
“Wow,” Nick said. “So Ben was, like, your most valuable player?”
“Definitely,” Andy said. “We’re not sure who’s going to run in his place.”
Nick nodded, but he still wondered why it was a big deal. Everyone had to run well for the team to win. Did it really matter who ran last?
“All right, guys,” Mr. Swanson said. “Let’s do some warm-up stretches to get started.”
Nick shook his head. “I’m good,” he lied. “I stretched in the locker room before.”
“We always stretch as a team,” Andy said. “Trust me, it’ll help.”
“A little more stretching won’t hurt you,” Mr. Swanson said. “It’ll give me a chance to explain how the race will work.”
Nick sighed. Looks like there’s no getting out of this, he thought.
Nick sat down on the ground and copied the other runners’ positions. He put both legs straight out in front of him and bent at the waist. Keeping his knees straight, Nick reached his fingers toward his toes. He could feel the stretch along the back of his legs in his hamstrings.
“So, Nick, like I said, we’re running the 4-by-200-meter relay,” Mr. Swanson explained. “Once around the track is 400 meters. That means you’ll be running halfway around.”
“Okay,” Nick said, looking over at the track. It didn’t look like it was that far, but he knew it would feel worse once he was running. He copied the new stretch the rest of the team was doing. He crossed his right leg over his left and twisted his body, stretching out his hip muscles.
Mr. Swanson pointed to a line at the midway mark on the track. “Andy will start there,” he said, “and run around to the other side where he’ll hand off the baton to …” Mr. Swanson hesitated. “We still need to figure out the new running order.”
“I’ll run second,” Tyler offered. He stood up from the ground and jogged across the field to the opposite side of the track.
“Tyler will run back to the first line and pass it to you, Nick,” Mr. Swanson said.
“I have to run anchor?” Drew grumbled. “Seriously?”
“This is just practice, Drew,” Mr. Swanson reminded him. “We’ll figure out who runs anchor once we see how Nick does.”
Don’t count on me, Nick thought. You definitely don’t want me running last.
Drew sighed. Nick could tell he wasn’t happy about having to run anchor. But Drew stood up and crossed the field to stand near Tyler.
Mr. Swanson handed the baton to Andy. The baton looked like a small silver stick of dynamite without the fuse.
“Make sure you have a good handoff,” he told Nick. “That’s one of the most important parts of a relay race. If the baton falls into another ru
“Does that happen?” Nick asked. I don’t want to be the one to drop the baton and get us disqualified, he thought nervously.
“Sometimes,” Andy said. “You get so focused on running, and the next thing you know, the baton’s on the ground.”
“Let’s have you two get into position on this side,” Mr. Swanson said. He turned to Nick. “See that line about four steps behind you? When you see Tyler hit that mark, start running to receive the handoff. That way you’ll be in the passing zone.”
Nick looked confused. “What’s the passing zone?” he asked.
“It’s the area you have to pass the baton in,” Mr. Swanson explained. “You have to do it in that 20-meter space, or the team is disqualified. Make sure you’re looking straight ahead, and hold your right hand straight out behind you at hip height. As soon as you feel the baton in your hand, start running as fast as you can.”
Great, Nick thought. One more thing for me to mess up.
Once they were all in position around the track, Mr. Swanson stepped off to the side of the track near Nick and Andy. He pulled out a starting gun and shot it to signal the start.
Andy took off with the baton in his hand. He ran so fast, his legs were a blur. It looked like Andy was flying. In no time, Andy was rounding the turn to where Tyler stood waiting. As Andy got closer, Tyler started jogging and reached behind him. In no time, the baton was in his hand, and Tyler ran with it.
“Get ready,” Mr. Swanson called from the sidelines. “Start running like Tyler did, and watch for him to come around the curve.”
Nick didn’t feel ready at all, but he started jogging. He heard Tyler’s feet thundering along the track. Tyler ran closer and closer.
“Here it comes,” Mr. Swanson shouted. “Watch for the handoff!”
Nick ran. He could hear Tyler close behind him.
“Stick,” Tyler shouted. A moment later, the metal baton slapped Nick’s palm.
But before Nick could close his hand, the baton dropped to the ground. It bounced across three lanes.
Mr. Swanson blew his whistle. “You’re disqualified,” he said.
Great, Nick thought. I’m even worse than I thought.
CHAPTER 3
A WAY OUT
Mr. Swanson wasn’t upset that Nick dropped the baton, but he made him run his 200 meters anyway. It hadn’t ended there. For the rest of practice they’d done conditioning work: sprints, lunges, and squats. Plus laps — lots and lots of laps.
“See you tomorrow, Nick,” Mr. Swanson said. “Don’t forget, we have practice every day until the meet.”
Just like Josh warned me, Nick thought.
When Nick got home, he was drenched with sweat and exhausted. He dropped his backpack in the entryway.
“Wow,” his mom said. “What happened to you?”
“I got roped into being on the track team,” Nick mumbled as he went upstairs.
Nick headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. How can people actually like running? he thought. Every day?
Nick leaned against the wall while he waited for the water to warm up. Even though Coach had made them stretch at the beginning and end of practice, every muscle in his body ached. His clothes were soaked. He had blisters on his feet from where his running shoes had rubbed, and his legs felt like rubber.
To make matters worse, he’d fumbled the handoff repeatedly. He’d felt like he was slowing the entire team down during practice.
It’s official, Nick thought. Running is the worst. And I’m the worst at it.
Nick opened the cabinet and rooted through the basket his mom kept the first aid stuff in. Behind the box of bandages, Nick noticed the brown roll of fabric held together with a small silver clasp.
An ACE bandage. His mom had twisted her ankle years ago in the garden, and she’d used it to wrap up her swollen foot.
Ben can’t race because he sprained his ankle, Nick thought. If the team thinks I’m injured, that means I can’t run either. They’ll probably be relieved. I’m slowing everyone else down anyway.
Nick smiled. He might have found a way to get out of running after all.
* * *
The next morning at school, Nick knocked on Mr. Swanson’s office door. Nick balanced carefully himself on the crutches and made sure to keep his bandaged foot up. After a moment, the door opened.
“Nick,” Mr. Swanson said, looking upset. “What happened?”
“I decided to run some more after practice last night,” Nick said, feeling his neck grow hot. I’m a terrible liar, he thought. “I ran around a corner, and my shoe caught a patch of sand. I slipped and twisted my ankle pretty bad.”
“This is terrible,” Mr. Swanson said. “The guys are going to be crushed.”
“Really?” Nick asked. “I wasn’t all that good last night.”
“That’s not true,” Mr. Swanson replied. “You did a good job for your first practice. It just takes a while to get the handoff down. And you had some decent running times. 30 seconds for 200 meters is pretty good for a beginner.” He let out a deep sigh. He shook his head and gazed down at Nick’s bandaged foot. “I’ll let them know.”
“Tell them I’m sorry,” Nick said.
Mr. Swanson nodded. “Take care of that ankle,” he added.
Nick felt a wave of guilt wash over him. I’ll get over it, he thought. It’s worth it to not have to run anymore. He turned around on his mom’s crutches and winced. They hurt his armpits.
“Before I forget,” Mr. Swanson called. “I’ll need a doctor’s note, too, okay? We have to have one for these kinds of things.”
“Oh,” Nick said. “I don’t have it with me.”
“No worries,” Mr. Swanson said. “Just bring it tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 4
MOM’S ADVICE
By the time Nick got home from school, his armpits ached from rubbing on the crutches all day. Even though his ankle was fine, he’d had to keep pretending his ankle was sprained. Once he was inside, he headed into his room. He quickly hid the crutches in his closet.
Now I’m really stuck, Nick thought as he flopped down onto his bed. What have I gotten myself into?
Nick sat down at his desk. He found a piece of paper and tried to come up with a believable doctor’s note.
TO NICK’S GYM TEACHER: NICK HAS A SPRAINED ANKLE AND CAN’T RUN.
THANKS, DR. STEPHENS
Nick read the note out loud and crumpled it up. No one would believe that. He tried different versions, but each one sounded worse than the last. The writing looked wrong, and the note didn’t even have a doctor’s signature.
Nick thought about the other guys on the team. They were probably practicing without him right now. Nick wondered if they were upset that he wasn’t there. He felt bad, but he didn’t know what else to do. He absolutely hated running.
“Nick?” his mom called. “Are you home?” He heard footsteps on the stairs, and then his mom opened the door. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said.
“I’m here,” Nick said. “I guess I was just extra quiet.”
“What happened to your ankle?” his mom asked, coming into the room. She pointed at the brown ACE bandage, which was still wrapped around his ankle. “Did you get hurt during track practice?”
Nick took a deep breath. Then he explained how he’d faked his injury to get out of running the relay race.
“I don’t know what to do,” Nick said. “If I tell Mr. Swanson the truth, he’s going to be so mad at me. But if I don’t, he’ll know I was faking it when I don’t have a note. I’m stuck.”
Nick’s mom sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “What do you think you should do?” she asked.
“Could we move to a new town?” Nick suggested. “Maybe I could go to a different school?”
Mom shook her head and smiled.
Nick sighed. “I’ll tell the truth,” he said.
His mom nodded, but then she raised her eyebrows. “That’s a start,” she said. “But Mr. Swanson isn’t the only one you need to come clean with.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right. The guys on the relay team are going to think I’m the worst.”
“Maybe not,” Mom said. “Not if you make it up to them.”
