Read What Would Emma Do? Online
Authors: Eileen Cook
Given only two options, it shouldn’t have seemed so complicated, and at the same time, it was. I can’t remember a time I haven’t known Colin, and although I hated that everyone was always trying to fix us up, I think I had assumed we would go out at some point. There is no doubt Colin is good-looking. He has a sort of Zac Efron, guy-next-door thing going on. Then there’s the fact that all the work on his parents’ farm, plus football, has given him a pretty darn nice body. Not that I’ve spent a lot of time checking him out, but a girl can tell. Colin is smart, and his idea of humor doesn’t rely on fart jokes. I liked that about him. I liked that he could make me laugh, and how we could be together and not talk about anything and still have a good time. I never wanted to risk our friendship with mucking things up, but in the end I guess he felt that he belonged to me. That he was mine.
Then there were all the reasons not to like Colin (separate from the whole ruining-my-life aspect of him dating my best friend). Colin loved Wheaton. Sure, he might act like it bugged him once in a while, and it’s possible it did bug him, but in the end this was home. Colin would hate Chicago, and I would hate staying here, so it left us in this position where we didn’t want the same things at all. Colin hadn’t even bothered applying to any college. He figured he’d just take a few classes at one of the community colleges. Not as a fallback safety plan, but as his main plan. Granted, I had no plan B if the scholarship at Northwestern didn’t work out, but at least my plan was ambitious. Who has the community college that accepts anyone as their plan? Was having a good time with someone right now the same as wanting to be with that person sometime later? Where would we go from here? High school would be over in a few months. What then? What’s the point? To say that we did? To see what would happen, when we sort of know what would happen?
I could argue that there was no reason to like Colin at all, just fond memories of an old friend. An old friend who just happens to be hot. Friends can be hot, but it doesn’t mean that you have to act on it, that it causes you to feel anything. The problem was, I couldn’t argue with the fact that I felt something.
I rolled over. Even if I could sort out how I felt, then there was the issue of how Joann would respond to this revelation. If I told Joann that Colin and I were destined to be together and that we were going to be a couple, there were a few ways she could respond:
I wondered what Colin would do. Would he break up with Joann regardless of what I decided? Would he tell her he harbored these feelings for me? What if he had already told her? What was that going to do to Joann? Colin was her first real boyfriend, as I don’t think we can count Barry, who used to push her down and kiss her when we were in fourth grade. Playground violence does not a relationship make, even on the Jerry Springer show. I rolled over again.
Was Colin lying at home tossing and turning too, or was he doing the guy thing and not even noticing at all?
Lastly, even if I sorted out how I felt and survived the fire from Joann’s eyes, there was still the fact I would have to live with myself, and I wasn’t sure I could do that. Which brought me pretty much back around to where I started. Liking him, not liking him, and not able to really do either very well.
9
God, here’s a question for you: There are winners and losers, and I’m pretty much betting everyone is praying to be the winner, so how do you decide whose prayer to grant? You can’t fool me that it’s always the most deserving, so there must be some other criteria. Not that I’m trying to imply you can be bought off, but if there was something that made you more inclined to favor one prayer over another, I would be open to hearing about it.
Someday when I appear on the
Today
show to talk to Matt Lauer about my Olympic win, I will have one nice thing to say about Wheaton: It’s where I learned to run. Wheaton has no public transportation—unless you count Mr. Kundert, who drives his tractor
everywhere
and will pick you up if you’re walking by the side of the road. If you don’t want to wait for the tractor train, then you have to either rely on your parents to give you a ride, own a bike, or get your own car. Or you hoof it.
The track meet was in Van Wert. I stood near the blocks, shaking my legs and ignoring everyone else. Track is one part speed, one part guts, and one part psychology. You need to focus before a race. Find your inner Zen kind of thing. Visualize yourself crossing the finish line way out in front of everyone else. The girl on my left apparently didn’t get the memo, because she kept blathering on. It was like she had Tourette’s and was incapable of shutting up.
“I love your shoes! They match our uniforms. Isn’t that funny, I mean that they would match our uniforms versus yours? Are they Nikes? I love Nike. I think it’s the swoosh. I tell myself I’m going to swoosh.” She giggled.
I looked over. She wore her hair in pigtails. Pigtails. It’s debatable if one should ever wear pigtails over the age of seven, but certainly not to a track meet. Do you see serious athletes wearing pigtails? I rest my case.
“Is my number on straight? I can’t tell.” She picked at the pins that held her number to her chest.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said.
“Huh?”
I placed my foot in the blocks and took a deep breath. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog out of my brain. I was tired and could feel a headache starting from the lack of sleep. Thanks, Colin.
“It doesn’t matter if your number is on straight, because I won’t be able to see it.” I shot her a look with a smile. “I’ll be in front of you the whole way.”
“READY?” The call came out over the PA system. I felt my heart slow down and my vision narrow. I pulled in deep, slow breaths. I could smell the cut grass from the soccer field next door. I kept my eyes on the track ahead of me. I could hear a hum, which would have been Pigtails chattering, but I wasn’t focused on her anymore.
The starter pistol went off, and I shot out of the blocks. I could feel everything slide past me. I had been training this year with ankle and wrist weights, so when I ran without them during the meets I felt lighter than air. The only thing I could hear was my heart and the sound of my shoes (Asics, by the way—they kick Nike ass) hitting the track and pushing me forward. On the final corner I could see a flash of color out of the corner of my eye. Someone was really piling it on. My breath was ragged and my legs felt heavy. I closed my eyes for just an instant and pictured Chicago in front of me and Wheaton behind me. My legs found the extra steam and pushed through the last few meters. I heard the whistles and cheers, but I couldn’t tell who won. I slowed down and walked bent over, sucking in deep breaths. I could see Pigtails cross the line last. I was right; her number didn’t matter. I looked up to see Coach Attley punching the air with a victory fist. Looked like a win. I let myself break into a smile.
“PROCTOR!”
I yanked my head around to see who was cheering for me. No one comes to my track meets. Fair enough, watching people run around in a circle isn’t the most exciting thing. My mom sometimes comes to the big regional meets, but otherwise my only cheering section was the other members of the track team. The rest of the student body at TES couldn’t be bothered. As far as they were concerned there were only two sports: basketball and football. Track was what people did to stay in shape for other sports or to have something to list on their college apps. I was the only one who took it seriously.
Colin was standing by the fence. He gave a wave. Colin was here. Colin was at my meet. Even though the race was over, my heart sped up again, and I felt myself give a huge smile. Was this a sign? Maybe sometimes you have to take a risk without worrying about the potential disaster. I shouldn’t assume things have to go badly. We needed to talk. I saw a few people jostling for position around the fence line. Was it?
It was.
Joann had woven her way through the crowd to Colin. They stood together, waving and cheering. They were waving so wildly it looked like they were trying to flag down low-flying aircraft. The smile dropped off my face. I waved but didn’t go over right away. I went over to our bench and grabbed my water bottle and warm-up gear. I needed a second. By the time I jogged back, they were already standing at the gate. Holding hands. Not that it mattered.
“Did you hear?” Joann asked as soon as I got close.
“Hear what?” I looked back and forth between the two of them. Colin wouldn’t meet my eyes, but he threw his arm around Joann as if staking a claim. My chest felt tight again, as if I still hadn’t gotten my breath back.
“Kimberly Ryan is in the hospital. She was staying the night at Darci’s house, and apparently she had some kind of seizure or something,” said Joann, her eyes wide. “Everyone is freaking out.”
I opened my mouth to give my opinion that there was nothing wrong with Kimberly that a few hours of sobriety wouldn’t cure, when Colin caught my eye, shaking his head slightly. Right. If I wasn’t at the Barn last night, then I didn’t see anything. I swallowed down my comment. Joann’s face was flushed; she was loving the drama. Nothing a small town likes better then drama.
“Wow,” I mumbled, at a loss to say anything of any use.
“She still hasn’t come around. Reverend Evers is planning a prayer meeting at the church for her, and everybody is going.”
“Why bother with modern medicine when you’ve got the power of prayer on your side?” I said. Joann pulled back as if I had slapped her. I could feel my headache coming back.
“They’re asking for all of her friends to be there,” Colin added.
“We aren’t really friends,” I said.
“At a time like this, all of us are friends,” Joann said. She saw my expression. “I know she can be a pain, but this could be serious. Healthy girls don’t just pass out and not wake up.”
“Yeah. It’s a mystery, all right.” I watched Colin; he looked straight at me with his chin thrust out.
Joann was gesturing to Colin’s truck and didn’t notice. “We’re driving into Fort Wayne to pick up a lunch meat tray and sheet cake from the Meijer’s to take over to the hospital.”
There’s a long-standing belief in small towns that there is very little that can’t be made better by a potluck. Funerals, weddings, Girl Scout meetings, you name it, add a spiral honey-baked ham and you’ve got a party. If people were buying food in bulk, then it truly was a serious event.
“We came down to get you so we could go together,” Joann said.
I pictured myself sitting in the truck sandwiched between the two of them. It was enough to put a girl off her processed lunch meat.
“I have to wait until the end for the medals. I won my race.”
“Do you have to?” she asked, disappointment in her voice. I’m sure both of them were on the verge of congratulating me on my big win, except for the more pressing need to rush to the side of someone they didn’t even like that much. Both of them knew how much track mattered to me, and neither of them could work themselves up to express even the slightest interest. Hell, they didn’t have to really
be
interested, but would it be asking too much for them to
act
interested? I certainly did plenty of acting in our relationships; you’d think they could return the favor.
“I should go back with the rest of the team.” I shrugged and wiped the sweat off my face. I’ll bet I smelled foul. Joann and Colin both looked perfect, like some kind of ad for wholesome teens. If you were playing the game of which one of these things doesn’t belong, you could have a massive brain injury and still pick me out of the lineup as the odd one out. I couldn’t believe I gave up sleep for this. What the hell had I been thinking?
“You sure? We could wait if you need to stay a bit longer,” Joann offered.
“No, you guys better go. You don’t want to hold up the sheet cake.”
“You okay? You seem upset.”
“Yeah, what’s the problem? You won, didn’t you?” Colin added, his voice leaning toward bitterness.
“I’m the winner, all right.” I turned away from both of them and looked back at the track team. “I’m fine, just focused.”
“Well, maybe we should go before we distract you, huh?” Colin said.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” I said, fighting the urge to stick my tongue out at him.
I watched them for a minute as they went back to the truck. Joann was keyed up from all the drama and excitement. She was practically skipping; the only thing that kept her tethered to the ground was Colin’s hand. They made a great couple.
10
God, are you still paying attention? In fairness, I got bored with
Lost
after the first season, and
24
got weird after a few years too. There are only so many nuclear bombs that can go off before you start thinking there has to be something more upbeat to watch. And don’t even get me started on
America’s Next Top Model.
After season three, even Tyra’s hair extensions look tired. So I figure if I get bored with a show after a few years, you must get sick of keeping an eye on everything down here. A few millennia of watching
Earth: The World’s Only Real Reality TV—
it’s understandable that you’re sick of it. However, and don’t take this as a criticism, it is kind of your job, and if I’m not mistaken, lately it seems like you haven’t had your eye on the ball. You might want to tune in.