Read Online What They Always Tell Us by Martin Wilson - Free Book Online Page A

Nathen says. “I mean, you need to train more and get better, for sure. But I bet he’d want you on the team next semester. We need a full team to be competitive.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I guess it would beat gym class.”
    “Hell, yeah—sixth-period athletics rocks. Seriously. Plus, we get to go to meets in Birmingham and Mobile and other places. It’s fun. It’s a good group of guys. You’d like them.”
    “So you’ll really talk to your coach?”
    “I said I would. Unless you don’t want me to.”
    “No, that would be cool.” Alex suddenly envisions himself running triumphantly across a finish line, bursting that red tape, his arms raised in glory. “But Mom will be mad if I’m not home for dinner.”
    “Yeah, I guess we should get back.” He propels himself up and stands and shakes his limbs. Nathen is Alex’s height, lean-limbed, but muscular up top, with broad shoulders and a defined chest that pokes out a little, just like James’s.
    Alex stands, dreading the walk home—and it will be a walk, because he can’t possibly run anymore. But when Nathen starts to jog off, shouting for him to get moving, he somehow summons the energy to follow him back down Rice Mine Road, up through Pinehurst.
    “Okay, I’m headed this way,” Nathen says, jogging in place before hanging a left down his street. “But I’ll talk to Coach Runyon, like I said. Wait for me in the parking lot after school tomorrow. I should know something by then, okay?”
    “Okay,” Alex says, “that’s great.”
    “Cool. Okay, buddy, see you later.” Nathen winks at him and makes a clicking sound and then runs off, turning once to hold up his hand in a wave.
    Without Nathen to spur him on, Alex walks—back to the course, back along the trails, all the way home. He has been away for over an hour, it is dark now, and he knows his parents will be worried, wondering where he is. He smiles thinking about his very real explanation—that he was running with Nathen.
     
    The halls and walls of Central High seem a little less depressing the next day. Maybe it’s because the sun is shining outside, after days of a gray November funk. Or maybe it’s because Alex has something to look forward to. He cautions himself not to get too excited—maybe the coach won’t even let him try out—but he can’t help feeling, like it’s lodged in the pit of his stomach, a tiny kernel of hope.
    The day is a chore to get through: a government quiz on the judiciary branch. An experiment in chemistry, which beats listening to Mrs. Alexander lecture. During lunch Alex tries to study for his Spanish quiz, but he can’t focus. He thinks only of Nathen and running and the coach who holds his fate in his hands. At least Coach Runyon isn’t like the other coaches Alex knows—meatheads who teach shop and health ed, flirt creepily with the pretty girls in class, and treat the jocks like their best buddies and everyone else like negligibles who are taking up too much space. Coach Runyon teaches calculus, so Alex thinks he’s probably smart.
    On his way to Spanish Alex doesn’t see Nathen or his brother, as he usually does. Bad timing. It’s not like Nathen would have anything to report anyway. They both won’t know anything until after school, which makes study hall torturous. All day he has been a space cadet, staring out the windows, imagining himself as an actual team member, running alongside Nathen through the city streets, on running trails, around the golf course, wearing the crimson school colors.
    Finally, the bell rings and Alex gathers his stuff and heads to his car. All around him his classmates drive off or else linger at their cars, sneaking puffs of cigarettes, talking shit to each other, making plans for that night or the weekend or whenever—plans that don’t include Alex. Not that he cares.
    A few cars over, he sees Kirk chatting with Beth. Beth is petite and has wavy dark brown hair that rests on her shoulders. Alex wonders