Moonglass

hurt that bad … when we’re done.” She threw her backpack over her shoulder. “I can promise you this, you won’t have anything else in your mind besides the pain we’re about to feel. I think that’s why coach decided to do them today, in my honor. Or Krista’s. She used to kick everyone’s ass in these.”
    “Well, guess it’s up to you to carry on the tradition.” We headed toward the locker room.
    Jillian raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Yeah? We’ll see.”
    She was right. About the pain being the only thing in my mind. After the first mile my lungs burned and my legs quivered from the effort. I crossed the line at the same time as Jillian, and after our talk this afternoon, I did it more out of wanting to be a friend to her than feeling competitive. We jogged the next lap without talking, working on getting our breath and heart rates back to normal. At the starting line for the second mile, we shook out our legs and waited for Coach Martin’s whistle. I took off hard, getting a jump on her at first. She caught me quickly though, and just as she did, I felt the first fat drop of rain land on my cheek. By the time we rounded the turn and headed into the third lap, the sky opened up on us with an intensity that I relished.
    Time shifted and I ceased to think about anything but breathing and pushing my legs forward through the rain that blurred my vision and hid the tears that welled up, hot and fierce. And it hurt like nothing else, but as I looked at Jillian from the corner of my eye, I felt like I wasn’t alone in what I was running from.
    And that, at least, was a comfort.

CHAPTER 22
    “EAT PASTA, RUN FASTA!”
    The peppy banner hung over Jillian’s dining room table a few days later. Her mom had volunteered to host “team night” at her house a night before the Breakers Invitationall tradition and had gone all out—complete with enough spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad to feed all the teams in the meet. I watched her flit around us, winking as she heaped more noodles onto our plates, laughing heartily when we said we were full , and running Jillian around with a million tiny requests that I could see were wearing on her.
    When she asked Jillian, for the third time, to see if anyone wanted more garlic bread, it was clear she’d pushed a button. Jillian took her mom by the shoulders, forcing her to be still a moment, and said, as calmly as she could, “ Mom . You need to relax. We’re all fine. If anyone needs anything else, it’s all out here on the counter for them to get.” She swept her arm over the spread. Beth took a deep breath, pressed her lips together, and nodded, before turning to find another detail that needed attending. The brief little exchange made me wonder if her constant, smiling busyness was natural, or if it was one of the ways Beth dealt with the loss of her other daughter. Judging by Jillian’s strained mood, I guessed it was the latter. And I felt for her, having to deal with her own grief along with her mom’s. It was a lot to stand up under.
    Nobody else seemed to notice amidst the chatter and laughter of the whole team at one table. Even Coach Martin had come, and for once he let down his serious-coach demeanor to laugh with us and eat a ridiculous amount of spaghetti. After three helpings courtesy of Jill ’s mom, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up at the head of the table, clearing his throat to get our attention. When our forks clinked down onto our plates, and the chatter died down, he clapped his hands together.
    “Ladies, ladies, ladies. First off, we owe a big thank you to Jillian’s mom for this feast here. It’s a lot of work she put in to feed you girls, so let’s give her a big hand.” We all did, and the smile that spread over Beth’s face was genuinely happy. Coach went on. “Now. Let’s talk a little business about tomorrow.” Feigned groans rippled around the table, and he waved a dismissive hand. “Tomorrow’s meet isn’t a league meet, but I want you to treat it like it is. The team that wins the Breakers Invitational wins the sponsorship of the Newport Running Club, which means brand-new uniforms, shoes, and money enough for a cushy trip to Mt. Sac, when that race comes around. So we want this one. Bad.” He looked over at me and Jillian. “Jill, you and Anna are gonna lead. Keep everyone together as much as possible, and work the hill s like I know you two can, okay?” We both nodded. “All right. Now let’s