Moonglass

it away.
    Coach Martin clapped his hands together forcefully. “Okay, ladies, this is it. I know the conditions aren’t the best, but get over that. I need your heads in this race. Jill, you and Anna are going for one and two.” He looked over the rest of the girls. “We need to take as many of the top ten spots as we can, so stick together and go hard. It only hurts for three miles.” He put his hand out in the center of us, and we stacked ours on top. “Coast Breakers! Go!” Our tight circle disintegrated as we backed up and shed our ponchos. We walked as a group to the starting line, where runners from six or eight different teams jumped up and down, rubbing their arms to keep warm. The “Al blew his whistle, and we reigned in our nervous energy enough to listen as he went over the course. We had an advantage, having trained on it, but its hill s still made for a brutal race. A race that my head was definitely not in. The race “Al finished up his instructions, then walked the line, making sure we were all behind it. When he got to the other side, coaches raised their stopwatches out in front of them, thumbs hovering over the start buttons. The “Al held the gun high above his head and yelled the words that shot adrenaline through me every time. “Runners! Take your mark!” The sharp crack of the gun sent us off in a crowd of elbows and feet jostling for space. Jillian was a step ahead of me, and I focused only on staying with her. Within a few seconds the group thinned out as we took our positions with the top runners from the other teams. And then the rain started.
    It wasn’t a drop or two that made you wonder if it was really going to rain or not, building until you knew. It was like someone had taken a knife to the clouds and let loose everything in them. Instinctively we all put our heads down as we tromped over the dirt trail that would be mud within minutes.
    I thought of my dad then, out in the rain, looking for a boat that had been stupid enough to go out, despite the storm warnings, and I felt ill.
    My dad.
    The night she left, while I sat huddled in a blanket with my grandmother in our warm house, he pulled on his own dive gear and went out into the icy water to search for her. And later, while I slept, helicopters flooded light down into the black chop of winter and radioed to him that they saw nothing. And finally, as I bent in my dream to touch a hand that reached out of calm blue water, she disappeared into the cold blackness of the night, leaving behind only swirls of questions and ripples of guilt. The thought of him out there looking that night, when I knew what had happened, pricked holes in my chest, and I felt my legs waver. Jillian glanced over.
    “You slip?” She was breathing hard, red-cheeked.
    “No, I—”
    “Come on,” she huffed. “You’re slowing down.”
    I squinted and tried to match her stride as rivulets of water flowed into my eyes.
    “Come on. Run away from whatever it is. We got a hill coming up.”
    We both breathed hard, and water splashed up our legs now with each step. I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave it behind or run away anymore. I’d been the reason life wasn’t what she wanted it to be. She may have chosen it in the beginning, but the night she drowned herself, she made another choice. One that didn’t consider me, or my dad, or what we might live with afterward.
    I stopped running. Just stopped. Right in the middle of the trail.
    Immediately two runners passed me, and Jillian looked over her shoulder, completely taken aback. She didn’t have time to ask any questions, though.
    She turned and kept running, looking back once, in time to see me walk off the course.
    I inhaled slowly and willed back tears that sprung, hot, to my eyes. A short distance away I could see Ashley’s car in the parking lot, steam rising from the exhaust. Our tent was empty, and I figured everyone was out along the course, watching the second mile by now.
    I needed to get away.
    When I opened the town car door, the driver turned around, surprised. “That was quick. How’d you do?”
    “I need to go home. I don’t feel well . Could you take me?” I was still breathing hard, water running down my face.
    He looked around, confused. “Where’s Ashley?”
    “I think she’s out on the course somewhere. But I really need to go home. Could you take me real quick? Please? I’ll call her and explain when I get home.” I knew I’d owe her an apology later, but I needed