Runner Girl

Chapter Sixteen

Cheer practice is weird; now that I know who Coach Cypri is, I feel like an idiot for not realizing sooner, and practically every time she speaks or moves, I keep waiting for one of the other girls to pop up and declare that she's a goddess. That doesn't happen, of course, and by the time we've finished drilling the routine for tomorrow's game until we're all ready to drop, I almost don't care that my coach is immortal; goddess or not, I'm ready to pass out on the gym floor and sleep for a week, and the rest of the girls look the same. I don't bother showering after practice, just swap out my sweaty shirt for a clean one and re-tie my pony tail, and then I head for the door, ready to get home and take a long, hot bath.

When I get outside the school, Rakesh is leaning against the brick building, and he peels himself off the wall as soon as he sees me. My heart starts to thump erratically, but then the unexpected spike of adrenaline that I get from seeing him is crushed with panic as I realize how completely un-date worthy I probably look. I want to run back into the gym and hide, but he's already seen me, and I silently beat myself up for not showering.

"Ready for dinner?" He asks with an easy smile as he stands in front of me.

Of course. The taco truck. I want to smack myself for forgetting; I mean, what the heck is wrong with me that I forgot a date with Rakesh? I'd bet any girl would kill to be in my shoes...but she wouldn't smell like a sweatshop. "Um," I say, searching for something witty to say that will make him think I'm just that damn confident that I didn't bother primping. "Yeah," I finally say lamely. "I could eat."

He grins at me and reaches for my heavy duffle. "May I?" He doesn't wait for me to respond before he's taken the bag off my shoulder and slung it over his own, across the strap from the athletic bag he's already carrying.

I figure I should protest or something, just to remind him that I'm a feminist and I can take care of myself, but my shoulders are aching, and it feels nice not to have to carry my bag for a minute. "So," I say trying to figure out how to make small talk without mentioning the dance that he thinks never happened, "how was practice?"

"Hard. We've got a game tomorrow, and Coach ran us into the ground."

I laugh, suddenly feeling like I'm on familiar ground. "Me, too. I mean, we're cheering at the basketball scrimmage tomorrow night, and Cypri wanted to make sure we could do the routine in our sleep."

"You should come to the soccer game before, if you want," he says, and for a minute, he almost seems shy. My insides turn to goo and my heart thumps a little louder.

"Yeah," I say, hoping I sound casual. "That could be good. And you should come to my game. I mean," I add quickly, my cheeks flushing, "the basketball game. To see me cheer. Not that I'll be cheering much, but with the cast changed, at least I don't have to use crutches, and I do know the whole routine, even if I can't do any of the gymnastics stuff..." I realize how much I'm babbling, and I trail off, embarrassed. If he had any doubt he's out with a complete loser, I think sourly, now he knows for sure.

"I'll try," he says as he flashes a smile at me.

While we've been talking, we've been walking down to the slopping river path, but instead of heading in the direction I used to take when Kary and I ran together this summer, Rakesh turns the other way and heads toward an old railroad bridge that stretches across the center of the river like it's suspended by clouds. Skyscrapers loom up on either bank, and as we get closer to the bridge, I see a handful of white tents lining it, as well as a couple of food trucks. "Some kind of festival?" I ask, feeling stupid as soon as the words leave my mouth.

Rakesh nods. "Art in the Park starts tomorrow; I guess they're setting up."

"What's that?"

"It's a week-long arts festival. Lots of stuff to look at and buy, and a bunch of hands-on activities for the kids. You should go, if you can."