Life in lane one

Discipline, not desire, determines your destiny

Hey everyone! I'm back(: and I know its been forever but forgive me! This chapter is a filler I guess you could say and nothing really goes on but whatever the next one will be better I promise! Vote, comment, I'd love to hear feedback!

The next few days were agonizing. I hadn't spoken to Robert since the party and he was openly avoiding me. He started having one of his guy friends pick him up and drive him to school. He didn't acknowledge me in class and he basically stopped hanging around altogether.

Tommy saw how upset I was about the whole thing and tried comforting me but all he managed to do was make me feel worse about it all. I knew it wasn't his fault, but for some reason his arm around me, his fingers laced with mine, and his lips brushing mine just reminded me of how I had hurt Robert.

My knee got better in two days. All I did was ice, heat, run, ice, heat, run, and it seemed to go back to normal, except for tightness in my knee that scared the crap out of me. Every now and again I would hear a plop sound as I bent my knee or when I stretched I would get a searing pain but it usually went away quickly. The trainers told me to try and go easy, but I couldn't. Not with Olympic qualifiers coming up. I couldn't even sleep let alone go easy.

Training for the Olympic qualifier became my outlet. I ran in the morning. I ran at practice. I ran after dinner, and sometimes I ran in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep. I had improved both my mile and 3200 times by five seconds each. Coach was bursting with joy at my progress, and my Pop thought I needed to cool it before I burnt myself out. I knew he was probably right, but I just couldn't bring myself to cut down on training. It was almost like something in my mind had snapped and all that mattered was that qualifier. I finally understood Bezzy's not eating and drinking. Eating and drinking didn't matter. Nothing mattered, but that finish line. But unlike Bezzy I always had someone there to shove food and drink down my throat when I was being daft.

The Olympic qualifier was on Friday, so needless to say when Thursday morning rolled around I was a mess of nerves. I decided to save my energy and not train Thursday. So I woke up well rested from the extended sleep that morning. I didn't feel like getting dressed for school, so I decided to bum it. I slipped into a pair of Adidas sweats and pulled a tank top on before slipping my feet into some slides. I put my school things into my track bag and pulled my hair into a high pony tail before heading down stairs for a light breakfast. I heard the odd sound of the television as I descended the stairs into the entry hall. I swung around into the kitchen and sure enough, there was my Pop, flipping whole wheat pancakes while mindlessly staring at the small TV in the corner of the kitchen counter.

"Morning Pop." I said kissing him on the cheek before plopping down on a stool at the counter.

"Morning frenchie." he gave me a smile and handed me a plate of four pancakes. I stared at him like he actually believed I could eat all of that. He chuckled and pulled two from my plate, placing them on his own stack. "Better?"

I laughed, "Much. So why aren't you at work?" I questioned while stabbing a piece of pancake.

"Oh, I decided to take the day off. I'm just not feeling it today." He looked up at me, and I noticed his tired eyes and non shaved face.

I didn't want to tell him how horrible he looked so instead I said, "Does that mean I can take the day off too?" I asked hopefully but I already knew the answer.

"You most certainly cannot. You're already missing tomorrow for the qualifier." I frowned down at my plate, "But I was meaning to ask you... Would it be alright if I came to support you tomorrow?"

I dropped my fork. My pop hadn't been to a track mean since before my mom... Ya, safe to say I was shocked, "Of course you can come pop. It'll be great to have you there."

He smiled up at me, "Great."

I hopped off the stool placing my plate into the sink, "Okay, I'll see you later" I waved to him, grabbed my bag and walked out the front door.

I closed the front door and started walking down the driveway to my car when I saw Tommy's truck parked at the curb. I found myself smiling as I walked towards the truck I loved so much. I couldn't see him in the truck so I guessed he had fallen asleep. I looked in the passenger side window and sure enough there he was sprawled out on the bench seat sleeping like the dead. I pulled at the door a couple of times until it finally unstuck. I threw my bag into the truck bed and slid in lifting Tommy's head and placing it gently on my lap. He was so knocked out that he didn't even notice. I started running my fingers through the thick curls on his head. He was so peaceful when he slept. Not arrogant, not bossy, not mean, and not annoying. I found myself thinking about all the times I spent with him as a kid, and how so many things had changed. I didn't notice I had begun to cry until a few tears dropped onto Tommy's forehead. I tried to wipe them away, but he woke up and beat me to it.

He sat up taking my face in his hand, searching my eyes for answers, "What's the matter Frenchie?" he was using his thumbs to rub away my tears.

"I don't know! I'm just scared. I don't want to disappoint my Dad or Pop when I run tomorrow, I don't want you to change anymore, and I don't want Robert to be mad at me anymore." I didn't know these things were bothering me until I had said them all out loud.

Tommy removed his hand from my face and looked at me seriously, "Frenchie your parents will always be proud of you, there's no way they couldn't be. And what do you mean you don't want me to change anymore? I'm the same guy you grew up with. Nothing has changed. Okay?" I nodded keeping my head down, "Good." Tommy slid into the driver seat and started the truck, but before we pulled out he said, "And as for the Robert thing I'm going to act like I never heard that."

That's how I knew things had changed. Tommy. My Tommy wouldn't say things like that to me. He wouldn't ditch me for the football team. I felt like an annoying whinny girlfriend in my head but I honestly felt used and hurt. I didn't cry ever and I had just done that right in front of him. I felt weak. And for the first time in almost a year, all I wanted to do was talk to my mom. Conscious or not I needed to talk to her.