I wake up the next morning with my every nerve buzzing, as though someone replaced every bone and muscle in my body with electric wires. Butterflies churn in my stomach, and I barely can keep down the breakfast I forced myself to eat even though I'm not hungry. I know I'll need the energy later in the race.
Grandmother drives me to the school, early enough that the frost still crunches under my feet. As I step out of the car, she takes my hand and squeezes it. "We're so proud of you, Autumn. We'll be coming to watch in a few hours– I don't know why you have to get there so early."
"Thanks, Grandmother." I lean in and kiss her wrinkled cheek. "I'll see you there."
"Now go!" she says, swatting me away playfully. "The bus is waiting!"
I board the bus with Hope, and Maria follows a few minutes later and sits down next to me.
"How was talking with your mom?" I ask quietly.
"I didn't," she replies. "I woke up early and walked here before she got up." The tone of her voice says she doesn't want to talk about it anymore.
The entire bus is in almost total silence for most of the two-hour drive. Even the boys, normally a very rowdy bunch, are quiet, probably as nervous as I am. The bus ride seems to take forever, but when we finally arrive, it is over too soon. I don't just have butterflies– my stomach is churning enough for there to be several dozen chipmunks fighting in there. I'm so nervous I think I might throw up.
Maria places a comforting hand on my arm. "I'm right here," she tells me. "I'll be right next to you the whole time."
I nod, the words helping to calm my racing heartbeat a little. The panic begins again, though, as we step off the bus and the sounds of hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people reach my ears. It seems like everyone in Vermont must be here. The barrage of sounds confuses my senses, and I feel like I'm sure to walk into someone or out in front of a car, Hope unable to pull me away fast enough. Again, Maria seems to read my mind, taking my hand and placing it on her elbow, guiding me like she does in races. I can follow her more closely than I can follow Hope.
Inside the school, we find a corner to claim for our team and set down our bags. "I've got a pen!" Maria declares. "All the girls, line up!"
Confused and deciding I probably missed something everyone else was looking at, I find a place in line with the other girls. Maria places a pen in my hand. "You'll go first," she tells me, like I have any idea what that means.
Finally, she explains what's going on to Sadie, the one freshman on the team, and me. "Every year before states, we all write our names on each other's palms. You'll go down the line first, Autumn, so you don't have to worry about writing over anyone else's name by accident. When we're done, everyone will have every other team member's name written on their palm, as a reminder during the race of who you're running for."
I walk down the line, writing my name on each person's palm, then feeling the tickle of the pen on my hand as they each do the same. We may be seven different girls, but today we are one team with one goal.
The warm-up seems to fly by, and before I know it, I'm handing Hope off to wait patiently with Grandmother and we're finding our team's spot on the start line, ten minutes before the race. We stride out a hundred meters or so and group into a huddle, as other teams around us do the same. This is Maria's show now– as captain, she's probably had her pep talk ready for a while.
"Alright girls," she begins. "We know what we're here for. We know what we're trying to do. East River over there is the four-time defending champion. But right there, they're over there eyeing us. They're afraid of us, because they know we're a fast team.
"And we are a fast team. We're a fast enough team to be dead even with East River. But we don't need to be even with them. We need to be ahead of them.
"The team that wins today is not the fastest team. It's the toughest team. It's the team that pushes to run faster when every muscle in their bodies is screaming at them to slow down. It's the team that leaves everything they have out on that course. It's the team that no matter how hard it is, and how much it hurts, never even considers giving up.
"So take a moment to look around you at the six other girls who are about to put everything they have on the line for you. And you are about to put everything on the line for them."
I can't see them, but I know they're there.
Loud, frank Bianca, never afraid to speak her own mind or crack a joke no matter what the situation.
Quiet Lisa, seemingly shy but with a fire inside her.
Brianna, Bianca's older sister, who wants this state championship more than anything now that she is a senior and it is her last chance.
Isabella, who originally joined just because Brianna did, but has grown to love the sport and the team.
Sadie, the quiet but hard-working freshman, who has gradually come to open up as she finds her role on the team.
And Maria. The reason I'm even here. The one who believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself. The one who saw right through all my doubts and fears to my dreams, and made them come true, who never gave me the option of giving up, who led me here both literally and figuratively.
The one who I fall more in love with every day.
"So today," she continues, "in the last mile of this race, when it gets hard and you don't think you can go any faster, remember those six names written on your hand. Remember who you're running for. And no team will be able to touch us."
She pauses a moment, then calls, "Alright, let's kill this inspiring mood with some backwards 'Row, row, row your boat' singing!"
I now know the team cheer as well as Bianca does, who is undoubtedly the loudest, if not the best, singer. Grinning, we belt out, "Dream a but is life, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, stream the down, gently boat your row row row!"
And then we're on the line, and the starter is blowing his whistle, the signal for 'on your mark'. We step up to the line, my left hand on Maria's right elbow, every muscle tense.
Bang! 200 girls surge forward as one, jostling for position as the course narrows. This is the worst part. I grasp Maria's elbow tightly, fighting off panic as the runners surround us. Soon, though, the slower runners fall back, leaving only a few other runners, maybe three or four by the sound of their footsteps, racing with Maria and me at the front.
"5:34!" Coach Davidson calls as we finish our first mile. "One East River girl is right on your heels, then another East River and one South Jefferson about ten meters back!"
By the end of the second mile, we've left the other two behind, and only the girl from East River remains. One mile to go. This is where the race begins.
The last mile is mostly flat, but the hills from earlier in the race are still burning up my legs. I struggle to keep my breathing and strides in control, and I can feel Maria's exhaustion in the rhythm of her stride. Half a mile left. The East River girl, noticing our fatigue, seizes her chance and picks up the pace. Struggling to keep up, I hear her footsteps growing fainter as she begins to open a gap on us.
No. We've come too far to lose to her now. All the hard workouts, all the training, the good races and the bad races have all been culminating towards this moment. The names on my palm seem to burn into my fist. The team needs us. Every point counts. We will not give up now.
I let my fingers slip from Maria's elbow to her hand as I force myself to pick up the pace. I feel her respond, our determination powering each other. We catch the East River girl, running directly next to her with a quarter of a mile, just 400 meters, left until the finish.
Faster. My body rebels, a wave of nausea hitting me like a slap in the face, pain trickling from my stomach to my legs. Doesn't matter. I run as though the pain is a curtain and I can come out on the other side.
200 meters to go. Maria and I run side by side, hand in hand, our strides, our breaths, our heartbeats in unison. The East River girl's footsteps fade behind us.
100 meters. We run as though the two of us had merged into one, a thousand times stronger than we are alone.
Finish. It's over. One of us is the State Champion– I have no idea which, and I realize that I don't really care. It doesn't matter who won. We won.
We're still holding hands. The officials hurry us through the tent at the finish line, but Maria pulls me to the left as we exit instead of the right, giving us a brief moment of privacy behind the tent, alone amidst all the chaos.
Immediately, she turns around and hugs me. "We did it," she says, and she sounds like she's tearing up. "We did it, we did it, we did it."
"Yes," I say, grinning from ear to ear, my voice a little muffled in her shoulder. "We did it."
Finally she pulls back, but we're still touching. Our breaths mingle in the space between us, and I wonder vaguely if people are wondering where we are.
But when she kisses me, the whole world falls away and nothing exists but the two of us.
It lasts a millisecond and it lasts forever. She pulls back far too soon.
"We should be getting back." What a stupid thing to say. My lips don't seem to be working right.
"Yeah," she agrees, "we should."
We stand there a moment more before I realize I have a giant, goofy grin on my face. I quickly shut my mouth.
"It's okay," Maria says teasingly, seeming to read my mind once again. "There's a lot to smile about."
So I smile. I don't think I could have kept from it much longer, anyway.
We've only been gone a minute or two, so some of our teammates are still finishing. Maria keeps up a running commentary for me, never once pausing for breath: "Here comes Isabella PASS THAT GIRL BELLA oh Bianca is coming out of the woods now there's four girls right ahead of her nope three girls nope one girl GET HER BIANCA SHE'S EAST RIVER SPRINT SPRINT YES BIANCA Lisa's coming out of the woods now there's a girl right behind her oh no she might catch her nope Lisa's got it GO LISA!"
I'm barely paying attention, though. Behind me, I can hear Coach Davidson talking... and laughing. Laughing. Coach Davidson. Laughing. My teammates say they've never even seen her crack a smile.
I listen closer, trying to discern who is taking with her. He has a deep voice, and lets out a tiny chuckle when she laughs, strangled as soon as it escapes him. Still, there's something familiar about that laugh. I know that laugh.
I heard it in a home video Grandmother played for me eight months ago.
My father is here. Talking with Coach Davidson. True, his sentences still rarely exceed four words, but he's outside the house, and he's talking. And laughing. The barest millisecond of a chuckle, but a laugh is a laugh.
My father and Coach Davidson are talking and laughing. The two most bitter, withdrawn people I know are opening up to each other. They say romances start in the spring, but a certain November day seems to be a fine time for them.
Grandmother must have cashed in on every favor my father ever owed her and dragged him to the car to get him to come today, but come he did. Hope leaps in my chest as I wonder if maybe today, for the first time in seven years, he will actually speak to me.
As if on cue, I hear Grandmother's cajoling voice and then my father's heavy footsteps approaching. He takes my hand and shakes it formally, saying, "Congratulations. Good race," before turning away. I can't help but feel vaguely disappointed. What was I expecting? A speech about how sorry he is for being a hermit for seven years and how proud he is to have me as my father? No. Maybe later. Now I can actually hope it may come later, since at least he is moving in the right direction.
I don't have any more time to ponder this odd new development, though, as Angelina comes bounding up to me with Hope. She hands Hope's leash off to me before throwing her arms around Maria and jumping up and down, screaming "The officials and the time and they have the results and the times are even and–"
"Whoa, Angelina," I cut her off. "Slow down and speak in sentences; I can't understand a word you're saying."
She calms down just enough for me to understand what she's saying, although she's still jumping up and down and hugging me. "I just heard two officials talking to each other, and they said you and Maria tied down to a hundredth of a second. They didn't know which one of you won, so they're naming both of you State Champion!" She starts screaming excitedly again.
Maria turns and hugs me so tightly I hear something crack.
"Can't– breathe–" I choke out.
"Sorry!" Maria says, releasing me. Then she starts squealing right along with Angelina.
I think my smile might split my face open. I love the entire world right now. There's only one thing that could possibly make today better...
"What were the team scores?" I ask.
"They're about to be announced," Coach Davidson answers from behind me. I haven't heard my father's voice since he shook my hand; I guess that was enough social stimulation for him for one day. Still, maybe I'm imagining it, but Davidson's voice sounds a little less brusque than usual.
An announcement booms out of a speaker nearby, and I jump at the sudden noise. "Attention everyone! The awards ceremony starts in five minutes in the pavilion. Five minutes until the awards ceremony."
We make our way towards the pavilion, and the tension in the air is tangible as I wait anxiously with my team for the scores to be announced. Finally, someone taps a microphone, and the crowd quiets.
"In 3rd place, with a score of 92 points... South Jefferson!" Cheering erupts from behind and to the right of us as the South Jefferson team makes its way to the podium.
"In 2nd place, with a score of 54 points... East River!" The cheering is weaker this time, East River completely silent as they make their way to the front. We know who won now, but I'm still holding my breath...
"And the winners of the Vermont State Cross Country Championship this year, just edging East River with a score of 52 points... A winning team of Lisa Alonso, Sadie Cutler, Autumn Fletcher, Bianca Madison, Brianna Madison, Isabella Montero, and Maria Voltaire... Bakersfield!"
The cheering is deafening. I can't see what's happening, but I can imagine.
Angelina jumping up and down screaming at the top of her lungs. Grandmother clapping with an "I knew you could do it" look on her face. Coach Davidson standing with her arms crossed, but proud of us in spite of herself. Maybe even Father snuck into the back to watch, staying out of sight but not wanting to miss the ceremony.
And my teammates climbing the podium with me, grinning broadly as we accept our medals.
This is the happiest I've been in my entire life.
My father and Coach Davidson starting to come out of their shells– maybe even together.
Maria... Just thinking about her can make me smile even wider than I already am.
And this. State Champion, team and individual. I've come a long way from the uncertain new girl who walked into the school last February, still feeling like her life was more failure than success. I found something I'm good at, somewhere I fit, people who accept and support me unconditionally. I've made a difference now. I belong somewhere.
The scattered puzzle pieces of my life are just beginning to fall into place.