Zero equals how many times I have taken first place in the mile. 16 equals how many times I have taken second place. 16 equals how many times Megan has taken first place. Three pairs of running shoes in my locker at school. One pair of racing spikes. 52 miles I ran last week. 44 miles Megan ran last week. Ten minutes until our next race. Two, the number of plates of spaghetti I ate last night. One plate for Megan. Five guys asked Megan to Prom. Zero guys asked me to Prom. 1,356, the running total for Megan’s friends on Facebook. Subtract 1,012 friends and you get my standing total. How many times have my parents come to see me run? Zero. How many times have Megan’s come? Zero. How many parents come to each race? Lots.
12 times I said hello to Megan in the hall last week. Three times she waved at me in response. Zero times she said hello back. Nine times she ignored me because her boyfriend was draped all over her. Ten minutes a day, my average time spent on the phone with friends. 150 minutes for Megan. 16 times I have complimented Megan for winning a race. Zero times has she spoken to me after a race. 12, the number of years Megan and I were best friends. One, the number of years Megan’s gone without speaking to me. Five, the number of seconds it took for us to stop being friends. Five, the number of seconds faster she runs each race. Five, the number seconds until the gun goes off to start our race. Five, the number of times I think about how much I miss Megan every day. Five, the number of minutes between her birth and mine. First, Megan was born and then, second, me.
Yellow, the color of my shoes. Bright blue, the color of the sky. Red, the color of my cheeks. Green, the color of my finger nails. Yellow, the color of the ribbons in my hair. Tan, the color of my skin. Green, the color of my jersey. Blonde, the color of my hair. Blue, the color of my eyes. Megan’ colors are all the same as mine. Orange, the color of the gun. Black, the color of the smoke leaving the gun.
Violent, the sound coming from the gun. Thump, the sound of my heart beating. Stampede, the sound of hundreds of feet hitting the track. Screaming, the sound of parents cheering for their daughters. 76 seconds, the sound of the man’s voice as I finish my first lap. Hope, the sound of my feet catching up to Megan’s. Hope, the sound of my relaxed breathing. Hope, the sound of Megan’s heavy breathing. One lap left, the sound of the man’s voice as we both cross the line. Defeat, the sound Megan makes as she trips and falls. Defeat, the sound my feet make as I stop to help her. Defeat, the sound of runners passing bye. Love, the sound Megan makes when she says, “Thanks.”
No comments:
Post a Comment