Tears poured down his face with joy.
Joy, it was simply joy that left him cold and shaking right through to the bone. He dry heaved again, and again, until his throat was sore.
He’d stuffed as much under the bed as he could, then crawled past the piles to the last gap between the wardrobe and the passage out.
Folding, unfolding and folding again took hours but not long enough. He traced the patterns of the hems and the stitches, and this stopped him from thinking.
Zack.
He only needed the piles, and then he would be full.
Finally, he sat and regarded the passage out. If he filled it, he’d be immersed as if in a tomb. Surrounded by clothes to stop the cold and shoes to prevent the rot and beads and toys, and oh, so much. He would never need people again.
Zack.
The daylight would end and so would the rooftops.
Kaz lay down on his bed and cried with the terrible weight of such responsibility, and with the joy of finale. He hugged the tiny doughnut toy, which smelled of Zack and jokes, laughing, wind and sun, breathing and kissing, hearts and lungs. It smelled of life.
Then he slept.
“Goodnight, Coach. Goodnight, Zack.”
***
“Fucking hell. We don’t stand a chance.” Adam was pinched and frowning. “So many teams!”
The park was full of runners in matching shorts and tops, wearing numbers across their backs. There was a loud speaker. White lines had been painted on the field, and there was even a large screen showing the park.
“Hey, Adam!” a boy, dressed in team colours, shouted. “You’re not running with them, are you?” He pointed at Zack and laughed. His team began jeering. “Maybe the gut bucket can bounce his way round.”
What Kaz never told Coach was how much he hated the atmosphere before a race. The boys were all so competitive—trying anything to get ahead, be the best—backstabbing and bitching. It had made him cold and dead inside.
“Don’t listen to them,” he told Zack, who had hung his head. “They’re just trying to put you off.” A smouldering began in his stomach. “They put you down to make themselves feel superior, but you’re worth a million of them. Do you hear me? Ten million!”
Adam put his hands on his hips and glared at the boys. “Fuck off, idiots.”
“You OK, Zack?” Tork muttered. He took Zack’s arm and frowned. “And that there is why I will never live on campus.”
“I’m used to it,” Zack said sadly. “People don’t see past the fat.”
“Because they’re small-minded, privileged twats.” Tork shook his head. “Don’t ever accept that.”
“Shitheads. Oh my god. I didn’t expect all this tension.” Jo groaned. “I’ve got a terrible stomachache.”
“I can’t do it. I can’t!” Zack wailed. “On a screen? People laughing at me on a screen?” His hands were trembling and his face clammy.
“Me, either. I’m no good in crowds,” Tork said and grabbed Adam’s hand. “I wanna run away home right now. Will you still love me if I hide under the bed with Dickens?”
“Shit—shit—shit. Shall we admit defeat now and not bother? Tell the sponsors we had group migraine?” Adam sat on the grass heavily, pulling Tork with him. “It’s OK. We can go if you want.”
“Gather round,” Kaz said loudly. “And shut up.” The words came out so easily. Running was easy, had always been. It was the rest of life that was difficult. He’d woken up an hour ago, feeling sick with shivers running up and down his body, but he’d squeezed through the passageway and come here, because it’s what coaches did. He remembered Coach shouting encouragement down the track right after the death of his own father.
“Come here, in a circle.” He gathered them in, his team, making sure to hold Zack’s hand tightly. “There are many people here, for sure. Some are very fast runners, and yes, there is a big screen. Many of these people wear expensive clothes, and no, we don’t. But none of that means anything to us, because we don’t run for them. Who do we run for?”
“Ourselves?” said Jo.
“For the people at the shelter.” Adam’s eyes were huge, with big circles around them. He’d sent Kaz three panicking texts about last-minute tips last night.
“We run because we can’t make life fair, but this, we can do.” Tork’s eyes were the colours of fire embers. “And also because Adam called all those sponsors and sent about a million letters. And Zack lost a stone in weight. Why shouldn’t we run? They’re no better than us.” He indicated the boys who’d shouted at Zack.
“And Kaz gave us all the training,” Zack whispered. His hand was sweaty but he squeezed back. “I’m running for Kaz.”
Kaz was used to the world stopping, and swaying, but still he gulped before he could go on.
“Yes, for all those things. But mainly, we run because we want to,” Kaz said proudly. “No-one can tell us we’re not good enough. Those ignorant boys and life’s winners do not own the world.” The words went round and round in his head with Coach’s deep laugh. “Remember we only have to finish in the first half to qualify. I’m so proud of you all.” His voice trembled.
“Not sure I could say I actually want to, babe, but can I have pizza after?” Zack looked ill but he smiled, trying to cheer them up. “With fries.”
“I’ll buy you the biggest pizza—all of us. And beer, and ice cream.” Adam breathed in and looked around at the crowds. “My parents are here.” He held the baton tightly.
The loud speaker announced that all teams should assemble at the start line. It was a massive park, but even so, there was some pushing and confusion.
“Good luck, my team! You go out there and run!”
The starting bang fired, and Adam set off. The runners couldn’t be seen for the first half of the lap as they disappeared behind the trees. Quick flashes of all the races Kaz had attended began flitting through his mind—Coach laughing and talking, big hands holding his face after, the medals lined up at home. He wondered belatedly what his parents had done with them after he left.
“Oh my god, it’s so exciting.” Tork was wild, looking for Adam as the first runners began to appear along the top edge of the park by the playground.
“Seriously, I’ve got an awful stomachache,” Jo said, bending over. “It would be today, wouldn’t it!”
“Do you need the loo, babe? It’s nerves.” Zack was biting his nails and fidgeting. “Why ever did I think I could do this! I’m five stones over weight, and I run like a kid doing cartwheels.”
“There he is!” Tork screamed. Adam was in the first group to appear in the distance, running like fluid, remembering all the training. “He’s on the screen—look!”
They cheered him wildly as he completed the first lap. “It’s too much,” Tork said shakily, wiping his eyes. “He’s so fast and gorgeous I might die right here.”
“Zack, are you ready? It’s you next. Just remember what I told you—not too fast at the start, keep your pace.” Kaz rubbed his back to try and calm him. “You’re a brave and brilliant person.”
“Aw thanks, but I’m not brave. My legs are shaking.”
“That’s why you’re brave.”
“Oh, God.” Jo was stomping about, bending over and groaning.
“Calm down and drink some water. Breathe in and out, but don’t concentrate on it,” Kaz told her. She stared back with a white face.
“I feel like shit.”
Adam appeared for the last stretch, running taut and hard. The loud speaker announced that he was running a very fast time. Kaz quickly calculated if it would be enough to give them the quick start they needed to compensate for Zack’s estimated time.
“Good—good—good! Zack, stand here with your hand out like we practised. I’m going to be right here watching, but pretend I’m running with you!”
“No, I can’t.” He shook his head and hugged himself. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I feel so fat and ugly.” He looked across at the college boys who had shouted.
“Of course you can! Just look straight ahead and do what we planned.” They’d gone over his running strategy what felt like hundreds of times.
Tork hugged him briefly. “I know how you feel, but think of those people at the shelter.”
“OK. Here goes nothing.” Zack stood in place and held out his hand ready for the baton.
Adam was sprinting against the other runners. As he held out the baton, someone from the college team pointed and laughed. Zack covered his face with his hands and cowered.
Rage fired through Kaz.
“Ignore them, Zack!”
Tork jumped up and grabbed the baton from a startled Adam. He sprinted, but straight away, Kaz could see he’d forgotten everything. He ran flat out until he vanished from view.
“Why the change?” Adam gasped. “Tork was gonna do the 6k. How will Zack run that far?”
“Sorry. I got put off,” Zack said miserably. “It’s my own fault.”
“It’s not your fault!” Coach would have known how to handle it. Bullying and sneering made him fiery and clever, able to chop boys down with a word. All Kaz had ever been able to do was train even harder and try not to get noticed. His heart yammered. “They’re just stupid people who know nothing.”
Jo nodded. “It’s like school sports day all over again.”
“How’re we doing overall?” Adam panted.
“You were very fast, I think you came in tenth. Those idiots insulted Zack.”
“Oh, no, don’t make any fuss,” Zack said. “They probably think it’s funny.” He glanced across at the boys nervously.
“Guys, there’s something I have to tell you,” Jo said.
“Where’s Tork, I can’t see him yet?”
“He should be out by now.”
“Give him a chance, any minute, he’ll be there.”
“I’ve got the shits.”
Kaz sat on the grass and stared. “Is it nerves?”
“What do you mean, you’ve got the shits? No, you haven’t. You’re our best chance!” Adam sat up, still panting. “Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”
She groaned. “Didn’t want to let you down. I spent all last night on the bog.”
“Do you need a doctor?”
They stared at her as she bent double. “No, I need a toilet. Give me a few minutes.” She stood up gingerly and began loping off fast towards the toilet block.
“Hurry up, Jo!”
“Here’s Tork!” He appeared within the mass, running fast. They cheered him as he went past the first lap.
“Zack, will you be OK to run next? It’s about a mile further?”
“No. I’ll never be ready for this, but yeah.”
Before he had time to think of the crowds, Kaz kissed him briefly on the lips. “I’m most proud of you,” he whispered. “Run for me. Forget those idiots. We need never do this again.”
“I don’t care what they say. It’s only what people always say.” He stood waiting for the baton, his face determined.
“Cruel people. Not people who matter.” Kaz yearned to make him smile again, to soothe the hurt and make it right, the way Coach had always done. “Who do you believe—me or those idiots?”
“No question.”
Kaz leaned forward and whispered, “You look so sexy when you run.”
Zack’s face erupted into laughter. “I do not!” But Kaz could see he was pleased.
“Yes. And I’ll be watching every sexy step.”
They yelled as Tork ran down the finishing straight, holding out the baton. By now, their position had slipped back to the middle of the group.
“Go, Zack!” Kaz shouted.
“Run, Zack!” Adam yelled.
He took the baton and set off nice and steady as Kaz had taught him. Tears came to his eyes. “So brave,” he told the others unsteadily.
“I’m sorry. I lost the good start you gave us. I went off too fast and got stitch,” Tork gasped.
“You did fucking brilliant,” Adam said, stroking his back. “You looked like a green flying missile.”
“Where’s Jo?”
“She went to the toilet. I’ll go check,” Kaz said and hurried to the block. She appeared as he got there, staggering.
“I can’t run,” she gasped and then threw up. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. My mum had it yesterday.”
“Come back and sit with us, we’ll phone your mum to come and get you. Don’t worry,” he told her. “Anyone can get ill.”
“But what about the team?”
“Don’t worry about that now.”
He half-carried her back towards Adam and Tork, who were standing there waiting.
“She can’t run. Too sick,” he explained.
“Maybe they’ll let me run again, if we explain? I’m knackered, but I’ll give it a go.” Adam ran to one of the officials and began gesturing wildly. Tork put his coat around Jo’s shoulders and called her mum.
“How’s Zack doing?” Kaz asked, looking worried towards the mass of runners. “I can’t see him.”
“He’s on the last lap right at the back.” Tork put an arm around Jo and hugged. “I think we’re screwed.”
“It’s Adam I feel worst for,” Jo said. He was waving his arms around and shouting at the officials. “I guess they said no to him running again.” He began to walk back despondently, shaking his head.
“It’s no-one’s fault,” Tork said. “Life is often not fair. Oh my god—look at Zack!”
“Fuck, he must’ve fallen over. Poor Zack!” Jo burst into tears and pointed. “This day is a fucking epic disaster.”
He appeared at the last stretch. His knees and legs were bloody, but he was running. Even from this distance, Kaz could see his determined face. People lining the race began chanting and cheering for him to finish.
“Jeez, this was not meant to be,” Adam wailed. “Not for us. Zack went through all that for nothing!”
But Kaz knew about living with failure and how, occasionally, there was a way to break free. He watched Zack getting nearer and nearer, and then he decided.
“Get on your feet and cheer like your life depends on it. We are not going down without a fight. If we have to, we will crawl, but we never stop until the end. Never stop!”
* * * * *