He took the baton from Zack.
In his mind, there were dazzling headlights ahead and a roaring, empty road. In his head and heart, there was only one other person, not crowds who cheered and shouted at the unknown boy running through the masses like the wind.
Running was always easy, to Kaz. It had a start and an end, and always without fail, what waited after the finishing line was affection so affirming it crushed the ache. If he didn’t win, there was still a hug then laughing in the changing rooms with the other boys. He was always welcome, always loved, and always known. Running was Coach, and Coach was everything.
Kaz had never minded the early mornings and late nights training. The other runners would moan and skip sessions so they could go out with friends and do other things, but never Kaz.
He chased the headlights with a determination that cut through time and miles. He ran so fast—right past the miles and months—back to the last time. He heard the steps pounding alongside his and the voice urging onwards, onwards. Then the ghost of Coach began to fall back, but this time, he was ready and used the loss to fuel his screaming legs into faster, faster…
He ran through the memory of being flung out the truck onto a road with his backpack stolen…
Through the loneliness and fear of plodding along so far with no-one to trust…
Pushed past hunger and thirst, and gritted his teeth at shame and the end of dignity.
He ran against the sea and people he could not save, and this time, the helplessness and guilt gave him anger—his parents—country—the rooftops—all the people who’d forced him to crawl like an animal with nothing…
From the top of the park, he could see his friends jumping up and down, waving their arms at the front of the crowds. He could see Zack punching the air and Tork screaming.
And finally, he ran for them.
The green and red, the exploding noise of the screen, the burning in his legs and lack of air in his lungs—he shot across the line and went over, and over, tumbling and mixing and everything a swirl.
Until it stopped.
***
“I think he’s looking better.”
“Poor Kaz.” Hands stroked his head and hair, loving hands with gentle fingers. “I wanna get right on that bed and cuddle him.”
Zack.
“Fucking hell.”
“Is my hair a mess?”
“Adam!”
Kaz slowly opened his eyes and tried to make sense of the colours and shapes. Four people and a cat stared down. He was in a bed and a room, but not his own, because even through the fog, he knew four people wouldn’t fit into his room—not with the piles.
“Kaz! He’s awake. Are you OK?” For a second, Kaz thought it was Coach, but of course, the voice was all wrong and the face was a different colour and much younger. This face was soft and worried, with blue eyes and dark feather hair. Kaz had already let Coach go, but Zack was here. Kaz wanted him much, much, nearer.
“Did we get through?” he asked. “I can’t remember.” He tried to think back to the race. “Your poor knees.” Zack kissed his hair.
“He’s asking if we got through!” Another boy—Tork—moved closer and stroked his hand. “Don’t worry about that now. Just relax.”
He turned to Adam and mouthed ‘Did we?’
Adam held his hands out and shrugged. “Dunno, I forgot to check. You got through the finishing line. If I live to two hundred, I know I’ll never see anything like that again.” He laughed. “You ran so fucking fast, Kaz. That screen followed you all the way! You ran like a train, like a fucking train, and then when you got to the end, you carried on running all the way back to Citywise. We found you shivering outside your room, on the floor, jabbering crap. I forgot to look if we made it.”
“It was awesome. All those dickheads who laughed at us just stood there mouths open as you destroyed their runners. Fucking priceless.” Jo made a face. “Hang on, loo again. Be back.” She staggered off, farting.
“Oh, gross!” Adam fanned his face.
“How you feeling now?” Zack handed him a glass of water. “Lisa wants to call the doctor.”
“Oh, no. No doctor,” he said. “No money for a doctor.”
He tried to sit up, but both Tork and Zack held him down, and he was too weary to argue. Odd sections of the race began to flash in his head like red lights. He remembered the ghosts running alongside.
“No, stay flat, babe. Don’t worry about anything, OK? It’s all taken care of.” Kaz heard the words, and he wanted to believe them so much a tear formed and escaped down his cheek.
“I had to leave him,” he said, knowing he shouldn’t be speaking about Coach but unable to let go of the ghost.
“Aw, babe. You mean your coach?” Zack kissed his hand. “You kept speaking about him when we dragged you into Tork’s room.”
The first time Kaz had cried since leaving Coach was in the park with Zack’s arms around him and the rooftops bordering the park like watchful guards. Now, he couldn’t stop. They poured out, an unstoppable force that made him shake and gasp into Zack’s shoulder.
“Come on, love, let’s get you into your own room and in bed.” He was aware of Lisa and his friends helping him up, and he knew he should stop them, but lethargy had taken over his limbs.
The piles.
He heard the gasps and didn’t care. One by one, they sidled up the passageway to his bed.
“Oh my fucking god,” Lisa said. “I am speechless.”
Kaz collapsed and closed his eyes. Somehow, they’d all squeezed onto his bed in silence.
“This,” she said tightly, “has got to all go. Now! How the fuck did you get this lot in here? It’s a health and safety hazard. You were meant to be keeping an eye on him!” she hissed at Tork. “If the manager sees this, Kaz’ll be out and so will I!”
She began to take his precious things off a pile, causing other piles to fall against one another.
“No,” he said. “Please leave them.” She was holding an old, rolled-up sleeping bag. “At night, I was so cold my limbs were ice,” he said, knowing it explained nothing. “My coat was stolen and it rained so hard I thought I would melt into the fields.” He pulled his knees up as close as they would go and let the tears fall. “Please leave me alone.”
“Lisa, let me talk to you outside.” Adam began squeezing through the piles. After a last frown, she followed.
“Cow.” Zack cuddled Kaz close.
“Don’t worry, Adam will talk to her. One time, we were in a pub, it was so crowded and loud I had a panic attack. People were staring and pointing. I thought I’d die. Then someone shouted I was on drugs. Adam convinced the owner to let us out the back way, and even give us a free drink.” Tork laughed softly. “The owner ended up driving us home.”
“These piles are things you needed but didn’t have?” Jo said. “That is so awful.” She wiped her eyes. “All the time we made you coach us and you were going through this on your own.”
Kaz knew that if he had a million years, he couldn’t explain because he didn’t understand, either.
“What’s this one, babe?” Zack gently stroked some beads that were on the jewellery pile. “They’re so pretty.”
“My youngest sister. She loved beads and ribbons, anything dolls. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” He was sobbing again. “She was only a little girl, and now I’ll never see her grow up.”
“What did she look like?” Zack asked. “What’s her name?”
Kaz had never been good with words, but now they burst free, spilling out across the room with memories of his little sister playing in the yard or drawing. At some point, he dozed in Zack’s arms, then woke up to find it was just the two of them.
“I’m so sorry about those boys. I wanted to kill them,” he said. “I still do.”
“It sounds mad, but I thought maybe you hadn’t noticed I’m so big until they started shouting. I thought if I ran, maybe you’d forget what they said. Then I fell, and knew I’d fucked up the race, and maybe fucked up us.” He paused. “If there is an us?” Kaz sensed the change in Zack’s body as he tensed his muscles in readiness. “I understand if there’s not, ’cause you’ve got so much to sort out and…stuff. I shouldn’t even be asking.”
“Of course you should ask. But one day, you won’t have to. You and me—there’s no words we can’t say. I’ve had enough of hiding.” Of all the things never said but festering in the atmosphere, destroying lives.
“No secrets. I’m terrible at secrets anyway. I already told you mine.”
“The lasagne? That’s all your secrets?”
“And I’m ticklish.” Zack giggled, and although Kaz already knew he was the luckiest boy in the world to be lying here together, he hugged the knowledge again.
“You’re the most amazing boy I’ve ever known.”
“As if.”
“Yes, there’s an us, and it’s going to get better and bigger. That’s why you won’t need to ask, because I’ll make sure to tell you every single day. That race was my last, but this is just the start of the us, and the no secrets, and this.” Kaz tentatively slipped his hand under Zack’s top and stroked his stomach. “I mean, if you can put up with all my craziness.” He cautiously ran his hands over Zack. “I want to touch you.”
Zack sat up so they could slide their tops off. They were both breathing heavily from all that had happened and the stripped-bare-to-the-skin with no secrets. Kaz shivered with overload and pushed Zack down flat so he could snuggle back into his arms. “It might take a while.”
“All the best cakes take time to cook,” Zack said. “And there’s no such thing as crazy—only recipes that went wrong.”
“You mean we’re all cakes?”
Zack hummed while he thought. “We’re all ingredients, and if we’re lucky, we find the right cook—”
“And turn into delicious cakes, just like you did.” He tickled Zack’s stomach, enjoying the ripples and little gasps. “Oh, you really are ticklish! Now you’re in trouble.”
They wrestled awhile, but soon ended up entwined and drowsy.
“Feels like today lasted for ever,” Zack murmured. “But in a way, I don’t want it to end. Talk to me some more.”
“OK. Did I ever tell you how much I hate running? I detest all that snobbery and aggression.” Kaz began telling Zack about competitions, then Coach. Zack listened and asked more questions, or stroked his hair until eventually, they both fell asleep.
* * * * *