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The track meet took place on a Friday afternoon at our school. As the runners gathered, I lingered at the edge of my school’s team, trying to convince myself I didn’t stand out. I knew it wasn’t true, because my ponytail and breasts, as small as they were, gave me away, but it calmed me to think of myself as one of the guys.
It wasn’t a major meet, so Coach Lopez had said there’d just be a few students and a couple of parents watching in the stands. But he was wrong. A few minutes after school let out, the bleachers started filling up. Then I saw the cameras—at least three of them, with the call letters of television stations on the sides. The local channels made some sense. I could believe they might cover high school sports. But then I recognized a slick-looking male reporter from the national news.
I threw a questioning look at Francie, who was sitting in the first row of bleachers. She shook her head, as confused as I was.
Coach Lopez edged closer to the reporters, who were moving as a clump in my direction. “What’s going on, guys?”
The reporter laughed and answered that he was here to cover “the first girl runner in high school track in Florida.”
I couldn’t believe that was true. Even if it was true, I couldn’t see why it was newsworthy. Before I could say anything, one of the reporters shoved a microphone in my face. I was too shocked to understand what he was asking, so I just stood there like a store dummy. Reese came over and stood beside me. He whispered, “You look a little wobbly,” and grabbed my arm. The warmth of his hand steadied me, and I concentrated on that instead of the microphone.
Coach Lopez rushed over and pushed the microphone away. Then he pulled me back and asked in a low voice, “Are you willing to talk to the reporters just a little?”
I’d told my parents I’d be late because Mrs. Ivey had a meeting. I wasn’t sure what would make them madder—me running in a race or me lying to them about it. Either way, they’d probably ground me for life or something worse. Even though they watched the news nearly every night, I could only hope they would miss it that night.
Spots formed in front of my eyes, and my stomach churned. I might throw up any second. I caught hold of Coach Lopez’s arm and willed myself to stay upright.
“Give her some room, please.” He whispered to me, “Maybe if you tell them something, anything, they’ll go away.”
Eventually, my vision cleared and my stomach calmed down. I looked around. The cameras were rolling. I had a choice: I could walk away, or I could say something. Either way, I would probably be on the evening news. “Okay, here goes.” The coach stood on one side of me with Reese on the other. I spoke to the reporters in a trembling voice. “Look, I don’t see why it’s news that a girl is in a race. I just like to run.” I gave them a tight smile and turned away.
“Are you trying to change the sport? You know that girls can’t run long distances without harming themselves, don’t you? Did someone put you up to this?”
That got to me. Heat rose up in my face, and I whirled around. This time, my voice was solid and strong. “No one ‘put me up to this,’ like it’s something bad. Girls can run just as well as boys if they train for it.”
Breathing hard, I stalked into the cluster of athletes from my school, and they closed ranks around me. The meet began.
The mile race was one of the last events. I moved to the starting position, along with Reese and four other runners, and waited for the gun. Bang! We were off. My jitters disappeared. Ignoring the spectators, I focused on moving into the inner lanes. Almost immediately, in spite of how hard I tried, I fell slightly behind the leaders. I ran smoothly, but most of the boys were faster. Dimly, I heard cheers, and a few boos, too.
By the half-mile mark, some of the boys were flagging. I ran in the middle of the pack, trying not to get elbowed off to the side or tripped. By the last lap, I was panting, and my hair had fallen out of its rubber band and hung down below my shoulders.
Finally, I saw the finish line. Gasping, I stretched my legs to their full length and kicked it out as hard as I could. But it wasn’t enough. Some guy from another school won, and Reese came in second. I was third. After I caught my breath, I pasted a fake smile on my face. Reese and I high-fived, and he gave me a big hug.
Third place was good, but I had hoped to win. I was pretty sure that third place wouldn’t get me a college scholarship. I leaned over and put my head down between my knees, trying not to cry. And then I had to go to the front to receive my ribbon from the principal, who plunked it into my hand instead of pinning it on my shirt. It was the first award of any kind I’d won, but it wasn’t good enough. And if my parents saw me on TV, I’d probably never be allowed to set foot on a track again. Goodbye, college scholarship. I had gambled and lost. The only good part of coming in third was that I might not be on the news.
As the crowd melted away, Coach Lopez came over to me with a tall, blond woman beside him. “Faye, I can see you’re upset. But you don’t need to be. I didn’t expect you to win against the fast boys. You did great,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “I want you to meet Coach Peters. She’s an assistant track coach at the University of Florida.”
Even though I’d only lived in Florida for a month, I knew that the University of Florida was the state’s big school for running. My mouth went dry, and my heart did a flip-flop.
Both adults look at me, waiting for me to speak. I licked my lips and croaked out, “Wow. Uh... hello.”
Coach Lopez said, “And this is our new star runner, Faye Smith.”
Coach Peters stuck out her hand, and I rubbed my sweaty palm on my shorts before shaking hands with her.
“You ran a good race, Faye,” said Coach Peters. “I think you might have won if you were racing against other girls.” She paused, giving me time to say something. I didn’t know if she was right or just being nice. I shrugged, and Coach Peters continued. “I understand you might be interested in running track in college.”
I nodded.
“I’d like to talk to you about that.” She gestured to the bleachers. “Why don’t we sit down?”
Francie must have thought I was talking to a reporter and it was okay to interrupt, so she came over and gave me a hug. “Congratulations. You did great.”
Coach Lopez said, “Coach Peters, this is another of our runners, Francie Ivey. Francie, Coach Peters is with the University of Florida track team.”
I could hear Francie suck in her breath. We all sat down on the bleachers.
“Here’s the deal,” Coach Peters said, looking at me. “We’re planning on starting a women’s track team soon. It’s in the planning stages now, so we’re scouting talent. You’re a junior, right? In two years, the team will probably be up and running. Judging from what I saw here today, you would be a good addition. You’re fast and strong, and you didn’t give up.”
“Uh, thanks. I didn’t win, though.” As soon as I said it, I wanted to kick myself. We all knew I didn’t win. I looked down at the ground for a few seconds before glancing back at her.
She smiled as though she knew what I was going through. “Yes, I know. But your coach tells me you just started working with him. You did well for having had so little training. Most people consider track and field to be a boys’ sport, so we aren’t sure what times we can expect from girls who’ve had good training. You’re at the beginning of a new sport. I expect that, before long, there’ll be lots of track programs, and even marathons, just for women.”
“Marathons?” asked Francie, sounding hopeful.
“Yep.” Coach Peters looked hard at Francie. “Are you interested in marathons?”
“Faye and I are planning on running the Boston Marathon next spring.”
I wanted to punch her for including me in her plans, but I didn’t dare.
Coach Peters said, “Well, now, that puts a different spin on things.” She looked at me. “If you’re interested, you can probably earn a spot on our new team, especially if you improve your time on the mile.” Then she looked back and forth between Francie and me. “On the other hand, if you run the Boston Marathon and finish in, say, no more than four and a half hours, the publicity you would get would be great for our program. I’m making no promises, mind you, but in that case, I might be able to talk to you about full scholarships.”
I sat there with my mouth open. Francie said in her most polite tone, “Thank you, ma’am, but I just want to run the Boston Marathon, not be on a track team. My parents have already saved up for my college tuition. But I think Faye would love to take you up on your offer.”
Coach Peters turned to me. “Is that right?”
I nodded. I must have fallen into a sweet dream or something. This couldn’t be my life. Nothing ever went right in my life. I almost didn’t dare breathe, for fear I would wake up.
“I’m sure she can do it,” said Coach Lopez. “She just needs a little training, is all.”
“All right then,” said Coach Peters. “Would you like to be a Florida Gator, Faye?”
“Really? I mean, yes, ma’am, I’d like that. But my grades aren’t so great.”
“Ah. You’ve got a little time to improve them. And we have tutors to help you once you get to Gainesville. So your work is cut out for you. Keep at it, and you’ll be running for me in a couple of years.” She held out her hand again, and I was in such a daze that I just stared at it. She laughed. “I’ll stay in touch with your coach, all right?”
It was a defining moment of my life, and all I could say was, “Yes, ma’am.” I wanted to thank her for the confidence she had in me and tell her I would do my best to prove myself worthy. But the words wouldn’t come.
The coaches walked away, and Francie and her mom congratulated me. We walked together into the school. I leaned against my locker, and my daydream fell apart. Tears coursed down my cheeks as I cried my heart out. Laney and Francie exchanged a strange look, but Laney gave me a handkerchief and waited for me to calm myself.
Between sobs, I blurted out, “God, my parents are going to kill me. I told them I had to stay late because of you, and now they’ll find out that was a lie.” The tears started again.
Laney blinked and lifted her eyebrows. Maybe she’d thought I was crying for some other reason. “Not necessarily. It might not even make the news, since you didn’t win. But I’m disappointed you didn’t tell them the truth.” Her eyes bored into mine. “Faye, is everything all right at home?”
It had been drilled into me not to talk about my family’s business to outsiders, but I managed to say, “My parents really don’t want me to do anything except stay home and do chores. So if I’m going to do anything at all, I have to lie.” I started crying again.
Laney waited until I stopped. “Listen, sweetie, I don’t want to get mixed up in your family situation. You shouldn’t have lied to your parents. But if they give you any grief, why don’t you have them call me, and hopefully I can straighten things out.” She looked questioningly at me. “Most parents would be proud to have such a talented daughter. Maybe yours will be, too, once they get used to having a celebrity in the family. A college scholarship. That’s wonderful!” She reached out, tucked my hair behind my ear, and waited for me to explain myself.
I shook my head, as confused as she seemed to be. “I think they’d be proud if I did something else, like get a ribbon for typing or spelling or geography. But not for running. Not even if I’d won. My mom thinks it’s not healthy for me to run, and she won’t listen when I tell her I’m fine.”
Laney said, “Uh, did you ever talk to your doctor about it?”
I grabbed my books and headed for the car. “Please, can we just leave?”
Laney didn’t say anything else, and we drove home in silence until something occurred to me. “How did those reporters find out about me, anyway?”
Laney thought for a second. “Oh, I imagine it was Reese’s father. He owns the Valencia newspaper. Maybe he sent out a press release or something. But Faye, really, don’t make too much of this. Tomorrow there’ll be another story, and nobody will remember this one.”
She didn’t know my parents, but I didn’t bother to correct her.
As I got out of the car, Francie patted my hand and said, “Call me later, and let me know if you survive.”
“I will. And I want to talk to you about something, too.” I gave her a hard look and slammed the car door behind me.
* * *
UH-OH. The expression on Mom and Dad’s faces told me they’d seen the news, and I was on it. Mom slammed the dishes around so hard I was afraid they might break.
I had decided to do my best to act like this was a normal day. “Hi,” I said, dropping my books on the couch.
“Sit down. We’ve been waiting supper for you,” Mom said.
We ate in silence. The news was over, so I didn’t even have the newscaster’s droning voice to ease the tension. Afterward, Dad pushed back his chair and banged his hand on the table. “We’ve finished eating, like your mama wanted, and now it’s my turn. Dana Faye, you have disobeyed us at every turn ever since we moved here. Your behavior is out of control. Am I going to have to whip you to make you behave?”
I wasn’t sure why what I’d done was so horrible, but it wasn’t the time to ask. “I’m sorry, Dad. I won’t do it again.”
“You damned sure won’t do it again. You lied to us, you went against our wishes, and you ran on national television with boys. I want to know why you did it, girl.”
Dad didn’t seem to be proud of me, so I quickly said, “I just love to run, Dad.” I hated how thin and tentative the words sounded. “It makes me feel better than anything I’ve ever done.”
“You’ve got no business being on TV. You looked like a hussy out there, flaunting your body.”
“Dad, I just wore the same uniform everybody else on the team did—shorts and a T-shirt. It wasn’t indecent.” I struggled to hold back the tears. “I’m not a hussy. I’m just a runner.”
Mom and Dad exchanged a mystified look. She sniffed away tears, and he grunted. There was silence for a few minutes.
Dad said, “Well, you’ll have to find something else to do. You’ve run your last race. Do you hear me?”
Something about his wording gave me hope. “Yes, sir. I promise not to race anymore in any track meets. But”—I hoped I wasn’t pushing him too far—”would it be all right if I keep running with Francie? She needs me to run with her so she won’t be all alone.”
“No,” Mom said. “Definitely not. No more running.”
“Now, Sue, maybe we ought to give that one some time. The Iveys are our neighbors, and they’ve been very kind to us. And it’s nice for Faye to have a friend.” He looked at me hard. “You’re grounded for a week while we consider what’s next. To and from school on the bus, and no extracurricular activities. You hear me?”
“Okay. I’m sorry again. I won’t run in any more track meets.”
In my room, I breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Being grounded for a week was better than for life.
* * *
AFTER I HAD CALMED down, I called Francie. As soon as she answered, I asked, “Why did you do that to me?”
“What?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.
“You know what. Getting me involved in running the Boston Marathon with you. You know my parents won’t let me go, but you set me up. Why did you do it?”
She took a few breaths. “I did it for you. The coach only talked about giving you a scholarship after I mentioned the Boston Marathon. You know that’s true.”
“Yeah, but it’s not going to happen. I already told you we don’t have the money for the marathon.”
“But you said if you did have the money, you’d like to do it.”
My mouth was open to tell her that wasn’t exactly what I’d said. Then I realized she really had done me a favor. I should be grateful.
We lived in such different worlds, Francie and I. Her parents would never have dreamed of grounding her for running in a race and almost winning. Instead, they would have been proud. It was assumed she would go to college, even without a scholarship. How I wanted to be from her family instead of my own.
But I wasn’t quite ready to give up on being mad at her. “I’ll have to think about it. Since you got me into this, would you still be willing to tutor me in geometry?”
“Sure. We can start tomorrow during study hall.”
When we hung up, I heard a tentative knock at my bedroom door. I opened it, and Mom was standing there. She was crying.