Chapter 5 Room to Run
Riley's POV
By Wednesday afternoon, I had spent more time carrying paperwork around the track than running on it in the last two years.
The paperwork was considerably less demanding.
Cole met me by the gate, wearing practice clothes and holding our revised map. I had the station list. Between us, we could have opened a very small, deeply unpopular office.
"We've got time to check the route before warmups," he said.
"Excellent. I'd hate to interfere with the scheduled stretching of important people."
He held the gate for me.
Inside, players were gathering on the field. Near the outside straightaway, a few students had set out low hurdles for drills. Their coach stood farther along the fence, talking to an assistant.
Not a meet. Not tryouts. Just an after-school session somebody had permission to run.
I followed Cole toward the new check-in location.
A girl beside the hurdles lifted a yellow marker.
"Riley?"
I stopped.
She looked younger than me, still holding the marker by its edge. "For Traditions Week, where are we supposed to start the demonstration?"
"I'm just checking the setup."
"Right. But here?"
She pointed toward the gap beside the gate.
"Not there. People will be coming through."
I set my folder against my hip and took the marker when she offered it. A few steps farther along, I put it outside the walking route.
"Keep the waiting area back from this opening."
She moved a second marker to match.
"Are you doing the demo?"
"No."
The answer came out before she'd finished asking.
She lowered her hand.
"I'm helping with the event," I added. "That's all."
"Okay."
Cole stood beside me with the map. He checked the new position and marked it without volunteering anything on my behalf.
The girl returned to her group.
I stayed at the edge of the track. The white line beside my shoe was chipped in places, but my foot had stopped just outside it without my having to look.
I could feel where the lane began.
"Here?"
Cole held the map so I could see.
I looked down at the paper. "Yeah. That works."
Behind him, a player carried a stack of orange cones off the field and began setting them across the track.
"Hey, we need this clear for warmups."
The player said it to the hurdle group, not particularly loudly. He dropped another cone onto the nearest lane.
The girl with the yellow markers bent to pick one up.
"Wait," I said.
She stopped.
I looked at the player. "Where are they supposed to go?"
"Just move down."
He pointed toward the curve.
"With the hurdles?"
"We'll be done in a little while."
She had already picked up the second marker. Another student reached for a hurdle.
"Why are you packing up?" I asked.
The girl glanced at the players spreading out nearby. "They need the space."
"They have space."
Cole lowered the map.
The player looked between us. "It's football season."
"I noticed."
"They can do this later."
"Their coach let them use this section."
"Our coach wants us warming up."
"On the field."
"Riley," Cole said.
I turned.
"We can have them wait until we move into drills. It won't take long."
I looked at the map in his hand. Then at him.
"We?"
His mouth closed.
"You mean they wait."
"Fifteen minutes."
"Out of how long?"
He looked toward the girl. She shrugged, still holding both markers.
"It's fine."
Of course it was. She'd said it before anyone had asked what she needed.
I knew how to give that answer. It saved time if you didn't expect anything to change.
"It doesn't have to be," I said.
The player set down his remaining cones. "We do this here all the time."
"And they're here now."
Cole stepped aside to look along the track. On the field, the first row of warmup markers was already in place. The new row crossed the inside lanes and ended beside the hurdles.
"You've still got your original area," I said to him. "This is extra."
He followed the cones back toward the sideline.
"You agreed I got a say in that room," I added. "Does it stop counting when we're outside?"
"That's not what I said."
"It's what you offered. They move, and nothing changes for you."
Another player came up behind the first one.
"Is this that partner thing?"
I turned toward him.
"The hurdles," I said. "We're talking about where they go."
Cole folded the map.
"She's right. This isn't about the project."
He crossed to the coach overseeing warmups. I could see him point from the field markers to the cones on the track. The coach asked something, and Cole answered.
For a moment, I hated that I was waiting to find out whether he'd make my argument sound smaller.
Then the coach nodded and pointed back toward the field.
Cole returned, picked up the nearest orange cone, and stacked it on the next.
"We're staying inside the original markers," he told the players. "Coach cleared it."
"We already set up."
"I know. I'm moving them."
I had been ready to explain the difference between inconvenience and displacement. I even had a version without those words.
Cole picked up the third cone.
I let the explanation go.
The first player took the remaining stack from him.
"Could've just had them wait."
"We extended it," Cole said. "We can put it back."
They carried the markers onto the field. One of the students reached for the hurdle again, then left it where it was.
The girl looked down at the yellow markers in her hands.
"Same place?" she asked me.
"Same place."
The whistle blew, and the football players started moving through their warmup lines.
No announcement. No applause. Somebody complained about the order of the stretches, and a coach told him to keep moving.
The hurdle group went back to work.
Cole returned for the map he'd set beside my folder. I picked it up first.
"Does that go on the list?"
"What list?"
"Things you think I owe you."
He took the paper when I held it out.
"No."
"Because I haven't asked to switch partners."
"I know."
"And this isn't the favor."
"No, Riley."
He wasn't smiling.
I checked the track. The girl went through the first part of her drill, stopped, and walked back.
"You did tell them to wait."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"It would've been easier for us."
I waited.
Cole tucked the map into his folder.
That was apparently the whole answer. No explanation of how busy his team was. No suggestion that I'd made it unnecessarily difficult.
I looked at his folder.
"Okay."
I'd braced for him to ask why I cared so much when I wasn't even on the team anymore.
He hadn't.
The girl came back toward us, carrying one marker.
"Can you check this? I keep starting too far over."
She set it down and put her foot beside it, almost on the lane line.
"You're crowding the edge."
I pointed, but she moved the marker farther away from herself instead.
"Other direction."
"Here?"
"Hang on."
I stepped onto the track and stood beside the line so she could see.
"Give yourself room on both sides. You don't need to fight the boundary before you start."
She shifted into the space I indicated.
"Like this?"
"Yeah."
She went back to her drill.
I stayed where I was.
There was enough room. A whole lane, with nothing in it asking me to move.
Cole stood outside the line.
"Do you want to keep checking this section?"
I still had the station list in my hand. I'd nearly forgotten it.
"For the event," I said.
He nodded. "Okay."
From the field, someone called his name.
He turned, raised a hand, then looked back at me.
"Keep the map?"
"Sure."
He gave it to me and went to join his team.
I watched long enough to see him reach the warmup line. Then I turned toward the gate.
My bag was back at school. I had work to finish. We'd checked the entrance and the route, which was the reason I'd come.
I took one step along the lane.
The hurdle stood ahead of me, low enough for a drill. Nobody was lined up behind it now. The students were talking to their coach farther down the straightaway.
I stopped.
My thumb had bent the corner of the station list. I flattened it against the folder, then put both on the concrete beyond the track.
The girl came over and reached for the hurdle.
"Leave that one," I said.
She paused.
"For the demonstration?"
I looked at the crossbar.
"Just for a minute."
