1 Mile to You: a Novel by Jeremy Jackson

Author:Jeremy Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Picador

eighteen

On May first, after I had won the 1600 in Bend City’s big dual meet with Lower Bend, half the stadium lights went dark and Porphorhessohln met me on the track.

“Congratulations, Kevin,” the stadium announcer said. “And happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday,” echoed back from the hill across the street.

“Sweet sixteen!” the announcer said.

The crowd cheered. Porphorhessohln shook my hand. Gregory lurked behind him. Brake appeared, shook my hand. He pointed to Dr. E and Bob Popincock waving in the grandstand.

“Hello Bend City!” a female voice said over the PA. “This is Mayor Gina Bing, here tonight in the scoring booth to help celebrate an important birthday for our important city Symbol of Pride, the Go-Boy, Kevin Schuler! Happy sixteen, Kevin! Can we give him a cheer?”

A cheer.

“Did you see that race he just ran?” Gina Bing asked the crowd. “He’s simply unstoppable! Unfettered!”

A cheer.

“He’s got unbreakable stride! Just like Bend City!”

I looked to Gregory in the dim light. Gregory appeared sad. His beard drooped.

Gina Bing: “And now some of Kevin’s friends and family have a sweet sixteen gift to present him with. If the crowd will accompany me in singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ we’ll bring his present around the track.”

Thus commenced the song. And on the far side of the track appeared a small car with its parking lights on, driving slowly around the circuit. It was a red roadster. A convertible two-seater, Japanese. It was the same car Brake had tried to give me six months ago. It coasted onto the straight stretch before the grandstand. In the car sat Mother and Father—Father driving. Mother held a round cake balanced on one hand. The cake had candles and the candle flames blinked in the breeze and some of them blew out. The car rolled down the straightaway toward me. Mother hailed me. The birthday song ended. The car stopped. “And it’s not a car made by either of the second-rate companies that have abandoned their commitment to our community!” the mayor announced. Cheers, cheers, cheers—like waves rolling onto shore. The parents came to me, hugged me, clapped. Everyone clapped. Father handed me the keys. I took them, made myself grin. Hugged the parents. Waved to the crowd. Sat in the car. Waved to the crowd. Let the photographers shoot me. Saw the radio announcer in the scoring booth laughing and talking quickly, watching me. Saw the mayor clapping near the radio announcer. Saw Andanda standing trackside with her arms crossed, smirking. Saw the line of city council members clapping in the infield. There, too, was the Bend City principal and two vice-principals. And now a pack of cheerleaders surrounded the car, posing in victory attitudes. I saw Brake standing near. I saluted him.

I got out of the car, pushed politely through the cheerleaders, stumbled into a television cameraman. I handed the keys back to Dad—after all, I didn’t have a license—and let him drive it away to the parking lot.

“We’re all proud of you, Kevin,” the mayor announced. “Unbreakable stride!”

As I shook Brake’s hand for a final time that night I whispered to him: “Fuck you too.

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