Three Sides of a Heart by Natalie C. Parker

Author:Natalie C. Parker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-11-09T05:00:00+00:00

Hurdles

BRANDY COLBERT

“Feeling good about next week?”

My father asks me this before every track meet. The closer we get to an event, the more his questions about my preparedness replace normal inquiries, like asking about my day or how school is going.

“Yup,” I say, watching the toaster. He didn’t even say good morning.

“You know, some big scouts are going to be there.” He opens the cabinet and reaches for his silver travel mug. “Carl from SC and Troy from Arkansas and—”

“I know. You told me. I’m ready.”

My two pieces of toast pop up. Dad fills his mug while I slather on butter. He looks over when the knife clangs against the counter and frowns.

“Mavis, what’d I tell you about toast? If you insist on having that over something more rich in protein, you could at least eat it with peanut butter.”

“I’ll make up for it at lunch.” I bite the inside of my cheek so I won’t sigh as I walk my plate to the kitchen table.

Probably other people my age have way more exciting fantasies, but my dream come true would be only having to deal with my father at one place: school or home. Not both. Everyone at school loves him—his health and wellness students and my fellow teammates. I love him, but I think I’d like him a lot more if he were just my dad and not my coach too.

Jacob says I’m lucky. His parents don’t understand what track means to him. But sometimes I wonder if my relationship with hurdles means more to my father than it ever will to me.

I get my period as I’m walking to my first class and make a detour to the English-wing bathroom. The bell sounds while I’m still standing at the sinks, digging through my bag for a tampon. Shit. I’ll have to go up to the office for a late pass.

I take my time walking to the front of the school, thinking about the meet next week. I am ready—I’m always ready . . . the part of me that everyone’s watching, that is. But something’s missing. I used to feel a rush of excitement at least a week before I’d be competing. I used to go online to look at the members of the opposing teams to see who I’d be up against and then picture their faces as I practiced jumping.

This year is different. Dad is being even harder on me than normal because I’m a junior. He says now is when scouts are going to start looking at me, and that if I want to get to the Olympics, I have to start treating hurdles like they’re my job.

The older secretary is working the attendance office. She barely even looks up as she scrawls on the square of paper and rips it from the pad, sliding it across the counter.

“Thanks,” I say, and when I turn around to walk back out, I run straight into a guy. I lose my grip on the late pass, and it flutters to the floor.

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