The Distance by Jacqueline Woodson

Author:Jacqueline Woodson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Laurence and the rest of the quarter-mile relay team are getting ready to run. Laurence is bent over, his ankles crossed, his fingertips touching the ground. I should be doing the same thing: stretching out my hamstrings some more.

“Can’t believe you let a Packy lap you like that, bro. Two steps with those long legs, and you’re around the track.”

“Can’t believe you blew up our team like that,” the second-leg guy says. He hands Laurence the baton and Laurence gets behind him, and the third and fourth legs line up in front so that it goes first leg to fourth leg—back to front. They stand, bent forward now, only a little distance between them, and start running in place.

“Stick!” Laurence says, and the second-leg guy reaches his hand back so that Laurence can slap the baton into it. They go through the line doing this a few times, their motions fluid as water—like they’ve been doing this all their lives. Like it’s natural as breathing.

“He didn’t lap me. What was my split?”

“You don’t want to know your splits, trust me.” Laurence says between passes.

“It’s a stupid race,” I say. “I don’t know why he even put me in it. It’s not for human beings. It’s for people on steroids like that Packy dude.”

A whole bunch of Packer guys are still jumping all over the steroids guy. He’s grinning wide and scratching his beard.

Laurence and the others finish their practice and go back to stretching.

“The truth is, you got lapped because you ran it like a quarter mile. That’s why you died at the 600. Your first split was 57.” Laurence doesn’t even look up from his stretch. He’s in eighth grade, and for some reason, he’s always all coolness. Like he’s got everything covered forever and ever, amen.

“I ran a 57 quarter? That’s my best time! That’s like world-record material right there—” The air and strength is all back in me now, and I do some happy-dancing, not caring who’s watching.

“Your second split was a sweet 1:37. Which means you ran your second quarter at 97, which might break this meet’s record for the slowest quarter mile ever run.”

I stop dancing real fast. 1:37 isn’t good. It’s old person with a cane, one leg, and a swollen foot time.

“That’s what killed us Second Leg—Joseph—says. That’s what buried us.”

“It’s not two quarter miles.” Laurence unfolds himself and finally looks at me. He’s not as tall as me, but he’s got muscles already. He’s wearing a headband, cuz otherwise his hair would be in his eyes. The band is school colors, and anybody else might get all kinds of words thrown at them for wearing it.

“When you run it again, remember that.”

The first call for their race comes, and the four of them jog over. Me and Laurence have the two-mom thing in common, but that’s about where it ends. Laurence has two dads too. And all his parents live in the same building together. To top it all off, he’s the only child.

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