Breathe, Annie, Breathe
Page 6
“He didn’t hurt anything,” I start, and both guys glance over at me. “It’s not a big de—”
Matt interrupts me. “Jeremiah, I’m trying to build up my reputation—”
The boy holds up a hand. “I get it, I get it—”
“Do you? This is my work, my job, and I’m trying to give you a chance here—”
“Then don’t give up on me before I even start!”
“Guys,” I interrupt, looking between them, but they keep right on arguing as if they’ve forgotten I’m here. Matt smacks Running Backwards Boy on the face with a T-shirt and RBB bops Matt on the head with a water bottle and puts him in a headlock. Matt escapes and puts RBB in a headlock of his own. It’s hard to believe they’re adults right now. They’re baboons.
“Boys!” I exclaim, and they jerk their heads up and stop acting like cavemen. “What in the world?”
“This is my little brother, Jeremiah,” Matt says.
“Little?” Jeremiah snorts.
Matt ignores this. “He just started working for me, pacing people that are hoping to up their game and improve their speed.”
“What do you mean by pacing?” I ask.
Matt says, “It’s like, if somebody wants to finish a marathon in a certain amount of time, Jere will run alongside them and keep them on pace so they finish before their goal time—you need a certain time to run big races like Boston. Pacing is what Jere does best.”
Jeremiah looks pleased at the compliment. That must be why the man was chasing after him on the trails today.
“But I’ll still be working with you sometimes,” Jeremiah tells me. “I’ll be helping Matt with the Saturday and Sunday long runs.”
“So I have two running coaches now?” I ask.
“Something like that,” Jeremiah flirts, eyes flickering up and down my body, earning him another nasty look from his brother.
“Jere, I’m serious. If you don’t take this job seriously, that’s it. You won’t get another chance from me.” Matt gives his brother a pointed look. Why would Matt chastise him in front of me?
Is he warning me too? I’ve only known Matt a couple weeks, but he always seems even-keeled. Why’s he so strict with his brother?
Jeremiah’s face clouds over. “See you next week, Annie.” He gives me a curt nod, then follows his brother over to help pack up the water coolers and towels. He doesn’t look back.
Given how by-the-book and prepared he is, training with Matt has been calm and cool so far.
Jeremiah makes me feel anything but.
•••
I climb the crumbling, concrete steps and push open the screen door to our trailer.
A stick of butter, a loaf of bread, and a block of cheese sit on our counter, away from the brownish section where the egg-colored plaster has flaked away.
My older brother is cooking a grilled cheese and listening to the Braves game on the radio. Nick sets the spatula down to kiss my forehead. He smells like grease and exhaust fumes from doing oil changes down at Caldwell Auto Parts.
He flips his sandwich. It sizzles in the frying pan and makes my stomach rumble. I’m starving, but I don’t think I can hold any food down. Running screws with my stomach—I can’t tell if I need to eat or use the bathroom.
“How’d today go?” Nick asks.
“I finished!”
“All six miles?”
I nod, and he beams. I’d never seen him so happy as when I told him I was training for the marathon.
He scoops the grilled cheese onto a plate. “You hungry? I’ll make you one of these.”
“No, thanks. Matt’s meal plan says I’m supposed to have pizza and salad for lunch today.”
At that, Nick flips the gas off and drops his pan in the sink, then pours a mound of potato chips onto his plate, flicks off the radio, and hustles to the living room to watch the game on TV.
Mom flits into the kitchen, brushing her wet curly brown hair. Nick got his dark, floppy hair from her; my straight strawberry blond must come from my father’s side.
She searches under a stack of old newspapers, a hand towel, and the teetering pile of mail. I grab her keys from the hook where Nick undoubtedly hung them up and pass them to her.
“Thank you,” she says, pocketing them. Our eyes meet for just a second before we both look away. “How’d your run go, sweetie?”
“I finished it.”
A small smile appears on her lips. “I’m so glad.”
I nod.
Matt interrupts me. “Jeremiah, I’m trying to build up my reputation—”
The boy holds up a hand. “I get it, I get it—”
“Do you? This is my work, my job, and I’m trying to give you a chance here—”
“Then don’t give up on me before I even start!”
“Guys,” I interrupt, looking between them, but they keep right on arguing as if they’ve forgotten I’m here. Matt smacks Running Backwards Boy on the face with a T-shirt and RBB bops Matt on the head with a water bottle and puts him in a headlock. Matt escapes and puts RBB in a headlock of his own. It’s hard to believe they’re adults right now. They’re baboons.
“Boys!” I exclaim, and they jerk their heads up and stop acting like cavemen. “What in the world?”
“This is my little brother, Jeremiah,” Matt says.
“Little?” Jeremiah snorts.
Matt ignores this. “He just started working for me, pacing people that are hoping to up their game and improve their speed.”
“What do you mean by pacing?” I ask.
Matt says, “It’s like, if somebody wants to finish a marathon in a certain amount of time, Jere will run alongside them and keep them on pace so they finish before their goal time—you need a certain time to run big races like Boston. Pacing is what Jere does best.”
Jeremiah looks pleased at the compliment. That must be why the man was chasing after him on the trails today.
“But I’ll still be working with you sometimes,” Jeremiah tells me. “I’ll be helping Matt with the Saturday and Sunday long runs.”
“So I have two running coaches now?” I ask.
“Something like that,” Jeremiah flirts, eyes flickering up and down my body, earning him another nasty look from his brother.
“Jere, I’m serious. If you don’t take this job seriously, that’s it. You won’t get another chance from me.” Matt gives his brother a pointed look. Why would Matt chastise him in front of me?
Is he warning me too? I’ve only known Matt a couple weeks, but he always seems even-keeled. Why’s he so strict with his brother?
Jeremiah’s face clouds over. “See you next week, Annie.” He gives me a curt nod, then follows his brother over to help pack up the water coolers and towels. He doesn’t look back.
Given how by-the-book and prepared he is, training with Matt has been calm and cool so far.
Jeremiah makes me feel anything but.
•••
I climb the crumbling, concrete steps and push open the screen door to our trailer.
A stick of butter, a loaf of bread, and a block of cheese sit on our counter, away from the brownish section where the egg-colored plaster has flaked away.
My older brother is cooking a grilled cheese and listening to the Braves game on the radio. Nick sets the spatula down to kiss my forehead. He smells like grease and exhaust fumes from doing oil changes down at Caldwell Auto Parts.
He flips his sandwich. It sizzles in the frying pan and makes my stomach rumble. I’m starving, but I don’t think I can hold any food down. Running screws with my stomach—I can’t tell if I need to eat or use the bathroom.
“How’d today go?” Nick asks.
“I finished!”
“All six miles?”
I nod, and he beams. I’d never seen him so happy as when I told him I was training for the marathon.
He scoops the grilled cheese onto a plate. “You hungry? I’ll make you one of these.”
“No, thanks. Matt’s meal plan says I’m supposed to have pizza and salad for lunch today.”
At that, Nick flips the gas off and drops his pan in the sink, then pours a mound of potato chips onto his plate, flicks off the radio, and hustles to the living room to watch the game on TV.
Mom flits into the kitchen, brushing her wet curly brown hair. Nick got his dark, floppy hair from her; my straight strawberry blond must come from my father’s side.
She searches under a stack of old newspapers, a hand towel, and the teetering pile of mail. I grab her keys from the hook where Nick undoubtedly hung them up and pass them to her.
“Thank you,” she says, pocketing them. Our eyes meet for just a second before we both look away. “How’d your run go, sweetie?”
“I finished it.”
A small smile appears on her lips. “I’m so glad.”
I nod.
