Page 77 of The Lucky One
The finish line was just half a lap ahead. Why does pain feel painful? I mused, and suddenly I was running even faster.
I sprinted over the finish line and collapsed to the ground, laugh-cough-panting all at once. The teacher gave me an approving thumbs-up.
“Look at you, running so fast on those little legs,” Aiden teased, settling down next to me in a relaxed posture.
“Only thanks to you,” I panted, giving him a fist bump. He cradled his fist in mock pain, grimacing dramatically, before bursting into laughter.
“Didn’t you finish your laps like... what, five minutes ago?” I asked.
“Yep.” Aiden shrugged. “But my European buddy needed a little push, so I didn’t mind running extra.”
“You’re crazy.” My legs already felt like they wouldn’t be functioning tomorrow.
I used to think people went running to distract themselves from their problems. But the sense of accomplishment blooming in my chest after pushing my body to its limits was empowering. Maybe Paul wasn’t just avoiding his issues, going out jogging. Maybe he was craving this exact feeling.
We got up and headed to the dressing rooms to quench our thirst from one of those water fountains America had everywhere. When I first saw them, I was grossed out by the thought of so many people using them. But right now, I welcomed the opportunity to soothe the burning in my throat.
“It’s cool to see you like this,” Aiden said, leaning down to take a drink himself.
“Like what?”
“Happy. I saw you and Jon in the hall. You make a great couple.”
A broad grin came over me. Someone was on our side.
“By the way, you should come with me and Leni to the lake today,” Aiden added. “It’ll be fun.”
“I’m meeting Jon after school, but I’ll ask him.”
We high-fived our goodbyes and I took a much-needed shower to wash away the dirt and sweat from my run. But I didn’t have time to wash my hair, and my scalp itched as I left the gym. I’d have to replan my hair-washing schedule when I got home.
As usual, students were huddled in a corner outside the school, smoking weed. But I saw them differently this time. They looked clouded, destroyed by what they were consuming.
I fished out my emergency pack of cigarettes from my backpack and threw it in the trash. I wouldn’t need them anymore. Life was easier now, happier with him by my side. I was fine.
I gazed down at the whole raw chicken on the table. It gave off a faintly sweet, feral smell. Chef Sayle had demonstrated the art of cutting up the carcass without wasting any meat, and now it was our turn. Danielle had plunged into the task, while Breana stood off to the side, her face pale.
“Timo said he had a good time on our double date,” Danielle told me.“And I did too.” The bones of her chicken cracked as she admitted it. “You were right, Jon isn’t that bad.”
A wide smile stretched across my face. We’d gone out for dinner at a burger place, and though Jon was charming, funny and gentle, Danielle had given him scrutinizing looks no matter what he did. I ran over and hugged her, oblivious to the fact that she was holding a knife. “I knew you two would get along if you gave him a chance!”
She jerked the knife out of the way. “Yeah. I’m still suspicious, though.”
“I’m completely fine with that.” I grinned and went back to my chicken-slaughtering station, as Zack would probably call it.
“Guys,” Chef Sayle called, rapping a wooden spoon against a pot. “Remember, you’ll need those chicken pieces for your final dish. Pay close attention, and don’t forget the salt—I expect nothing less than perfection from all of you!”
“I can’t do this!” Breana suddenly exclaimed. “This is wrong. I’m vegetarian. I should get an exemption!”
Chef Sayle approached her with a weary expression. “Breana, do you only want to serve vegetarians when you work at a restaurant?”
“We’re not in 1975 anymore,” she sassed. “There are plenty of vegetarian and vegan restaurants around, and they’ll take over the market very soon.”
Chef Sayle sighed into his palm. “Breana, that chicken is already dead. If you don’t cut it up it’ll go to waste.”
Breana rolled her eyes and begrudgingly took up the knife. “Fine, but you better consider exemptions for future students.”
I tensed at the thought of the future. We only had a few weeks left before summer was around the corner—and with that, the end of my adventure.