His heart thumped away in his chest but he felt the pounding in his head. Running was a passion of his. He just loved the wind in his hair and the feeling of his blood rushing throughout his body. His feet pounded the track as he zoomed past the other runners, 'Man, they are slow!' he thought as he wasn’t even trying, barely sprinting. Alan had been running in almost all of the events in the track meet at his high school. Though he wasn't yet the star of the team, he was the fastest at the meet. He slaughtered Modesto High's runners, along with the three other school's runners, in the one hundred and four hundred meter dash, long jump, and was about to do it again in the mile. Since the javelin throw and the pole vault came between the long jump and mile, not to mention the ten competitors for each, Alan Abbot had just enough time to catch his breath.
Alan was a typical seventeen year old: didn't care for class, thought he knew it all, cared only for himself and what he liked, dealt with bullies almost hourly, and had an average home life. When people ask about where he lives during track meets, he tells them that he lives in the “Land of Midgets” because ninety percent of his hometown, Sylvan Halls, comes up just below his shoulder. Thing is, Alan stands six foot three. For his slender build he was quite strong; only showing his true power when he was in a fight and wanted to end it quickly, or was moving heavy machinery around his dad's yard when the tractor was out. All his strength came from his thighs and the way he would contort his body to channel the energy from his legs to his arms. The bullies knew when to back off because two weeks ago, Alan knocked a kid's lights out with only a couple of quick jabs.
On his way back to the field house, after his win in the long jump, there was a tall brunette standing at the door. She stood maybe a couple inches shorter than Alan did. Though Alan wouldn't see it, her sapphire blue eyes sparkled like the crystal blue waters of the oceans. Her long, brown hair stopped just short of her hips. Alan didn't notice her until he almost ran into her.
“Oh! Chavonne! I didn't see you there. What are you doin' down here?” he asked looking surprised and almost falling backwards. He was more surprised at himself for not seeing her until the last second. 'I'm usually so vigilant. Hmm, oh well.' he thought.
“Oh, nothing.” Because she had a crush on him, and the close quarters, Chavonne blushed a bright red under her light brown fur. So red in fact, she'd make an apple jealous. “I just wanted to wish you luck in the mile,” she said meekly, too bashful to look Alan in the eye and fiddled with her tail..
“Yeah, thanks. I may need it,” he replied jokingly. He chuckled and Ms. Johnson giggled knowing he was the fastest at the meet. She knew he didn't need luck, it was the away team that did; she just wanted to talk to him. Chavonne wanted to work up the nerve to ask him out but couldn't because of her ex, Chad McBain, star of the football team. Ever since she dated him, her private life was almost non-existent. In the three years of them going out, Chad would never let Chavonne out of his sight and would control her every move, and still won't. She stayed with him only to try to work it out between them to where he wasn't so bossy and controlling, which didn't work too well.
The announcer came on over the intercom calling for all participants for the mile to line up at the start. Once the competitors were in place at the start, the referee gave the calls and shot the gun to signal the start. The runners were off, Alan taking an early lead but then slowed and took last, letting the others get ahead. At the end of the first lap, he stayed exactly one second behind; he held that spot until he twisted his ankle coming into the first turn on the second lap. Unable to avoid going down, Alan went limp, absorbing the impact and letting his body roll with it. Adrenaline was now pumping in his blood as he picked himself up and high tailed it back to the race. He shot down the track like a rocket, his arms and legs a blur. He was quickly closing the gap. 'Now, this is what I call fun!' he thought. On the back straight, Abbot had to pick up his pace as the other runners were now trying to go just as fast as him. He was now seventy feet back and closing. Last lap and he was still twenty feet short. This is where Alan kicked it into overdrive and rocketed past seventh, sixth, fifth, passing them one at a time until he reached first. Holding that position, Alan drew in one deep breath and went for it. Twenty feet from the line, he reversed his direction and ran across the line backwards. Crossing the finish line, there was an explosion of cheers and jeers. Only minutes after crossing the line into victory, event officials called Alan to the field house.
“Alan Abbot?” asked an official sitting at a table by the door.
“Yes sir. What was I called in for?” Alan replied with a deep southern drawl. He heard yelling in one of the offices, but couldn't figure if it was joy or anger.
Catching his gaze, the attendant said, “Yeah, that's the room you're going to. Well, it sounds like he's fired up about the news.”
“What news?”
“Dunno.” They walked to the door and the attendant knocked, shutting the yelling up, “Coach? Abbot's here to see you.”
A deep rasp came through the door, “Send him in.” Coach was a mountain of a man. He was so tall and broad shouldered that when he went through a door, he had to both duck and side step to get in. Not only did he coach track, but he also coached football and baseball. His attitude and actions contradicted his looks and age: he acted like a twenty-one year old fresh out of boot camp, but was bald and hunched over like a fifty year old though he was only forty-two. He did his best to keep a straight face as he said, “Alan, I've got some news. I don't know if you're gonna like it or not, but here it is.” he let out a heavy sigh, “You've been selected to go to a summer camp for athletes. It's a four week trip and only two athletes per school attend. There are six from each region of the U.S., and two from countries around the world. Each athlete gets to bring one friend/family member.” Coach leaned back on his desk and folded his arms as he waited for Alan to respond.
“I can bring anyone I want?”
Coach nodded.
“Exactly when is it?”
“It’s the last two weeks in June and first two weeks of July. So, you still have some time to prepare.”
“Alright, I'll go, but only because I have nothing better to do this summer,” Alan answered.
“Word of warning: the person you take with you needs to be good at boosting your morale, because that's what they're there for,” Coach added.
With a wave and a nod, the athlete headed back to the track to receive his award. With his four wins under his belt, he hurtled Sylvan High in to first place with Modesto in third. Once the field and stands had cleared, the students of SHS had to head back to class as they still had an hour left in their Friday. Alan stayed behind to help clear the crowd. On his way back, he paid no attention to what was going on around him except for when he heard a voice that sounded eerily similar to Chavonne's, but they sounded as if they had been crying.
“Why won't you leave me alone? We broke up weeks ago! You can't tell me what to do anymore!” choked the voice. Alan was taking lighter steps to keep quiet.
“Because I don't want to!” barked a male.
Alan was now peering around the corner. The girl, Chavonne, had her back to the wall, hands up, and a twisted up face. A guy was standing over her. Only one person came to Alan's mind, Chad. He was one of those kids that thought he could use his size against others. Being the star of the football team helped him out, as that's what kept him out of trouble because the teachers just over looked him. Alan's movement caught Chad's eye.
“Who's th- Abbot?”
“Chad? What are you doing making Chavonne cry?”
“That's none of your business, so unless you want my fist down your throat, I suggest you leave.”
“Oh, I'll leave alright. Chav's coming with me, and you can't do jack shit about it,” Alan said turning to Chavonne and taking her hand. “Come on, Chav,” he said a little softer. They had just started to leave when Alan was choked by his shirt collar. Chad had him by the collar and yanked him clear off his feet.
“Oh, no! Not with her, you're not,” Chad growled.
Alan braced for impact, just knowing Chad was about to send a fist his way. Alan ducked and Chad missed. Punches were thrown and landed between the two rivals. The two looked as if they were in a no rules wrestling match. Since Alan was a quarter the size of Chad, he used it to his advantage and kept slipping free of every hold he was put in. Chavonne tried to pull the two apart but was pushed away soon after. She was knocked off her balance by the shove and fell on her small rump, which did little to soften her landing, hitting the floor with a heavy “oomph!” She got back up with a bit of effort and tried to separate the two again. She was successful but right as she got between them, she saw a fist coming her way and she was out. The dull sound of her head hitting the floor pulled the boys away from each other, and made them realize what happened.
“Dude, what have we done? Is she alright? Oh, shit we're so screwed!” Chad panicked. He wasn't paying attention to what Alan was doing. “What are you doin'?” he asked curiously.
Kneeling beside her, Alan rolled Chavonne onto her back and tried to find her pulse by putting his index finger and middle finger on her carotid artery. “My training. I took a survival class last year and I'm certified in CPR,” Alan replied without taking his eyes off Chavonne. “Shit! I'm losing her pulse.” As soon as her pulse stopped, Alan immediately prepared to do mouth to mouth resuscitation. He opened her jaw, lightly pinched her nose, put his lips to hers and softly forced air into her lungs with a couple of huffs. He leaned back and checked her pulse again. It was there but very, very weak. Alan laid one hand over the other, interlaced his fingers and placed them on her chest, pushing almost twice a second. Chad just stood there like the idiot he was. Alan gave him a dirty look without stopping.
“What?”
“Get help you inconsiderate fool!” Alan growled low, trying to keep his hatred for Chad in check.
“What do you what me to tell them?”
“I don't care! Just don't tell them we got into a fight! Now GO!” Alan commanded. Chad nodded and ran down the hall looking for a principal. Alan continued CPR, slowly getting more and more progress. Once Alan felt her heart beat as it should, he let out a sigh of relief. He went and sat by her head, set it in his lap, and slightly patted her on the cheek to get her to wake up. She didn't come to until the principals arrived along with the EMTs. One of the principals pulled Alan aside to speak with him in private.
“What happened here?” she asked in a hushed, but hurried tone.
Doing his best to lie, which he was not very good at, Alan replied, “I came out the bathroom when I saw Chavonne on the floor out cold with Chad just standing there looking stupid.”
Apparently, it worked because the shorter woman believed him with a slight chuckle, saying, “Well, he does a good job at that.”
One of the emergency medical technicians walked over and asked who it was that saved Chavonne, with Alan quickly responding with a raised hand. “Are you Alan?” he asked.
“Yes sir.”
“The young lady over there is askin’ for ya.”
“You and I will talk about this later,” the principal told Alan.
Alan nodded as he stepped over to Chavonne. “You wanted me, Chav?” Alan spoke softly. She just stuck a hand in the air, which Alan took. The girl on the floor weakly smiled and pulled her savior on top of her and into a kiss. Surprised, he sat bolt upright. “What was that for?” he asked.
“You saved me, I wanted to thank you, and you already kissed me, so that was pay back,” Chavonne said with a slight giggle.
Towards the end of class, Alan headed for the principal’s office that wanted to talk to him. Knock knock. Alan stepped in asking, “You wanted me, Ms. Bailey?” His face was neutral.
“Oh, you didn’t have to come in. I said that just for the EMT. But, since you’re here, I do have something for you.” She began digging in her desk, looking for something. “Ah-ha! Here it is!” she said as she pulled out a certificate with Alan’s name on it. “It’s from us for saving Chavonne. Not many students would keep a level head like you in a situation like that, especially with someone they hate standing there.” The certificate was embroidered with gold and read, “This certificate is awarded to: Alan Abbot for: saving a fellow student a keeping a level head in the time of need. It is awarded by: Ms. Chelsea Bailey on February 21st, 2014.” “And one more thing did you and Chad get into another fight? Both of you have bruises.”
“Mine are from when I fell in the race. I don’t know about Chad’s.”
“Well, don’t get into any, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Alan nodded, not being formal so much as minding his manners. He left her office and headed down the hall to go home when Chavonne pounced on him.
“Just wanted to say I’m sorry for forcing that kiss earlier,” she said with a small smile.
“It’s OK, I just wasn’t expecting it,” Alan replied.
“Well, I have a question,” she blushed that crimson red again.
“Ask away.”
“Would you take me out to dinner?” her blush deepened.
Her questioned caught him off guard. “Are you asking me on a date?” He thought about her question a little more. “Sure. I’ll pick you up next Saturday at 7. Your choice to where we eat.” In the back of his mind, he was cursing himself. ‘What have you gotten yourself into? Idiot!’ The two parted ways, Chavonne walking to the school's student parking to retrieve her car while Alan remained motionless, watching her hips sway as she rounded the corner of the building, then heading for home.
