"She's a weird specimen."

Kevin tore his eyes away from Willow for just long enough to shoot his coach a questioning glance. "How so?"

Coach Ryan's face wrinkled as if trying to figure out a hard math equation. "When you watch her run in a race, she seems so carefree, almost as if it's purely natural talent that she relies on. Yet..." He trailed off, joining Kevin in staring in appreciation at Willow warming up. Or rather, continuing to warm up.

Coach Ryan had followed through on his gym talk and now Kevin was sore before he even started warming up. He had humored Willow for fifteen minutes but after realizing she was nowhere done with her extensive routine, he quickly joined Coach Ryan on the bench where he did just enough stretches to stay loose as they watched. It had now been thirty minutes and it seemed that she was finishing up.

"It's like a personality shift for sure," Kevin commented. 

Despite his words, he was beginning to understand her philosophy of preparing the absolute best you could and living with the results. That seemed to be the secret behind her peaceful stride in the big races.

Finally, Willow waved them over. Coach Ryan had smartly chosen a late Saturday night to hold the practice so that they had the track to themselves. It was a plan that wouldn't have worked out in the average high schooler's schedule on such short notice, but both Willow and Kevin unsurprisingly had no qualms with the development.

"If you stretched any longer you might've ended up passing me in height," Kevin said as they reached her.

Willow smiled that carefree smile that only made an appearance when she was doing what she loved. "Wouldn't be much of a height difference, would it?"

Kevin chuckled. "Fair point."

"Alright!" Coach Ryan interrupted with a clap. "Enough chit-chat, let's get down to business."

And get down to business they did. Coach didn't take it easy because it wasn't one of their normal training days, quite the opposite in fact. He seemed to be motivated by having another talented person to work with and went even harder than he usually did. 

By the second hour, all over was crying for Kevin to escape the torture chamber he found himself in and his torturer finally obliged. 

As a long-standing athlete, Kevin had gotten accustomed to being sore, it was pretty much second nature for him, but gym soreness? That was a whole other monster that he couldn't quite get used to.

"You look like you just ran two marathons," Willow said as she plopped down next to him in the stands. As he glanced over he noticed that she too seemed to still be catching her breath, though she was certainly hiding it better than him. 

Maybe she was human after all.

"We didn't? Sure felt like it." Kevin replied.

Willow laughed lightly before watching Coach Ryan depart through the stadium's exit. He had said something about not going home early to keep his wife happy. "It's really refreshing to have a coach like that I'll bet. He seems really focused and considerate."

Kevin smiled. "His frequent ideas for improvement do get old after a while though," Kevin joked.

"I'll bet." She replied, though her voice lacked humor. "I wonder though, if your coach is this good and you usually train this hard why do you feel the need to prove something every time you run in a race."

Kevin shrugged. "Isn't that the point of it all?"

"But don't you plan to make a career out of this?"

Kevin only had to think for a brief moment. "Yes."

"Then shouldn't you be thinking more long term like I said before? The greats aren't the greats just because they break records in a single race or for a single season. Records are made to be broken, after all. They become great when they show dominance over a long period of time."

Once again, Kevin struggled to find fault in the logic in her words. "You know, in an alternate universe you're probably some big speaker like Jordan Peterson or something."

Willow laughed. "Gross."

"Actually," Kevin said, turning to her, "I don't know much about you outside of being a good athlete."

"Yeah, I guess you don't." As Kevin pointedly let the silence stretch across the distance, Willow sighed. "There isn't much to know, really. I hate home because my parents are so annoying, always quarreling over something. I wish they would just break up or go away." Kevin winced. "And originally I wanted to be a soccer player," Willow continued, "but that didn't exactly...work out."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

Willow gestured at her body. "Too frail for a contact sport is what I was told at my eleventh visit to the hospital. Naturally, I wanted to prove them wrong but I also loved running so I tried out for the track team on a whim and it happened to work out like this."

"Is that why you're scared of putting strain on your body like back at the Peter James Invitational?" Kevin asked, piecing her words together. "Because you're scared of injuring yourself again?"

For a second, Willow's mask of strength shimmered, replaced briefly by the surprised look of a very vulnerable soul. "What?" 

Kevin lifted his knee and pointed to it, memories of darker times breaking his mind's surface. "I've also suffered injuries and this particular one was a bit major and still hasn't fully healed."

"What?" Willow repeated, disbelief now laced in her voice. "You've suffered a major injury and you still run so recklessly, are you mad?"

Kevin shrugged. "I understand that haunting feeling that you must feel, always thinking that your body might give out in the next race and make it your last. But, I think it's best to not drown in that fear, you know?"

Willow shook her head. "You may be dumber than I give you credit for."

Kevin smirked. "I don't think being dumb is always a bad thing."

Willow stared at him with those light brown eyes that took him to a different world, one much more peaceful and carefree, where life was indeed sunshine and lollipops with a tint of cotton candy. 

"Perhaps not." She whispered the words so faintly that Kevin couldn't be completely sure she had said them at all.

Kevin jumped, his generic ringtone suddenly disturbing their bubble. He peeped at the screen and was greeted by the words 'unidentified caller'. Usually, he didn't bother answering those numbers, since they ended up being people who typed in the wrong number most of the time. 

However, in his current good spirits, he didn't mind answering and informing the person of their mistake. "Hello?" he said, the words wrong number heavy on his tongue.

"Good evening, is this Kevin Matthews?" A professional sounding voice asked. Her voice was soothing but there was a certain urgency in her tone.

"Yes, it is."

"I'm calling from the Crest View Recovery Center.."  Kevin inhaled sharply, his jovial demeanor scattering like birds flying away from the sound of a gunshot. Because that name was a gunshot; no good news could possibly follow behind it.

"It's about your mother..."