Author's Note: It's not that great. Pretty much a filler chapter. But the next chapter is gonna be loads better, promise! My excuse is that I'm babysitting a one year old baby, and it's kinda difficult to write very well while keeping an eye on an infant! Next chapter should be up in a couple of days, and if you're a Losing Grip reader, next chapter tomorrow or Wednesday! And don't forget to comment, comment, comment, and vote, vote, vote! Most people vote, but don't comment, if you're voting, drop a comment! I'd appreciate it! 

Chapter 8 - How Do You Know About That?

“You wanna get outta here?” Reese wonders as he pulls away from me a few minutes later.

I shake my head, “I really can’t. I have track practice.”

“And I have basketball practice. Can’t you skip it just this once?”

“I’m really sorry, Reese. But I can’t. I missed twice last week.” I lie, just looking for an excuse.

I’d be fine with staying here with him in this parking lot making out with him, but I don’t wanna, ‘get outta here’, because that insinuates going to his house or some other location and doing…things. Things that I am emotionally and mentally not ready to do. If I wanted to, I could leave, and just skip practice. Sure, I’d probably get hell from Coach tomorrow, but if I wanted to skip, I could. And as badly as I do want to go home and go to sleep, if I don’t practice, I won’t get better at running. I’m not trying to be the next Lolo Jones or anything, hell track is just a healthy pastime for me, really.

Reese shrugs, nonchalantly. “That’s okay. Here, gimme your number and I’ll text you or something.”

I nod, “Okay.”

I open my notebook and snatch out a blank piece of notebook paper and then find a black ink pen in my backpack. I scribble the seven digits across the paper, then write my name under it as neatly as I can manage. When I’m done, I hand the paper to Reese. He looks at it for a second before folding it into a little square and shoving it down in his pocket.

“Alright, cool. I’ll text you later on tonight.”

“Okay,” I reply, smiling probably like an idiot.

He gives me a slight smile and then a tiny wave as he takes off across the parking lot, heading towards the practice gym. That’s where the boys have their basketball practices at. I wonder if Drew is in there. He is on the basketball team after all. I’ve never understood why my school has a practice gym. It looks just like the regular school gym with the basketball court and all that stuff, the same with the football fields. We’ve got a practice field and a playing field. The football team never goes on the real field unless there’s a home game. I wasn’t sure why that was and Bradley told me it’s because the real field has really nice turf and the practice field is just plain grass. Apparently they don’t wanna mess the turf up.

I put my pen back in my backpack and tuck my phone and Bradley’s car keys into my Nike bag for safekeeping. Slinging the bag over to my opposite shoulder, I look both ways - I’m very precautions - and then cross across the lot, heading towards the real football field which is encased by the track. I walk down the firm stone steps, and when I reach the end, I plop down on a bleacher near the front, waiting for Coach to come out.

Most of the track team has already arrived, I’ve noticed. The  boys are down here too. The boys track team, I mean. Usually the girls and boys track teams practice separately, us girls out here and the boys on the indoor track. I don’t really have any track friends, which makes practices very lonely, but oh well. I decide that right now is as good a time as any to start on my complicated Trigonometry homework. I really should have done it in fourth block study hall, but I fell asleep.

I pull my calculator from my backpack along with a pencil and take out the worksheet, beginning to solve the problems. Attempt to anyways. I’m on number five of forty-two when a whistle blows loudly. I sigh, closing the binder and putting my calculator and pencil up. I avert my attention to the track, where Coach Petersburg is standing as he always is.

“Good evening girls. And guys. I hope everyone had a nice weekend. Today the boys team will be practicing with us, as Coach Jameson is out sick with the pneumonia.”

Coach Petersburg is kinda really weird. He always refers to things like that. Like things that don’t need the article, ‘the’ in front of them, he adds it anyway. For example, if you ask him what his favorite Mexican restaurant is, he’ll be like, “The Taco Bell.” It doesn’t bother me or anything, I just think it’s kinda funny.

“So go get dressed, and head back out here. I’ve got a surprise for you girls.” He says, excitedly.

Uh oh. This can’t be good. If Coach is excited about something in track, that usually means the rest of us go home with very sore legs, cursing his name. I grab my bag though, and exit the bleachers heading towards the locker room. When I get in there, I pull my shirt over my head, folding it neatly and sitting it down on the bench and pulling out my track shirt.

“Did you hear about Sydney?” Some girl says from the opposite side of the locker room, near the lockers.

"Sydney, who?” Another voice comes. 

“Barker. The one on the team.” Girl number one says.  

I place the voice as Fallon Richards’, the fastest runner on our team. Fallon is insanely popular, and she’s totally loaded. Well, rather her parents are. Despite the normal stereotype, she’s not all that mean and she’s not a cheerleader. I’ve spoken to her a few times, mostly when we were paired up last summer during the strenuous track practices as ‘death buddies’.

I know, stupid name, and it was pretty much the worse two months of my life. I’d have to get out of bed every day excluding Wednesday, Friday and Sunday and come to the school. And do what? Run. In the 100+ degree weather. I have a newfound respect for foot players, namely Bradley since they had to be out here all summer, every single day practicing for off-season or whatever the hell it was called.

“No, what about her?” Girl number two wonders. I now know that that’s Paige Parsons voice. Paige isn’t really anything special - no offence to her, but yeah. I don’t really know her all that well, but she isn’t popular or anything around the school.

“Well I heard that she and Reese Logan are like a thing now.”

Paige gasps, “What? The Reese Logan?”

“Yes,” Fallon says solemnly.

I nearly gag and die right there. Me and Reese a thing? As in, dating? I wouldn’t date Reese even if he asked me to. He’s got a huge ego, and I don’t even know him. You’re probably wondering; ‘Then why are you going around kissing him?’ Well, he’s hot. Like really hot.

And he doesn’t wanna date me, just like I don’t wanna date him, so there’s no problem, really. And besides, my friends seem keen on making sure that nothing, and I mean, nothing happens between Reese and me. They continue to talk, but I don’t listen, having lost interest. I have a pretty short attention span, or so I’m told. I finish getting dressed and then take my bag, putting it in my locker and closing it in there. I don’t bother correcting Fallon on her misinformation, just because I don’t want to look like I was eavesdropping. Even though I was.

I leave the locker room, letting the door close behind me before slowly and sluggishly walking to the track where Coach Petersburg is standing with a smile stretched across his face. This track practice isn’t going to be fun. I can already tell.

-------

I walk into my house, closing the door behind me and force my legs to walk to the stairs. I climb up them slowly and achingly until I make it to the top and then to my room. I collapse on my bed, breathing a huge sigh of relief in the fact that I’m not dead. I honestly didn’t think I’d make it home alive after that deceitful practice.

After the rest of the girls had come out of the locker room, Coach told us what his huge surprise was. Rather, he showed it. Do you want to know what his surprise was? Hurdles. That’s what his surprise was. You know, generally surprises are supposed to be fun, happy, not terrible and horrible and just all around bad. I discovered something about myself today as I was running around that track, trying to jump those hurdles. I discovered a couple of things, actually.

1. I can’t jump over hurdles.

2. I should never try again to jump over hurdles.

I attempted to do the hurdles, I really did, and I failed each time. After three, I said, ‘fuck it’, and quit. Coach had the hurdles lines up, spaced out at about thirty-five feet. We’d run, and then, you know, jump over our hurdle. The first time, I fell. The second time, I fell. The third time, I did not fall. The third time, I tripped and the hurdle fell.

My phone rings and I whine, not wanting to move a muscle. Damn myself for picking out Die Young as my ringtone. I can’t just ignore it. I force myself to sit up, and retrieve the phone from my bag, pulling it to my ear.

“Hello?” I ask, my voice raspy.

"Sydney, h-“ Walker stops short and then says, “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m dying.” I say, dramatically.

“I doubt it.”

“What’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?’

“Lying on my bed, feeling paralyzed.”

Walker laughs at that, “I don’t think you can feel paralyzed, Syd.”

I shrug, which hurts my sensitive shoulder muscles, “Well it hurts when I move.”

“Was track practice really that bad?”

“Yes!” I whine. “I had to do hurdles, and I fell! Now I have numerous scratches on my knee.”

“Aw, you poor baby.” Walker says, feigning sympathy.

“Is there a reason you called?” I ask, wanting to just take a hot bath, pig out on some food and watch Spiderman or something.

“There is, actually.” He tells me.

I wait for him to elaborate but when he doesn’t, I say, “Well you gonna tell me what it is?”

“Oh right,” I have such airheaded friends, honestly. “Your mom told me to tell you that you have to babysit.”

“What?”

"I said, your mom told me to tell you that you have to babysit.”

“Why did my mom tell you to tell me that I have to babysit and not me?” I wonder. “Where’d you even see my mom?”

“Wal-Mart.” He says simply. “I was buying some Theraflu for Alison.”

“Aw,” I say, remembering that Alison got sick at school today. “How is she?”

“She’s okay, I guess. She has a fever, but she’s refusing to go to the doctor.”

“Well send my ‘get well’ wishes.” I tell him.

“Will do,” Walker assures me. In the background, I hear the sound of a throaty retching sound, and assume it’s Alison throwing up again. And there’s my cue to end this phone conversation.

“Yeah, you should go take care of that. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, talk to you later.” Walker retorts, before hanging up the phone.

Poncho runs into my room, jumping up on my bed, followed by little brother. I’m glad he’s seven and not like two or something, he’s at that age where’s he’s independent enough to be okay if I take a nap or something.

“Hey Josh,” I say to him as he hops up on my bed.

"Hi Sydney,” He replies, happily.

“How was your day at school?”

“It was good. I got an 'A' on my spelling test.”

“Really? That’s great dude.” I tell him, high-fiving him.

Sydney!” He says very loudly and all of a sudden.

“What?” I ask, caught a bit off guard.

“Will you take me somewhere?”

“That depends,” I tell him. “Where’d you like to go?”

“I wanna go see Dad.”

I sigh inaudibly, “Really? Today? It’s Monday and you’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Please? Please?” He pleads.

I’m super sore, and I don’t feel like driving thirty minutes just to go see my dad. I mean, I just saw the man like a month ago. But then a super brilliant idea pops into my mind. I hold up my index finger to my brother, indicating for him to wait. I pick my phone back up find Drew’s number, calling him.

“Hello?” He answers on the second ring.

“Drewy! You know that I love you, right?”

“What do you want, Syd?” Drew wonders.

I give off a fake gasp, “Why do I have to want something? Can I not just call up one of my best friends just to remind him that I love him?”

“Of course you can, but you never have. So I know you want something.”

“Okay, you’re right. I need you to do me a favor.”

He groans, “Oh no.”

“What? You don’t even know what it is!”

“The last time that sentence left your mouth, we got kicked out of the petting zoo.”

“It’s a petting zoo! Excuse me for thinking I could ride the miniature horse,” I say, chuckling.

Drew laughs at that too before saying, “Okay, fine. What is it that you need?”

“You wanna drive me and my brother to my dad’s house?”

“No.”

“You didn’t even think about! Come on, please?”

“Are your legs broken?”

“I feel like it, yes!” I exclaim.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thank you! I love you Drewy.”

“Mhmm, so you say.” He replies jokingly before hanging the phone up.

“Drew’s gonna take us,” I tell Josh.

“Yay!” He exclaims.

"Yeah, yeah, yay. Go put your shoes on.”

Josh scampers out of the room, Poncho on his trail. I get out of the bed, deciding that I’ll take a nice quick shower. I’ve actually been wanting to ask my dad about something for quite some time. I just haven’t been to visit him, and I don’t really wanna ask him over the phone. I’d ask my mom, but she’d never go for it. My dad is the pushover parent, so I know that with enough persuasion, I can get him to say yes. I take a five minute shower - personal best, baby - and then go back to my room, getting dressed in a coral blue t-shirt with the small orange Polo horse emblem on it. Then I pull on a pair of blue skinny jeans, sliding back on my sandals from school. My muscles are much less sore now that they’ve been partially soaked in steaming hot water.

I grab my cell phone and my house keys which are now attached on to Bradley’s keys and stuff them down into pocket. Going into Josh’s room, I find that he’s playing with Poncho, so I decide to let him bring Poncho along. Arianna isn’t here, and neither is my mom so I can’t just leave little Poncho here all alone.

Going downstairs to get a bottle of water to quench my never-ending thirst I let out a curt shout as I see a body leaning against the counter, eating a banana. It’s just Drew, I can tell, but still, wouldn’t it scare you if you just went in your kitchen and saw some dude eating a banana?

“Wha?” He asks, turning around, still chomping on his banana.

“You scared me,” I explain. “How’d you get in?”

"That key you guys keep under the mat.” Drew replies nonchalantly, shrugging.

I raise my eyebrows, “How do you know about that?”

“I’m smart,” He explicates. “Anyway, are you ready to go?”

I nod, “Yeah, I’m bringing Poncho, is that okay?”

“Bradley’s mutt?”

I hit him on his shoulder, and he sways back, chuckling. “He’s not a mutt!”

“Did I say mutt? I meant puppy. But yeah, that’s fine. Let’s go.”

“Come on Josh!” I call to the living room, as Drew and I leave the kitchen, heading outside.

We all get into Drew’s car, him driving, me in the passenger seat, my brother behind me and Poncho excitedly holding his little head out of the window as Drew speeds down the street, heading towards the highway.