Forever for a Year by B. T. Gottfred Page B

Tried to stop thinking about being bored, though. Tried. Edward and Michael kept talking about all the girls they wanted to have sex with, and it was obvious to me they would never talk to these girls let alone kiss them or anything else. People are so delusional.
    Then I thought: Maybe I should just talk to Carolina. Just to … say I did it. That’s pointless, Trevor. Shit. If she liked you, that Katherine girl would have said so. Instead, she steered you toward Peggy. Maybe go out with Peggy to get close to Carolina? Why would you do that? That’s so fake. And cruel. And pointless. No.
    The run was a 5K. There was no race tomorrow, so this would be our practice race for the week. About halfway through, not feeling even half as tired as I usually did, I had the urge to speed ahead. Maybe just to stop having to listen to Edward and Michael babble on. But I didn’t. I lingered. Like Pasquini said. Linger until …
    *   *   *
    Actually … damn. I should talk to Carolina. Even if I don’t talk to her, I should stop avoiding her. Walk by her. Sit by her. Smile. Screw that. I’m not going to smile. That’s lame. But walk and sit by her? Yeah. Linger …
    *   *   *
    With a mile left, Edward and Michael stopped talking. Both too tired. At the half-mile-to-go mark, they lost a step, then a second, and that’s when I knew it was time. Moved around them and added to the pace. It hurt. Legs shook. Lungs scorched. Head boiled. But I liked it.
    Then I did something so strange. After I left the seniors long behind me but still wasn’t near the sophomores, I said to myself, but out loud, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Pain,” then I smiled like I was some mental patient. And then I ran even faster. Move. Move. Move. Yes. Yes. Yes. The sophomores, Aaron and Tor, were slowing. Or maybe I was getting faster. I said, not out loud this time but in my head, “Mr. Pain, Mr. Pain, Mr. Pain, Mr. Pain…” And …
    I didn’t quite catch them. With about one hundred meters to go, they sensed me nearing fast and gave it a last kick that I couldn’t outdo. But I was close. I knew it. They knew it. Pasquini, and that damn grin of his, knew it too. Know what I didn’t do? Fall to the ground. Remained on my feet. I could have run another mile. Or run that last mile faster.
    Pasquini approached, looking like he was bursting to talk, but he just shook his head with that crooked mouth of his and went to talk to Edward and Michael, who were on their butts, and who I had beaten for the first time.
    *   *   *
    When we were doing our post-run group stretch, during a lull in the conversation, I spoke. I had never said anything at cross-country practice before, not to the group.
    â€œAnyone going to the Darry party tonight?” I asked. I asked because I wanted to go. Because I knew Carolina would be there. And maybe I liked pain. Or maybe I liked what pain could give me.

 
    17
    Carolina doesn’t and does take a shot
    So, anyway, by the time I entered the kitchen, there wasn’t much room—Peggy’s house is not very big—so I just leaned next to the door frame. Katherine got a bunch of red plastic cups out from under the sink, had one of the boys open the vodka, then started pouring just a bit for everyone. These were shots, I guess. One by one, everyone got a red plastic cup and then the second boy passed one to me and I said, “I’m okay,” and didn’t take the cup.
    The second boy called out, “Kat, this freshman is not partaking in the pre-party shot.”
    Everyone stepped aside so Katherine could look at me with her big eyes, and she looked so angry, like I just punched her in the face, and then I noticed Peggy had a red plastic cup in her hand even though we both promised we wouldn’t drink until college, and then Katherine said, “You do the shot or you get the