Also Known as Rowan Pohi Read Free

greasy fluids had soaked into his skin. He used a special soap that washed off the filth, but only the top layer. The other stuff was still there just below the surface. His hands would never be deep-down clean.
    Turf finally caught the fly she had been chasing. She curled up a few feet from the table, allowing us to hear the sound of the trapped fly buzzing around in her mouth. You'd think Turf would swallow it, but she kept that fly in there, alive, flying around. Cody giggled.
    "That is one wacked-out cat," my father declared.
    After supper we cleaned the kitchen. He turned on the Sox game. I put on my gym shoes and went out for a run.
    Running right after supper seems like a bad idea, but it didn't bother me. You've got an iron stomach, Mom used to say. My belly might be stuffed with spaghetti and garlic bread, but I didn't want to miss running, not for anything. It was the one time of day that really felt like mine.
    We didn't live in the worst part of the city, but our neighborhood had definitely seen better days. Running down Robertson I passed two liquor stores, a pawnshop, and a bank, followed by Luquer's, a secondhand clothes store. The next block was a row of apartment buildings and then a huge, faded brick building.
    Welcome to my high school.
    The school was named Riverview High, except a few years ago they erected two wide office buildings on the west side, eliminating any view of the river. I guess nobody thought to change the name. Through the chainlink fence you could see the parking lot all torn up by construction. The school board passed an improvement plan to add parking spaces and a running track, but it got halted last year due to the newest round of budget cuts. In two weeks I would begin my sophomore year.
    I passed the school, crossed onto Cherry, and headed south toward People's Park, which ran along the reservoir. I did four long blocks, then crossed diagonally through Wilson Square before heading west on Birch. It was a clear evening, and I found myself chasing a lazy red sun.
    Some people do complicated things when they run: monitor their stride, breathe in rhythm, and keep their hands low. For me, running has always felt as natural as walking or breathing: I just ran. I never thought a lick about it. And I was fast too, faster than any kid in my grade.
    The reservoir appeared on the left. Sunlight glistened on the water while I ran along the boardwalk. This was my favorite part of the day. I pretended the lake was mine. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed ripples in the water, probably a fish rising to the surface to feed. Maybe later I'd take my imaginary girlfriend out in my imaginary boat and do some fishing. Fish like to feed at twilight. I got a whiff of chicken cooking on a grill, and the smell made my mouth water, even though I'd already eaten.
    I ran along the reservoir: stride, stride, stride, stride. A line of huge ancient elms blocked any view of the sunset, but glancing in the other direction I could see the distant buildings of Whitestone up on the hill, looking down over the city.
    I tried not to think about Whitestone, but I couldn't help it. Beyond the hype and the snob factor, it really was a terrific school with A-list teachers.
First class all the way,
Mom used to say, and I had no reason to doubt her. More than once I wondered if I might fit in better at a school like that. At Riverview, kids called you geekster or nerdling if you dared show any interest in history or literature, so I had to hide that side of myself. Kids at Whitestone really wanted to learn, from what I'd heard, so there was nothing wrong with paying attention or speaking up in class.
    Two girls waved as I passed a girls' softball game, and I waved back. I felt airy and loose and free. I wasn't winded either, not even a little bit. I felt like I could keep on going forever. It was a perfect August evening. At that moment, running in the opposite direction from home, feeling it get farther and farther away,