Avalon High Read Free

their own in their backyard.
    I got out of the car and did a few stretches while I surreptitiously watched my dad prepare for his run. He’d put away his wire rims—he’s blind as a bat without them. In fact, in medieval times, he’d probably have been dead by the age of three or four from falling down a well or whatever; I’d inherited my mom’s twenty-twenty vision, so most likely I’d have lived a bit longer—and put on these thick plastic-rimmed glasses that have an elastic band he can snap behind his head to keep them from sliding off while he runs. Mom calls this his Dork Strap.
    “This is a nice running path,” my dad was saying, as he adjusted his Dork Strap. Unlike me, who’d spent hours in the pool, Dad wasn’t a bit tan. His legs were the color of notebook paper. Only with hair. “It’s exactly one mile per lap. It goes through some woods—a kind of arboretum—over there. See? So it’s not all in the hot sun. There’s some shade.”
    I slid my headphones on. I can’t run without music, except during meets, when they won’t let you. I find that rap is ideal for running. The angrier the rapper, thebetter. Eminem is ideal to listen to while running, because he’s so mad at everyone. Except his daughter.
    “Two laps?” I asked my dad.
    “Sure,” he said.
    And so I turned on my iPod mini—I keep it on an arm strap when I run, which is different than a Dork Strap—and started running.
    It was hard at first. It’s more humid in Maryland than it is back home, I guess on account of the sea. The air is actually heavy. It’s like running through soup.
    But after a while, my joints seemed to loosen up. I started remembering how much I’d liked to run back home. It’s hard and everything. Don’t get me wrong. But I like how strong and powerful my legs feel underneath me while I run…like I can do anything. Anything at all.
    There was hardly anyone else on the path—just old ladies, mostly, power-walking with their dogs—but I tore past them, leaving them in my wake. I didn’t smile as I ran by. Back home, everybody smiles at strangers. Here, the only time people smile is if you smile first. It didn’t take my parents very long to catch on to this. Now they make me smile—and even wave—at everyone we pass. Especially our new neighbors, when they’re out in their yards mowing their lawns or whatever. Image, my mom calls it. It’s important to keep up a good image, she says. So people won’t think we’re snobs.
    Except that I’m not really sure I care what people around here think about me.
    The running path started out like a normal track,with closely cut grass on either side of it, snaking between the baseball diamond and the lacrosse field, then curving past the dog runs and around the parking lot.
    Then it left the grass behind, and disappeared into a surprisingly thick forest. Yeah, a real forest, right in the middle of nowhere, with a discreet little brown sign that said WELCOME TO THE ANNE ARUNDEL COUNTY ARBORETUM by the side of the path.
    I was a little shocked, as I ran past the sign, at how wild the undergrowth on either side of the trail had been allowed to get. Plunging into the deep shade of the arboretum, I noticed that the leaves overhead were so thick, hardly any sunlight at all was allowed to get through.
    Still, the vegetation on either side of me was lush and prickly looking. I was sure there was also a ton of poison ivy in there, too…something that, if you contracted it badly enough back in medieval times, could probably have killed you, since there wasn’t any cortisone.
    You could barely see two feet beyond the path, the brambles and trees were so close together. But it was at least ten degrees cooler in the arboretum than it was in the rest of the park. The shade cooled the sweat that was dripping down my face and chest. It was hard to believe, running through that thick wood, that I was still near civilization. But when I pulled out my headphones to listen, I