The Death of Us Read Free Page B

outside my open window.
    “Wake up, sleepyhead. Wake up, wake up.”
    I sit up and lean out the window. Ivy’s standing on the grassy median in the middle of our street. She’s wearing tight black shorts and an equally tight white workout top. No one else I know couldmake that look good. She’s jogging on the spot, waving up at me.
    “Come on, Callie.”
    “What are you doing awake so early?”
    She yells, “Our first project is to get the weight off.”
    I may not have Ivy’s fashion-model body, but still. “Um, no thanks.”
    “Not you! Me! Paranoid much? But I need a jogging partner.” She keeps jogging lightly, moving from foot to foot as if the ground is too hot.
    “You’re already skinny.”
    She spins and taps her slender butt. “Gotta keep it up. My thighs are
huge
!” She jogs in a little circle, then another, looking up at me after each one and smiling.
    “You don’t need to lose weight, Ivy! Anyway, I’m not even out of bed.”
    “I won’t take no for an answer. Come on.” She starts doing jumping jacks.
    “Oh my God! The whole world will see.”
    “Get up! Like now, or I’ll have to serenade you.”
    I laugh. The breeze is fragrant with our neighbour’s roses, and some sort of happy-vibe hitsme. “Okay. Why not? Give me ten minutes. Only, don’t sing!”
    She sings, “
When the saints go marching in
…” One thing Ivy has never been able to do is carry a tune.
    I duck away from the window and get out of bed. I don’t think I have any clothes that’ll remotely work for jogging, but Mom has one outfit for Zumba. I pad into her room to sneak it out of the drawer. She’s not in bed. I expect she’s tucked up with Cosmo in his room, which is painted with glorious, colourful fish. I hope she slept better than me, but I doubt it. Cosmo doesn’t exactly sleep. I slip out of my PJs, squeeze into Mom’s top and tug on the sweatpants.
    I look at my parents’ unmade bed. I don’t have to wonder where Dad is. He works random hours to fit around Cosmo and Mom. I never know when he’ll be home from the university. Looks like his day started even earlier than mine. I check my phone. I’ll easily be back in time to go see Granny.
    I slip on socks and my old sneakers. I look ridiculous.
    Ivy sings loudly,
“All things bright and beautiful, / All creatures great and small, / All things wise andwonderful, / GO JOGGING IN THE MORNING!’’
    I have to go before she wakes Cosmo.

    The first part of the jog is absolute torture. Within twenty paces I feel like my lungs might catch fire. I can’t get my breath. I try to keep up with Ivy, who’s bounding ahead like a graceful deer, the soft light making her look like the lead in a Hollywood movie, and making me feel like the overworked camera-dude who carries the heavy equipment. I slow down, but Ivy doesn’t seem to notice, so I force my aching legs to keep going. I check my phone, which has been bouncing around awkwardly in my pant pocket. We’ve been running for only four minutes and I’m going to die. Even when I go slower, the burning in my lungs gets worse and I feel a stabbing stitch.
    “Ivy, stop,” I gasp.
    She skips back and grabs my arm so I can’t collapse in a heap. She urges, “You’ve got to push past it. Keep running. At least keep walking. Trust me. Come on, we haven’t even started.”
    She times us as we walk for two minutes, and then she encourages me to start jogging again. We go a little slower. This time, my lungs are okay, and although I’m really sweating I feel a bit more like I can handle it.
    We alternate between walking and running, turning along streets I have never paid attention to, passing pretty clapboard houses I hardly remember seeing before. I feel like Odysseus travelling to exotic lands, and I wonder where the Lotus-Eaters are, or where the Cyclops lives. I’m a nerd.
    Ivy interrupts my thoughts. “You’re doing really well.”
    “My legs feel like jelly. How long do we run for?”
    “Another