The Running Dream Read Free

to say is, Why me?
    WHY ME?

 
    T HE PHYSICAL THERAPIST COMES IN and makes me get up.
    Makes me crutch over to a chair.
    My mother watches as he stretches out my legs and both arms, then has me use weights and resistance bands. He shows me how to use a towel to stretch and strengthen my limbs.
    I don’t care.
    “You need to keep your body going,” he tells me. “Work it as much as you can.”
    I’m drained. Breathless. I get back into bed and wish hard for him to go away.
    He turns to my mother. “Encourage her to do these as often as she’ll tolerate.”
    When he finally does leave, there’s a timid knock on the door. And when my mom sees my best friend standing there with a big get-well teddy bear, she looks at me, then waves her in.
    “You
need
this,” she whispers, and on her way out she murmurs to Fiona, “A quick visit, okay? She’s still very fragile.”
    Fragile.
    Me.
    Fiona smiles, and I take in the beautiful sight of her. New highlights in her already blond hair. Matching light blue hoodie and shorts. Asics on her feet.
    And those legs.
    Long. Tan. Smooth.
    I never really realized how beautiful legs could be.
    She sees me staring and tugs at the white trim of her shorts. “Oh, I’m an idiot!”
    “You’re fine,” I manage.
    “No, I’m an idiot!”
    “But you brought a cool bear,” I tell her, and actually grin.
    She hands it over and sits in a chair. “His name’s Lucas. Unless you want to name him something else. He just seems like a Lucas to me, so that’s what I’ve been calling him. This is like the twentieth time I’ve been here. They always tell me I can’t see you. I wore pants every time, too! I’m just … I’m …” She bursts into tears, then lunges toward me and hugs me like I’ve never been hugged before. “I’m so sorry, Jess. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been so scared. I miss you so much!”
    I hug her back, and the lump in my throat hurts.
    Hurts hard.
    “I don’t know what to say either,” I finally choke out. “And I don’t know what to do. I’m dying in here.” Tears roll down my cheeks as we look at each other. “Am I pathetic or what?”
    “Pathetic is so not you!” she says with a sniff. “And you’re
not
dying. You’re alive!” She hugs me hard again. “ThankGod you’re alive! The whole thing’s horrible. Horrible, horrible, horrible!” She pulls away. “But I keep thinking if you had been Lucy and she had been you,
I
would have died!”
    “Lucy?” I ask, and for a moment the air seems like glass.
    And then I remember.
    Finally remember.
    Lucy in the seat in front of me.
    The light.
    The sounds.
    Screaming.
    Crunching.
    Shattering.
    My breath catches and I can feel it again.
    The pain.
    My foot, caught, twisted, crushed.
    And then darkness.
    Blissful, painless darkness.

 
    “A RE YOU OKAY? Jessica! Hey! Hey, look at me!”
    Fiona’s voice brings me back.
    “What happened to Lucy?” I choke out, but my gut’s way ahead of her answer.
    “You don’t know?” Fiona gasps. “Oh man.” She backs away. “I’m an idiot. I thought for sure you knew.”
    “She died?”
    Fiona nods. Blinks. “She didn’t suffer,” she blurts out. “She hit her head and was just … gone.”
    The whole room starts spinning.
    Lucy.
    So sweet. Her first year running. Joined the team to make friends. I brace myself. “Who else?”
    “That’s it. The rest of us are just cut and bruised and scarred for life.”
    She’s serious, and for a moment I forget about my leg. “My father said the guy who hit us was killed.”
    “And good riddance to that loser!” she says.
    “Was he … drunk?”
    “He might as well have been! He was hauling a load of wrecked cars to a junkyard with bad brakes! He missed a turn, went off the side of the road, barreled down the embankment, and smashed into us. Talk about irresponsible. He torpedoed a school bus!”
    Torpedoed.
    That word was exactly right.
    Fiona eyes the covers.