Page 103 of As You Walk On

“You’re a dick, Jay,” I hiss. “The shit you pulled is much bigger than a—”

“Wright! Jacobs!”

The morning skies are that nice blend of blue and rose. A ripe spring day is imminent. But the thunder in the air is Coach Devers’s no-bullshit voice as she stomps onto the track.

At first glance, Coach Devers comes off as one of those former athletes turned motivational speakers. In the halls, she grins widely. Tosses out random uplifting quotes to students. Always wearing some bright, neon workout clothes. The only time she raises her voice is when students are late to class, because she values education as much as sports.

But here? Coach Devers is an unpredictable hurricane between the white lane lines.

Right now, she looks as if Darren and I are trying her patience. To be fair, we kind of are.

“What the actual hell are you two wearing?”

“Practice gear?” Darren tries, smiling impishly.

His charm works on almost every teacher, librarian, and adult he comes into contact with. But not Coach. She’s immune.

“Mountainviewpractice gear,” Jay notes like a true snitch. “Our rivals.”

Coach turns her stone-faced look on him. She obviously doesn’t need his help.

“Why are you onmytrack wearing that?” Coach asks Darren and me.

“Uh.”

“You know what? I don’t care.”

She promptly lays into us about breaking team rules. The sacred competition between Brook-Oak and Mountainview. Respecting our school, our teammates. Threatening to keep us out of finals for not taking any of this seriously. It’s a raging tempest of shouting and pacing and spittle.

I haven’t been on the receiving end of one of these since missing a practice my first year with the team.

When she’s done, Coach is breathing heavily. It’s the quiet after the storm. My knees almost give out. Darren looks ready to throw up. Jay’s satisfied grin stands out among all the faces surrounding us.

“But I’m not benching you,” Coach finally says.

The pressure against my lungs finally releases.

“Wait, what?” Jay screeches like a fire alarm.

Coach’s head snaps in his direction, forcing him to startle backward. “I’m not benching them,” she repeats to everyone.

No one speaks. But eyes are moving. Silent conversations happen within the circle.

“Whatever this is...” She waves a hand at Darren and me. “Don’t do it again. We need all the help we can get to winconference finals. That means having a strong hurdler and the best relay team we can put out there.”

“Yup,” Kavon agrees. He’s another senior, well respected for his work ethic and kindness off the track. Like clockwork, others begin to concede.

“Coach, no,” Jay objects. His stance wobbles a little when Coach glares. “You laid down the rules from day one. We need to respect them. There’s consequences if we break them.”

Our eyes lock over Coach’s shoulder.

“As an alternate for the relay team,” Jay starts, beaming, “I can replace Wright. We can still win.”

“Bullshit,” Abel coughs into his fist, then hastily ducks behind Kavon.

Another rule: no swearing at practices.

“I can perform just as well as Theo,” Jay notes. “Probably better.”

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