The Running Dream by Wendelin Van Draanen Read Free Book Online Page B

gone.
    “Did Marcy pick up my leg?” I ask.
    Her mouth drops open and she blinks at me.
    I blink too, realizing what I’ve just said. “I meant my leg of the relay!”
    “I know what you meant,” she says, and her face is twitching all over the place.
    I snicker, then blurt out, “Did she pick up my leg!” and suddenly we’re both hysterical.
    I wipe my eyes with my napkin, and somewhere inside me I can feel a shift.
    I’m turning a corner.
    Leaving one long, hard section of track behind me.
    I smile at Fiona.
    It feels so, so good.

 
    A FTER LUNCH F IONA HELPS ME organize the homework that she’s continued to collect for me.
    Six classes, three weeks … it’s a daunting amount of work.
    But Fiona’s upbeat and optimistic, and since we have five out of six classes together, she’s very familiar with the assignments.
    “You know what?” she says after she’s helped me make a checklist for each of the courses. “There’s no reason you should have to do all those assignments. Some of them are total busywork.”
    “So what are you saying?”
    “I’m saying that tomorrow we’ll ask every teacher which assignments they’ll let you slide on.” She shakes her head. “Look how much you have to do. This is crazy!”
    “So I shouldn’t do any of them yet?”
    She thinks a minute, then says, “Start with the math, but only do the odds. You know, half of them? You can check your answers in the back of the book, and if you’re getting it, just move on.”
    I frown. “I don’t know if Ms. Rucker’s going to go for that.”
    “If she doesn’t, she’s ridiculous. Tell
her
to lose a leg and come back with all her homework done.”
    Mom comes into the family room. “Who are we discussing?”
    Fiona and I exchange glances. “Ms. Rucker,” Fiona grumbles. “She’s such a machine.”
    “That’s your math teacher, right?” Mom’s trying to be casual, but she’s beside herself that I’m organizing my schoolwork. She’s had several conversations with my counselor about me making up work and returning to school, but I’ve been a complete brick wall about it. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks brightly.
    I shake my head. “I think we’ve got things under control.”
    “How about some drinks, then? Apple juice, water, soda, Gatorade …?”
    “Apple juice,” Fiona and I say together, and when Mom leaves, Fiona puts aside my newly organized binder and sets me up with paper, pencil, and my math book. “You want to get going on that while I park right here and do my homework?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I say with a laugh, because it’s obvious she’s not going to take no for an answer.
    We work diligently and I make good progress, especially with Fiona tutoring me through the math problems. And even though I’m having no trouble concentrating, I’m surprised to catch Fiona spacing out a couple of times.
    The third time I notice it, I ask, “What are you thinking about?”
    She says, “Huh?” then flutters off some answer that makes very little sense.
    “What?”
    Just then Mom comes into the room and asks Fiona to stay for dinner, but Fiona says, “I … I can’t. I’ve got to get home. Tons to do!”
    I want to ask, Like what? but in the back of my mind I’m getting the picture.
    Fiona’s planning cupcakes and streamers and banners.
    Loudspeaker announcements and music.
    She’s planning my return to school.
    In a flash, Fiona has packed up and is whirlwinding out of the room. “I will be here a little after seven tomorrow morning!” she says, pointing at me. “Be ready!” Then she darts from the room.
    Mom chases after her and catches her out on the walkway, and now it’s my turn to watch through the window.
    Mom hugs her.
    Holds her cheeks.
    They talk and laugh and hug again, and then Fiona’s hurrying to her car and Mom’s waving goodbye.
    “She is one amazing friend,” my mother says as she comes back into the family room.
    I nod.
    “You’re really lucky