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but nothing good is going to come from me calling her out on it. Sometimes you have to let people feel what they need to feel. Hide what they think they need to hide and process it however they do.
    The espresso burns my throat. It’s thick and strong, and suddenly I have more energy than I did two seconds ago. Yes, I’m aware that it’s a mental thing, and no, I don’t care. I throw the little cup into the sink and grab my sweatshirt from the back of the chair. My running shoes are by the door, lined up in a straight row with the other shoes . . . Tessa’s doing.
    I slip them on and head out.

chapter
Five
    T HE AIR IS CRISP and I can actually smell fall in the air. Fall has always been my favorite season. I love waiting for the seasons to change, watching the leaves go from green to brown, smelling the cedar in the air. Football season leads to hockey season, and hockey season leads to my life being interesting for a little while. I’ve always loved waiting for the sports seasons to start, raking the yard with my mom, and jumping into big messy piles of loose leaves, then stuffing them into plastic bags with pumpkin faces printed on them.
    We always had so many leaves to deal with because of the two massive birch trees in the front yard. Fall in Michigan never lasted long enough, though. By the third football game, the gloves and coats came out full force. And while I was sad to see fall go, I’ve always liked the bite of the cold air on my skin. Unlike most people, I thrive in winter. For me, the cold means sports, holidays, and a crap load of sweets piled on the kitchen counter. Dakota always hated the cold. The way her nose would turn red and her curly hair would dry out drove her insane. She always looked cute, wrapped up in layers of sweaters, and I swear to you, the girl wore mittens in September.
    The best park to run the track in Brooklyn happens to be a bit far from my apartment. McCarren Park joins the two hippest parts of Brooklyn: Greenpoint and Williamsburg. Full beards and lumberjack flannels come out in droves in this part of the city. The locals bring their black-framed glasses and establish tiny little restaurants with dim lighting and small plates of heaven. I don’t quite understand why men in their twenties want to dress like men in their seventies, but the food that surrounds the cool kids here is well worth having to stare into a crowd of men with handlebar mustaches. The walk to my favorite park is a little over twenty minutes, so I usually run there, then run for an hour, and cool down during the walk home.
    I pass a woman loading a tiny baby into a running stroller. My knee hurts, but if she can run with a baby in a stroller, I’ll be just fine. Two minutes into running, the ache in my knee shifts into a throbbing, sharp pain. Thirty seconds later, the pain is shooting from muscle to muscle. I feel every step from my fall in the shower. Forget this.
    I’m off today, and even if my leg’s acting up, I don’t want to sit in the house on my first Saturday off since I started working. Tessa has to work tonight. In addition to her telling me, I saw it written on her little planner board on the fridge. Deciding to call my mom, I pull my phone out and sit down on a bench. She’s due soon and I can feel her nerves from here. She’ll be the best mom my little sister could be blessed with, whether she believes it or not.
    My mom doesn’t answer. Well, my only friend is busy and my mom didn’t answer, meaning I don’t know what to do next. I’m officially a loser. My sneakers hit the pavement and I start counting the steps as I walk. The pain in my knee isn’t too bad as long as I’m walking instead of pushing my body to run.
    â€œOn your left!” a woman running with a stroller calls as she passes me. She’s pregnant and the stroller has two chubby babies inside. This lady has her hands full. This is a trend in