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I’m eager to run out my worries. Jamal has been tailing me all day—because he “really missed me”—and Drake non-so-subtly stares at my chest like it’s an anomaly. I finally slug him in his bony arm when Coach Dicks isn’t looking. His eyebrows turn in like he has no idea why, but I’m not gonna explain it to him.
    Tiff texts me once the bell rings, asking if I’ll be home later—she wants to talk to me about Fartbucket. I groan and text her back a “KMN,” and she sends a selfie with her mommy pointer finger at the screen. I sigh and agree, hoping she has another present for me.
    Drake slaps me on the back after I tuck my cell away. “See you out there, tortoise.”
    “You know the tortoise won the race,” I tell him with a shove. See, this is the touching I’m okay with.
    “But not the sprint.” He grins, bouncing on his legs backward toward the boy's locker room. I knock my arms together from fists to elbows, doing the Friends flip off before heading to my own locker to change. Cocky gold medalist.
    Luckily I’m the only one on the girls cross country team who has last period gym, so I can change super quickly before anyone gets here. I force the Sharpies into two sports bras, hoping that it will keep them more trapped than with just one.
    I’m the first on the field, and I take a nice big breath of air, relishing in the slight wind. It’s going to be a hot practice today. Probably doubly hot since I’m two-piece-ing the bra situation and I’m wearing a shirt that isn’t exactly breathable. I bend at the waist and touch my toes, trying to get my limbs ready for whatever the new coach has in store for us today.
    Slowly the field fills up, and not just with the runners but the football players too. Rodney flips my ponytail as he passes me. I pretend to kick him in his padded butt.
    “Ugh,” Hadley Harper says as she sidles up next to me on the track. Her outfit is the polar opposite of mine, suctioning to every curve and lack of curve she owns. She sticks her arm out, holding it with the other to stretch. “I am so not ready for this.”
    “Which part?” I ask.
    “All of it. The heat, the exercise, new coach… blargh.”
    I gaze up at the blazing sun that’s already making me sweat. “I echo your sentiment.”
    She snorts, brushing her blonde bangs from her face. “Like you have anything to worry about, Miss Silver Medal.”
    “The heat affects us all.”
    She sticks her tongue out at me, then stretches her other arm out. It nearly whacks me in the nose. “At least there is something nice to look at during our practices.”
    I follow her gaze out to the football field, particularly Rodney. Hadley eyed him last year, and it looks like nothing has changed in that regard. I’m so thankful someone is consistent.
    The rest of the team starts jogging along the track for warm-up. Drake is whooping all our butts already because his darn legs are so long. I’d try to catch up to him, but I don’t want to wear myself out too early. Right when I get to the middle of my second lap, an overweight woman with massive Sharpies steps onto the field. She watches with a sweet smile as the joggers closest to her pass, and then she puts a whistle to her lips.
    “Crest Hills High Cross Country! Finish your lap and line up on the number three lane!”
    Drake, Jamal, and few of the other guys on the boy’s team decide to show off and sprint the last lap. I hate them for not being out of breath when I stop on the white painted number three.
    “Those who can’t do, teach, amiright?” Drake whispers in my ear, eyeing the coach’s belly. The comment stings me more than it probably should, and I give him a good elbow to his hip bone.
    “Be nice.”
    Our new coach doesn’t stop smiling, already a 180 from Coach Juniper. I can’t imagine this woman ever pushing us until we puke. She swipes one finger across her forehead, moving a stray piece of her highlighted hair out of her eyes.
    “So… I have some