Trail of Secrets by Brenda Chapman Page B

I’m going to have to study like crazy, since I didn’t do much on the weekend. I’ll be glad when we get to my place after school on Friday. That’ll mean I survived the week.”
    â€œHere’s to Fridays,” I said, raising my milk glass.
    â€œTo Fridays,” she laughed, picking up her water bottle and clunking it against my glass.

    On Thursday afternoon, I stayed late after school to try out for the track and field team. Mr. Jacks and Miss Po were running the tryouts. I liked Miss Po, who’d taught me Grade Eleven Phys Ed and was always cheery and positive. Mr. Jacks, on the other hand, was as far from cheery as a grizzly bear with a toothache but not a bad guy when push came to shove.
    They had their heads together comparing clipboards when I arrived.
    I started doing some warm-ups alongside the others, who were chatting and laughing as they stretched. I seemed to be one of the few without a friend to talk to. I checked the group and saw most were from Grades Nineand Ten. It didn’t look like track was popular with the high school seniors. Mr. Jacks wandered over and stood next to me. He was wearing a purple sweatband around his bald head, which clashed with his granny apple green tracksuit.
    â€œJennifer Bannon. I’ve never seen you out for the cross country team before. What makes you think you’re qualified to do it this year?”
    Was he expecting a resumé?
“I’ve been running on my own all through high school and thought I’d give this a try. If I don’t make it . . . well, that’s all right.”
    Mr. Jacks wrote something on his clipboard. “We’re not exactly swamped with senior girls, so the odds are good you’ll make the team. Whether or not you’ll embarrass yourself at the regional meet is anyone’s guess.” He flicked his pen on the board for emphasis as he walked away.
    All the things I disliked about Mr. Jacks were starting to come back to me. I bent down to tie my shoelace, keeping myself from taking a run at his retreating back. A lot of people might have thrown in the towel right then and there, but I wasn’t one of them. Instead, I could feel a slow burn starting in my belly and spreading up to the roots of my scalp. “I’ll show you, you old coot,” I mumbled under my breath as I stood from my crouched position. I could feel my cheeks flush with anger. “We’ll see who ends up embarrassed.”
    The cross country route started on the track and cut into a path through the woods that skirted along the river before detouring onto the road that led back to the school. I’d been running up and down hills for most of the summer and didn’t find this trail particularly challenging. The hardestpart was waiting for the groups of girls to spread out so that I could pass them. By the time I turned onto the road that led back to the high school field, I’d passed most of the girls and about half of the boys. I figured that would be enough to get me onto the team and settled into a comfortable jog. No point in killing myself when it didn’t matter, a philosophy I’d adopted for school in general.
    I crossed the finish line in tenth place behind a couple of Grade Eleven boys who quickly doubled over, gasping for air. I loped over to the jug of water and poured myself a cup before I circled the track one more time to cool down. I wasn’t winded at all.
    When I passed by Mr. Jacks and Miss Po on my way to go home, Miss Po smiled at me and said, “See you Monday for practice. We start at seven thirty. Congratulations on making the team.”
    â€œTry to be on time Monday, Bannon,” Mr. Jacks barked. “No junk food this weekend. The meet is in two weeks, and you need to start getting into shape.”
    I saluted and kept on jogging towards the street. Sometimes, it’s best not to say what you’re thinking. I slowed down when I reached the