It’s funny how vivid the memories are even today.  The series of events from the day of the slap to running the Harrier and joining track, to the revelations at the funny green house are just as clear to me now as when they first transpired.  Pippa had asked me on that first visit to the avocado house to one day write her story.  These memories, flooding back to me now, are an important chronicle in that story.  They are just as important in Pippa’s story as they would become in my own narrative.

Ben Dawkins and I officially joined the track team.  I had kept my running appointment with Ben the day after visiting Pippa at her house.  We had run and talked but I couldn’t share anything about Pippa’s disclosures.  I wanted so much to share these things that weren’t mine and to get some advice on how to deal with my own feelings.  Ben didn’t press me that day on my meet-up with Pippa and I didn’t let on there was anything more than the day before when we had run.  But he must have noticed the change in my stride.  I put a lot of energy into my running that day and when he tired, I kept on running.  He didn’t question me about it.

On Monday, Ben and I showed up at the first official track practice.  Three other guys from the open tryouts were there.  Coach Russell must have been beaming with the notion that five of the eight Harrier finishers had decided to stick it out.  I don’t think he was surprised at all that I was there.  I had given it my all and more at the try-out and I’m sure he sensed that whatever was making me run was going to motivate me for a while.

There were already ten other athletes at the practice when I got there.  Some were the upper-year students who had been competing for our school during the past few years and some would move on at the end of the school year.  I recognized a few of them.  Most significantly there were the Park brothers.  John and Martin were twins.  Martin preferred to be called Marty but John was probably the better of the two.  To tell the truth, it was difficult to say who the best of the pair was.  John was known for his long distance running and Marty was faster on shorter distances.  Both held track records that I’m sure wouldn’t be bested for years.

Coach Russell was clear to our new group that we weren’t going to compete for our school in any upcoming events.  We were to train with the others but our competition opportunities would be reserved for the fall.  Coach truthfully didn’t want us competing against any of his students who were graduating.  I think he didn’t want any of us newbies possibly showing up the old squad.

Practices were three times a week and Ben and I were eventually paired up as pacers for the Park brothers.  John and I would run quarter and half-mile sprints and he was fast.  I never tried to see if I could outrun him because I was afraid that I would probably not show him up and more likely would show how inept I might be at my newfound outlet.

Pippa was true to her word.  She showed up at every practice and watched from a spot on the grass.  She would often shout “Run, Jeff, Run!”  It was the only time she refrained from calling me Pink.  I believed it was a sign of respect.  No one else on the team knew me as Pink but I suspected they had heard my nickname.  Pippa continued to call me Pink in school and when we were alone together.  

Her attitude had improved since she had unburdened herself to me.  Carlotta hadn’t made her presence known in a while.  I wasn’t convinced that Pippa’s demons were completely gone but for a while, she seemed to keep them at bay.  This was the girl I had fallen in love with that first day she had bounced into Thompson’s class.  She wasn’t trying to stand out anymore and I think she was happier for it.  It made me recall why I had fallen in love with her the first time I saw her.

Sometimes she would bring her guitar to school and we would sit together outside at the end of the day if it wasn’t a practice day.  I was getting good at recognizing the Elvis songs that made up most of her repertoire.  Sometimes she would bring her instrument to the practices and I could hear her instrumental accompaniment of me while I was running.  Occasionally I could hear her sing out to encourage me.  Her standby would often be from ‘Follow That Dream’ and when she got to the end she would be singing as loud as she could on the closing lyrics ‘Keep a-movin, move along’ and would keep repeating the phrase until I had finished running my current laps.  One day, I was so distracted by it, that I found myself slipping past John and would have kept on out-pacing him in my enthusiasm.  I realized what I was doing and let off a bit as if I was tiring.  John raced past me and I let him widen the gap to the finish.

“You have to pace yourself, Carter,” he gloated.  “Save something for the finish next time.”  I didn’t let on that with Pippa’s encouragement I think I could have beat him for once.

Pippa seemed genuinely happy for me and my new enthusiasm for running.  I would walk her part-way home after school sometimes or after practices and we’d talk and joke among ourselves.  She wouldn’t let me walk her the full way because her mother was very protective and wouldn’t understand her walking with a boy.  They were good times and I was being a good friend but secretly wanting more.  All of my longing came out in my running.  I’d run home after leaving her or stop sometimes at the track and run a few laps.  My parents had sprung for a decent pair of sneakers and bought me some proper track pants so I didn’t have to change in the bushes anymore.  I could throw the pants on over my shorts whenever the temperature changed and remove them just as easily when needed.   I was also taking more and more cold showers.  The showers and the running helped keep my own secret demons at bay.

Around the beginning of June, Coach Russell began to get excited for the last competition of the school year.  It was held in mid-June and each school would send a team of athletes to the school that was hosting.  My school had hosted when I was in grade nine but I didn’t take any interest in it then.  This year the hosting school was Collegiate.  In addition to the running events, there were long jump and high jump events.  The Coach for those events was Mr. Bertram for the boys and Miss Frost who performed double duty for the track and field events for the girls.

Coach Russell approached Ben and I one day after practice and his enthusiasm was rampant.

“Carter and Dawkins, what would you think of competing in the All-City track competition this year?” Coach asked.

“I thought you were saving us for the fall competitions?” Ben enquired.

“Normally that’s my position but they’re bringing back the long relay and by god, I’d love to put a team together for that event.”

“What’s the long relay?” I asked.  I wasn’t familiar with that race.  I didn’t think it had been run in my time at the school.
 
“The long relay is a full mile relay with the passing of batons after each runner has completed a quarter mile.  They haven’t had the relay in years.  I don’t think there’s a school that’s trained in it for a while.  We’d have a good shot at a decent showing if we started training now.”  Coach was pacing a little.  Ben and I sensed that this was something the Coach really wanted.
“Collegiate’s trained in it,” Ben offered up.  “I watched some of their training practices last year when I was there.”

“The sneaky buggers,” Coach observed.  “I bet they’re the ones who asked to bring back the long relay.  They still have the trophy from the last two times it was held.  The winning school gets to host the trophy until another team wins it.  By god, I’d love to put a team together for that event.”  Coach was repeating himself.

“But we haven’t trained for the long relay,” Ben pointed out.

“What’s to train?  You and Carter are pretty good at the quarter mile and we’ve got the Park brothers.  We just need to practice you four on the baton passing and we’ve got a team,” Coach enthused.

“I’m game,” I said.

“Me, too,” Ben chirped.

“Good,” Coach exclaimed and then slapped his hands together.  “John and Marty are our two strongest runners and I was thinking we’d slot you two in the middle.  Marty’s a good starter and John’s a good finisher.  If you two can run your quarters at a decent speed then John can close any gap on the last lap.”

“Why us, Coach?” I thought to ask.  “What about some of the other guys?  Shouldn’t they be offered a chance?”

“You and Dawkins have been pace partners for John and Marty.  I’m going to give everyone else a shot in their respective running events but the long relay’s going to need some fresh blood.  The others will be tired from their events.  John and Marty are competitive and will have what it takes for the long relay.  Besides, I’ve already asked them and they agreed that you two would make a good addition to the team for just that one event.”

Ben and I looked at each other.  We both were excited for the opportunity and secretly scared that we might not be able to pull it off.  We didn’t show it though.

Practice was increased to five days a week.  Tuesdays and Thursdays were devoted strictly to the four of us to train for the long relay.  The running part was not so hard but carrying a baton and having to pass it to the next runner was a bit of a challenge.

Ben was slotted in the second position and I would take the baton pass from him and run my lap before passing it onto John who ran the final leg.  Both Ben and John were hard to work with initially when passing the baton.  I had to start running a little before the passing of the baton and Ben couldn’t match me in the designated zone for the handoff.  We didn’t have chalk lines on our track but the Coach monitored the area where each lap started and finished and gave us a general idea of how far we could run before the baton had to be fully passed.  Ben and I had trouble syncing our timing and we’d end up tagging each other with the baton beyond the passing area.

With John, it was completely different.  He was always off like a shot when he saw me closing in and I couldn’t get to him in time to pass the baton.  Sometimes if I was close, the baton slipped out of both of our fingers on the pass and dropped to the ground.  The rules said whoever dropped the baton could pick it up and continue on but by then too much time would have to be made up.

Coach finally figured out the formula and switched Ben to the starting position, moved John to second, and then had Marty come in as closer after me.  John was more suited to pick up speed and close any gaps left by Ben having run the first lap. John eventually matched Ben’s pace and when he came up on me, John was flying and could catch me easily in the passing zone for the handoff.  Marty proved very capable as a closer and matched me well enough to receive the baton in the correct area.  Marty had been working on his quarter-mile running and he definitely could be competitive enough in the final lap to give us a good finish.

Our times kept getting better and better and we knew we’d be ready to run the long relay at the All City High School tournament.  Ben and I would not run any other events that day and would save ourselves for the long relay which was always the last event of the day.  Coach limited John and Marty to other events that would be held earlier in the day.  The roster of senior runners would run the other events.  All of us knew that the Coach didn’t care much how our athletes finished in those events as much as he wanted to bring the long relay trophy back to our school.

Pippa attended only the practices where we trained for the long relay.  Her mother was on an evening shift and expected Pippa home before she left for work.  Pippa was able to explain that she and Sandra were attending the long relay sessions along with other students to cheer on our school team because the event had not been held in a few years.  The remaining days she left the school on time as her mother expected.

“My mother is getting suspicious,” Pippa told me one day after long relay practice.  “She doesn’t know that I’m really here cheering you on.  She thinks I’m with a group cheering for all of the athletes.”

“What difference does it make?” I asked.  I was still just a friend, maybe her best friend, but there was nothing romantic between us to arouse her mother’s suspicions.

“She doesn’t want me hanging around with boys, plain and simple.  If she even knew I had a friend who was a boy she’d probably lock me in my room and not let me out.  She’s been super protective ever since what happened last year.”

I understood Pippa’s concern.  Whenever I’d walk her part-way home, we made sure it was nowhere within line of sight of the house.  I wasn’t allowed back into the avocado house since that one visit.  Pippa wouldn’t take any chances.

“Does she even know about me?” I asked.

“No, and I want to keep it that way.  She asks me about what’s happening at school and I talk about you as much as I do everyone else.  I don’t dare tell her you’re on the track team or she’ll suspect you’re the real reason I’m staying late Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

These were the frustrations that kept me running.  I was a big secret that she kept from her mother and there was really nothing to keep secret.  Pippa and I were just friends, I kept telling myself.  Pippa had shown no encouragement that she was interested in me in any other way.

“Okay, it’s your play,” I offered up, “as long as you’re at the All City to cheer me on.”  I had become accustomed to her cheers and musical encouragement.  I felt I needed her there when I ran the long relay.

“Oh, Pink,” she exclaimed, “I can’t go there.”  She looked away from me because she knew how disappointed I’d be not to have her in the cheering section.

“Why not?” I asked rather dejectedly.  “It won’t be the same if you’re not there.”

“But Pink, the All City is at Collegiate this year.  I can’t go back there for any reason.  Remember I said how it was for me going there after what happened?  That’s why I’m here at this school with you now.”

“But I thought you said, screw them?  If you go it will show them they don’t mean anything to you.  I need you there Pippa.”

“Don’t say that to me, Pink.  I can’t do it.  If my mother even found out I went back to Collegiate she’d be angry.  Don’t make me choose Pink.”

She was correct.  I had no right to make her choose.  I was just her friend.  I had no claims on her.  I was at risk of even losing that friendship if I pushed her.  I couldn’t say anything more.

“Besides, Pink,” she said, trying to lessen the blow she had just handed me, “you don’t need me to help you run.  Look what you’ve accomplished all on your own.  Coach Russell even broke his no-competing rule to let you run the long relay this year.  You told me you were in our friendship for the long haul.  Maybe this relay is part of your long haul.” I couldn’t argue with her analogy.

“Sure,” I replied, trying to match her faith in me, “and we’re going to bring home that trophy.”  I wasn’t so sure about that.  How could we win if Pippa wasn’t there encouraging me to run or at least being the person I wanted to run to at the finish?

Pippa insisted on walking home alone that afternoon.  She knew her mother would be home and she didn’t want her mother to see me.  I stayed after practice and continued to run some laps.  Later I would see John Park coming out of the school with Marty after hitting the showers.

“I told you once, Carter, you have to pace yourself,” he yelled at me.  “Save something for the All City!”  

John was always quick with his little insights.  Secretly, I was glad that Marty was going to be our closer for the long relay.  

The day of the tournament was sunny and unseasonably hot.  Collegiate was a bigger school and the turnout from Collegiate alone easily outmatched any student spectator delegation sent by the other four schools.

Their track was also a quarter-mile track but for the All City, chalk lines had been added all around.  I had never worried about straying outside of my lane when running at our track but the sight of those lines was very intimidating.  I would have to pay particular attention to my own lane and try not to foul anyone in the lanes opposite.

Ben and I had been provided with blue jerseys to don over our t-shirts.  I can’t for the life of me recall what numbers were on our jerseys.  That’s a detail that’s not really important in this recollection.

Pippa had stayed away from the two practices the previous week.  She knew how disappointed I was that she wasn’t coming to the All-City.  In her mind, it would be easier for me to get used to her not being there.  She told me I had to realize I was running for myself and not because she was watching.  I couldn’t tell her that she was caught up in all of the reasons I ran.  I ran out my frustrations and my concerns.  I imagined I was chasing her when I was running.  My pursuit of her on the track helped me keep my thoughts from my off-track pursuit of her.

I had hoped she would show up at the tournament but I couldn’t spot her anywhere in the throng of spectators.  There were more cheering sections of students for each school’s athletes than there were participants in the tournament but somehow I thought I would have known if she was there.  She would have made herself known, I was sure of that.

Ben and I had to wait around all day watching the other events.  The long relay would be the last event of the day.  We watched numerous track and field events and cheered on all of the other athletes from our school.

Competition was tough that year.  Ben had warned me that Collegiate had a stellar athletic program.  The majority of the running events were won by Collegiate athletes.  Most of our athletes had managed some second and third-place finishes but Collegiate was sweeping the day.  John had managed to come in first in the half-mile run and Marty had come in second in the quarter-mile.  Still, nothing seemed to dim Coach Russell’s enthusiasm.  He cheered every runner and congratulated them on their showing no matter what position they finished.

Finally, it was time for the long relay.  The crowds had not thinned out throughout the day and in fact, seemed to swell leading into this final event.  The cheering for Collegiate seemed to drown out the groups of students who were there to cheer on the other schools.  It was almost deafening as the five athletes, representing the different schools, took their starting positions.

I had slapped Ben on the back when he headed out onto the trick.  “You’ve got this,” I said without trying to add too much pressure on him.

“We’ve all got this,” he enthused.

I scanned the crowd one more time before the race began.  Pippa wasn’t there.  I recognized some faces from my school but she wasn’t among them.  I tensed up a little and wondered if I really did have this.  

When the starter gun finally went off, Ben and the other athletes were also off like that shot.  Collegiate wasn’t the only school that was going to give us competition.  I watched the other athletes and Ben was struggling to stay in the middle of the pack.  Collegiate was out in front and widening the gap.  Ben and another runner were virtually tied for third but it would take everything John and the rest of us had to try and close the gap and make a good showing at the finish.

Coming in at the close of the quarter mile, Ben was still tied for third when approaching for the handoff.  The Collegiate runner’s handoff was clean and was away in front of the rest of the group.  Ben’s handoff was good as well but the runner who had kept pace with him for third was not so lucky.  The handoff was clumsy and the runner who was to take the handoff fumbled it and had to retrieve it.

I watched John round the first corner of his lap as I made my way to where I would be waiting for him in the handoff zone.  I had to dry my hands a couple of times on my shorts just so I could have a dry hand for the baton.  John was really pouring it on.  The blunder with the other athletes put him in second and the gap for the first position was getting smaller between John and the lead.

My heart was pounding as I watched over my shoulder at John rounding the last corner.  I placed my arm out behind and prepared for John to hand me the baton.  When he approached me, I started running and felt the baton slip into my hand.  I was clear of the handoff zone cleanly and raced forward with the Collegiate athlete only steps ahead of me.  John had done a tremendous job of zoning in on the lead athlete.  I wasn’t sure I could catch him or keep within striking distance but I was bound and determined to give the best run of my, up to then, short athletic career.

As I started into the first turn I heard a commotion behind me and someone yell “Get off the track!”  I didn’t dare turn to look or I’d have lost my concentration.

Suddenly there was music.  The rapid strumming of a guitar was quickly followed by Pippa’s voice.  She was there!  I heard the opening lyrics of “Viva Las Vegas” and a cheer went up from the crowd.  I could hear her above all the other voices because she was standing in the middle of the green between the tracks.  She was there!  She was singing to me and as I rounded the second turn, I could see her out of the side of my vision without having to turn my head.

My brain and my legs reacted to the music.  It was the fastest song that I think Elvis had ever recorded.  I instinctively tried to match the rapid rhythm of the music.  I began to close on the Collegiate athlete.   Around the third turn I could hear her singing strongly:

I'm gonna keep on the run
I'm gonna have me some fun
If it costs me my very last dime
If I wind up broke, oh well
I'll always remember that I had a swingin' time

I'm gonna give it everything I've got
Lady luck please let the dice stay hot
Let me shoot a seven with ev'ry shot, ah
Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas
Viva Las Vegas, Viva, Viva Las Vegas

On, ‘I’m gonna give it everything I’ve got,’ I did just that.  My mind and body were reeling and when she sang the words ‘Viva Las Vegas’, you could hear the crowd shouting out those words in unison.

I rounded the final turn and nudged past the Collegiate athlete.  He had to be wondering what was going on with this strange girl in the center singing an Elvis song for all she was worth.

I saw Marty up ahead and on the ready.  My handoff to him was flawless and then I sprinted into the center myself to meet up with Pippa.  Her guitar was on a strap and she spun it around in back of her and reached out and hugged me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked while trying to gain my breath.

“Screw them.  That’s what you said,” she replied.

“No, that’s what you said,” I pointed out.

“Well then, screw them.  Screw my mother.  Screw them all!”  She grabbed my face and then kissed me long and hard while the crowd whooped and cheered.

It was amazing.  It was unreal.  I hadn’t crossed out of my lane in the race but after that kiss, I was sure I had crossed over into the boyfriend zone.

Everything else fell away in that one moment of the kiss.  A whole year of longing after Pippa and struggling and running came down to that one moment.  Nothing else mattered at that moment…not even the race.

Suddenly I remembered the race.  Where was Marty?  Marty was halfway around the track and battling it out with the lead runner.  I drew my attention away from Pippa and reminded her of where we were and what was happening.

The Collegiate athlete kept pulling ahead but Marty would catch up and be a couple strides ahead before the other athlete would catch him and pass again.  Rounding the last corner it looked like the Collegiate athlete would beat out Marty but coming down the home stretch Marty poured it on and crossed the finish at what looked to me like the exact same time as the other athlete.

Pandemonium struck.  The crowd erupted and throngs of students stormed the field.  Pippa and I watched from the center.  We couldn’t see Marty or the Collegiate athlete.  I wasn’t even sure if the remaining athletes had had a chance to complete the long relay.  Referees and Coaches were crying out for quiet.

I felt Pippa’s hand slip into mine as we made our way to the crowd.  It took several minutes of yelling and jostling before calm was restored.

I spotted Coach Russell arguing with a referee and the Coach of the Collegiate team.  From what I could hear, both were arguing that their respective athlete had crossed the finish line first.  The referee kept pointing at his stopwatch and eventually called over another referee.  The second referee displayed his watch and things began to quiet down as they compared their watches.

Both stop-watches displayed the exact same time.  There had been numerous referees timing all of the athletes in the long relay.  It wasn’t just about who crossed first but about the total time each team had made in the race.  Marty and the Collegiate athlete had crossed the finish dead even as far as anyone could tell.  The Collegiate athlete and his coach argued that he had crossed first but the same argument had been taken up by Marty and Coach Russell.  In the end, all of the times for our runners and the Collegiate runners were compared and they were identical from both referees.  We had tied with Collegiate as the winners of the long relay.

Of course, the times and the finishes weren’t the only contention.  The Collegiate Coach had brought up the distraction caused by Pippa running across the track and playing from the infield.  The times were compared again and no one could say that any team was adversely affected by Pippa’s presence.  The times for my lap showed I had excelled while she was singing but so did the times of the other runners who ran that lap.  Nothing came of it and eventually Coach Russell and the Collegiate coach agreed to share the trophy.  Placards for both teams would be added and the trophy would be housed six months at one school and six months at the other.  Coach Russell was able to convince the other coach to let us host it until the end of the year.  His argument lay that our school had never won the long relay before and it would be nice to let us have it because Collegiate had had the trophy on display for the last number of years.

As all of this was unfolding, I hadn’t noticed that Pippa’s hand was no longer in mine.  When all of the arguments were done and the agreement about the trophy had been made, I looked to find her but she was gone.

“Hey, where’s your girlfriend?” Ben asked me as he saw me scanning the crowds for any sign of Pippa.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I pointed out but at that moment I didn’t really know the truth of things.

“You can’t tell me that after the stunt she pulled and that long kiss,” he pointed out.

He was right.  Again, it came back to me how unreal it all had been.  Pippa serenading me while I ran was one thing but Ben was right that there was also that kiss.  There was also that long kiss.

“Ben,” I asked, “did you ever finish a race and were so sure how you finished only to start thinking you might still be running in a longer event?”

“What?” he asked with mounting confusion.

“Skip it.  You were right though,” I responded.

“About what?” he asked.

“About the race,” I said.  “You said we’ve all got this.  And we did!”

Ben and I clapped arms around each other and went off to hug John and Marty and Coach.

“See Carter,” John said to me when he saw me coming.  “Always save something for the finish.  Marty knew.  Marty knew.”
I wanted to point out that my closing the gap during my lap had helped us just as well to win the race.  I thought I had better keep quiet about it though because it might lead to a discussion about Pippa and there had already been enough accusations levelled against her.

I didn’t see Pippa for the rest of that day.  It was past the end of the school day by the time we got back and I certainly didn’t feel like running by her house.

The next day she was at my locker first thing as if nothing had happened.  She congratulated me again about the race and spoke about the assembly later that morning where the entire track and field team would be congratulated in front of everyone.  The trophy would be hoisted for the first time by Coach Russell and I was sure he had a well-prepared speech.

Pippa was droning on about something when I slammed my locker door.  “What the hell, Pippa?” I asked.  “I don’t care about the assembly.  What happened yesterday?  Where did you go?  I looked for you but you were gone.”  I carefully avoided mentioning the kiss.

“I had to get home, Pink.  It was bad enough that I defied my mother about going to Collegiate yesterday so I wasn’t going to risk not getting back before she had to leave for work.”  I noticed she avoided talking about the kiss as well.

“Oh, okay,” was all I could think to say.  How do you ask someone why they kissed you when it was clear they didn’t want to talk about it?

“And another thing, Pink,” she began again, “that kiss was for everyone watching.  It was a screw them all kiss.  I wanted to show everyone I had moved on.  This kiss is for you.”  She grabbed my face again and this time the kiss felt like it lasted as long as the lap I had run in the long relay.