Run to Me (6 page)

Getting the rocks in is the easy part. I end up
wearing half the dirt when I try to shovel it into the skip. It rains down my
front and lands in a pile at my feet. I shake the loose dirt from my clothes
but I don’t pick up the stuff on the ground.

After a few more loads I start sweating it up. I
really want to get out of here. I decide to fill the barrow to the brim, get
the loads out quicker. I’m wheeling a particularly heavy load past The Chief
when my forearms give way. The barrow starts to lean to the right.

‘Watch it, Paul. You’re about to lose that lot.’
It’s him, eyeing me off with his hands on his hips. He makes no move to help
me. ‘Come on, put some elbow grease into it. Lift the bloody thing.’

I silently curse him. I should have known
today’s job was some kind of test. He’s always doing shit like this. Giving me
‘real man’s’ work, seeing how I react. Always trying to ‘toughen me up’. Like I
fucking need that.

My muscles strain trying to upright the barrow,
but it’s no use. The thing tips onto its side, dumping the entire load. Rocks
and gravel spew out over the ground. One of the smaller rocks seems to bounce
off the others, ricocheting and landing a metre from me, directly on The Chief’s
new patio flooring.

‘Nice going. Can’t manage a heavy load on your
own huh?’ The Chief picks up the rock and throws it at me. I am not quite ready
for it so my hands don’t get a good grip. The rock hits me in the stomach. I
buckle over, dropping the rock on the ground and holding my guts.

‘That fucking hurt,’ I say, looking up at him
through my eyebrows.    

I can see him struggling, trying to decide
whether to rub it in, or to comfort me.

‘You’ll be right. It’s only a little rock for
Christ’s sake.’

Yep. No father-of-the-year award for him.

Four

On Tuesday Todd is waiting for me after the
final bell; he is waving at me from the hallway as I pack up my books. Some of
my students are dawdling at the back of the room. I watch as the girls huddle
and gossip in whispers, pretending to be far too engrossed in their
conversation to even think about packing up faster. I’ve seen this stunt pulled
before. While on most days kids are tripping over themselves to get out after
last period, sport days are another story altogether. An extra ten minutes
spent in the classroom can mean the world when sport is being avoided at all
costs.

I am just about to hurry them along when Todd
enters.

‘Let’s go everybody,’ he says, clapping his
hands. ‘I know you all have somewhere else to be right now.’

There is a collective groan as everyone starts
to file, slowly, out of the room.

Todd waits until all the students have gone,
then he turns to me.

‘Didn’t mean to do your job for you, but I tend
to take it personally when the students don’t want to go to sport.’

‘Hmm. Taking things personally is a disease, you
know? Better get it checked out,’ I laugh.

‘I know. I’ve been fighting it for a while but I
just can’t help it. I
luuve
sport,’ he responds with a smile.

We wander out into the hall and head towards the
gym.

‘Ready for this?’ Todd asks.

‘Sure. I mean, how bad can it be right?’

‘Trying to interest a bunch of kids who’d rather
be anywhere but here? Nah, that’ll be a piece of cake.’

‘You forget. I teach English. I deal with that
on a daily basis.’

‘Don’t we all.’

Outside the gym is bustling when we arrive.
Students from every year are milling around, their coloured shirts making a
rainbow. Peter Stewart has informed me that the four sporting Houses at the
school each have a designated colour – red, blue, yellow or green. I’m not sure
how the selection process works, but the hundred or so kids in each year are
evenly distributed between the Houses. When it comes to individual sports the
coloured shirt represents nothing more than a uniform. But during any carnival
events, athletics or swimming, the Houses will compete. And according to Peter
Stewart, it is all taken rather seriously.

‘It’s a rainbow lollipop out here,’ I say to
Todd.

‘Yep,’ he laughs. ‘Now listen, the teachers’
change rooms are just there. Meet me back here in ten, OK?’

‘Sure.’

I take the stairs to the female change room and
push open the door. Inside is a row of cubicles with blue doors. The two at the
far end are showers, the rest toilets. A suffocating perfume lingers in the
air. It might be the one Beth uses. Or that other woman, Jody is it? I try to
force the smell away by waving my hand in front of my face but it does nothing.

Running along the opposite wall is a wooden
bench. I drop my bag onto it and pull out my running gear. Black tracksuit
pants and a plain grey T-shirt; my most conservative, and non-figure hugging,
outfit. I quickly change into them and jam my feet into my trainers; I never
bother to untie the laces anymore. I pull my hair into a ponytail, grab my bag
and leave, resisting the urge to check out my butt in the mirror.

In the meantime Todd has managed to move most of
the students on to their respective sports, but eight kids are waiting with him
when I emerge from the change rooms. I recognise most of them from my Year
Twelve class.

‘Hi Mrs Fox. Do we have you for running now?’

‘Hello, Melanie. Yes I’ve taken over the team
from Mr Witton.’

The three girls look at each other and nod
approvingly.

‘Sweet as,’ says Melanie.

I notice one of the boys is smirking at me.

‘Is there a problem, Matt?’ I ask.

‘No, Mrs Fox,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Everything’s
cool.’

I stare at him and wonder what it is he finds so
funny.

‘There’s a couple missing but we don’t have time
to wait for them,’ says Todd. ‘Let’s get down to the oval. If they’re coming,
they’ll find us themselves.’

We all follow him down the long cement staircase
that is built into the side of the oval. The bank is elevated to facilitate
spectators on carnival days. From the stairs you can clearly see the wide
expanse of the oval with its faded cricket pitch in the middle, rugby goalposts
at either end, and seven white-chalked running lanes curving round its
perimeter. I can smell freshly-cut grass and that fertilizer that stinks of
chicken shit. The rugby boys are already mid-way through their warm-up jog and
a couple of them wave at us. Todd turns to me and points beyond them to a
second, smaller oval.

‘You’ll be training on the bottom oval,’ he
says. ‘Mind if I leave you here? I think you’ve got this covered.’

My team have already wandered off towards the
other oval, leaving me behind. I nod.

‘Sure thing. Thanks Todd.’

‘Catch you later,’ he says, running off to join
his rugby boys.

I don’t bother trying to catch up with the team.
Instead, I take my time, running over in my mind the plan for today’s session. I
don’t want to be too hard on them in this first meeting. But I am going to
mention the race in May, see who’s interested. Off to my right Todd’s whistle
blows and the rugby boys crowd into a scrum. They are all yelling at each other
– ‘Get in there, Willis’, ‘Watch it, watch it’, ‘Move. MOVE.’

From behind I hear some loud puffing and next
thing Paul Beckett pulls up beside me. He is wearing black shorts and a red House
T-shirt. His trainers are smeared with dirt and grass stains.

‘Hey, Miss. What are you doing here? Are you
taking us for running? Where’s Mr Witton?’

He is looking me up and down with those
wandering eyes. So his crush hasn’t abated just yet. I force myself not to
groan. Of course he’s in the running squad. That’s what Matt was smirking
about. I take a deep breath and plaster on a smile. I turn to face him.

‘Hello Paul,’ I say. ‘You’re late.’

He is still puffing but he manages a wide smile;
his eyes never move from my face. They are questioning me, as though he can’t
quite believe I am walking right next to him.

‘Umm. Yeah. Got held up. So are you our new
coach or something?’

I turn away, looking directly out in front. It’s
harder for me to assume my ‘boring teacher’ persona outside of class, so I’ll
have to take a different approach. I shake my head tersely and click my tongue
to signal disapproval.

 ‘Not ‘or something’’ I say. ‘I
am
your
new running coach. And I don’t care for tardiness, Paul. You’ll be on time next
session, or it’ll be detention.’

I can tell he is fumbling for words. I step up
my pace and walk away from him. I’ve got to see to it that this crush doesn’t
last the day.

***

Matt is elbowing me when I sidle up to join the
rest of the team.

‘If I’d known she’s taking us for running I
wouldn’t have wasted so much time having a smoke,’ I whisper to him.

‘I reckon.’

‘What’s happened to Witton?’

‘Stop that whispering, you two,’ she says to us,
crossing her arms. ‘Mr Witton has kindly given this squad over to me, and as I
have many years running experience, you can assume I am here to whip you all
into shape, so to speak.’

‘What running have you done, Miss? Like
marathons or what?’ asks Melanie.

When she turns to answer, I dig my elbow into
Matt’s ribs and lean into his ear.

‘She can
whip
me anytime, anywhere,’ I
say in my best Reggie impersonation.

Matt snorts. She turns back to us.

‘That’s it, you two. Show me what you’ve got,’
she says, pointing off towards the running lanes. ‘Start running. I’ll let you
know when you can stop.’

I shrug. ‘No worries, Miss.’

I take off, with Matt right beside me. We jog
over to the lanes and turn left to begin circling the oval. I’ve always been
faster than Matt, but I slow my pace so we can run together.

‘So what do you really think about this?’ he
asks.

‘I’m like a pig in shit.’

‘Really?’ Matt asks, looking back towards the
group. ‘You reckon she’s that great?’

I follow his gaze. She’s got them all doing
stretches. From where I’m running I get a clear view of her arse as she bends
to stretch the backs of her legs. I watch as she rubs her hands over her thighs
to show where the muscle should pull tight.

‘Yeah. Look at that. Miss Hot Bod,’ I say,
pulling out another Reggie line. ‘Twice a week we’re going to get a show like
this.’

We continue to jog round and round, circling the
group. I keep my eyes on her, watching as she stretches her arms behind her,
making her tits stick out. Whenever she bends some of her hair falls loose from
her ponytail, and I watch as she repeatedly shoves it back behind her ears.
Seconds later it falls again.

When she calls us back, I bend over to catch my
breath. Becky is lounging on the grass, and she has a water bottle by her feet.

‘Give me some of that,’ I say to her, holding
out my hand.

She grabs the bottle and holds it against her
chest. ‘Get your own,’ she says.

‘Ahh, come on,’ I plead. ‘I’m fucking dying
here.’

‘That’s it!’

I lift my head to see Mrs Fox standing over me
with her hands on her hips.

‘That’s enough, Paul. I will not have you
swearing here, is that understood?’

‘Yeah, sorry Miss. I’m just thirsty. And I’ve
got nothing to drink.’

‘You mean you
haven’t
got
anything
to drink.’

I can feel my cheeks blush, so I dip my head and
cup my face, pretending to wipe the sweat away. I can hear her rummaging
through her bag and then a bottle is thrust at me.

‘Here. Have some of mine,’ she says.

‘Thanks, Miss,’ I say, taking the bottle.

Her eyes seem to linger on my face, and I’m sure
she can see the blushing. The corner of her mouth begins to twitch into a grin,
but then hesitates.

‘Make sure you bring your own next time,’ she
says, before turning her attention back to everyone else.

‘Right. Now, before we go for a short run, there
is something I want to discuss with you all.’ She crouches down to sit on the
grass. ‘Let’s sit,’ she says.

I collapse beside Becky who gives me a dirty
look. I mouth ‘bitch’ at her and roll my eyes. She doesn’t seem to notice my
face, so my blush must have past. I can’t believe I got so embarrassed. What
was that about? I look Mrs Fox over as she waits for everyone to cop a squat. I
don’t know why she’s riding me today.

‘Mr Bateman has told me that there are some of
you with a lot of potential. I’ll be checking this out myself as we go along,
but I wanted to give you all something to think about from day one.’

She stops talking to look at everybody
individually. I give her a smile but I don’t get one back.

She clears her throat and continues. ‘There is a
race in May. Ten kilometres. And I’d like some of you to consider taking part.’

‘A race? Like for real?’ asks Becky.

‘Yes. A race I’m sure most of you could handle.
Given some regular training, of course.’

Beside me I see Matt turn to me and raise his
eyebrows. I nod.

‘We’re in,’ I say.

She looks first at Matt, then at me, where her
eyes linger again. Then she narrows them.

‘You and Matt?’ she asks.

It is like she is challenging me to back down. I
don’t know what I did to her. She was a hell of a lot nicer yesterday.    

‘Yep. Me and Matt,’ I say, never taking my eyes
off her.

She nods slowly, but still doesn’t crack a
smile.

‘Anyone else?’ she asks, looking away.

I can see the outline of her bra through her
shirt and her nipples are up. I didn’t want to say anything with Reggie around,
but I reckon she is pretty sexy and he is right - her boobs are fantastic. Matt
is looking at me with a smirk on his face. He’s seen me like this before, but
not since Amanda. I smile at him and shrug, then I mouth the word ‘hot’ to him.
He just nods.

‘Well, if anybody else changes their mind and
wants to take part in the race let me know. But for now, let’s get running.’

She claps her hands and signals for everyone to
get moving. When Matt and I walk past her, I have to pinch my thigh not to look
at her chest. Instead, I give her a wonky smile and I know my eyebrows are up.
I have to do that to stop my eyes from wandering. She looks at me and then
starts shaking her head very slowly, back and forth.

***