Chasing Hope (3 page)

I
guess we’d better start heading back. I pride myself on making an appearance in at least one class a day.” Brandy took one last drag from the cigarette, then threw it to the ground. She watched it roll its way beneath the shiny red convertible parked in the back row of the school’s lot.

“Better watch out. Miss Homecoming-Queen-of-the-World would be positively
appalled
to find something so dirty in the vicinity of her beautiful new birthday present.” Janie threw her hand over her eyes and pretended to faint. “
Oh, the outrage of it all
.” She feigned a high-pitched Scarlett O’Hara kind of southern accent, a sharp contrast to her own deep voice and country twang.

“Oh, I do apologize, madam.” Brandy approached the vehicle in question. She turned back toward Janie. “You got a key? I’m thinking this paint job could use a little . . . customizing.”

“Customizing, yeah, I think that’s exactly what that car needs.” Janie rubbed her chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Yes, definitely.” She pulled a key ring out of her pocket and tossed it toward Brandy, but not quite far enough.

Brandy bent over and picked it up. The small metal ring held a large brass J, a miniature Corvette, and a multicolored peace sign, as well as two keys. The first key was blunt and quite thick, not a particularly useful tool. The second one, which looked to be a mailbox key perhaps, was much thinner and sharper. The perfect weapon. Brandy scanned the parking lot, making certain that they were alone.

That’s when she saw movement coming from the next row over. A woman was walking down the middle of the lot, heading their way. Brandy pocketed the keys, waiting for her to stop at her own car, but the young woman kept drawing closer. She wore aviator-style sunglasses and a pink baseball cap pulled low, a black ponytail bobbing out the back. She continued to move toward them until Brandy and Janie both ducked behind the convertible to avoid being seen. Peeking over the car door, Brandy saw the girl stop at a blue Prius not ten yards away, then turn and look over her shoulder as if sensing she was being watched.

“What’s
she
doing here?” Brandy whispered and dropped back down below the car door.

In a few seconds, the Prius pulled out of its spot, the hum of the tires on the pavement the only clue that it was in motion before it disappeared.

“Coast is clear.” Janie stood up and stretched. “You know that girl?”

“Unfortunately.” Brandy would waste no other words discussing that stuck-up piece of work. Life was too short.

“All right, then. Are you ready to do some cus-tom-izing?” Janie dragged the word out, making each syllable deep and gravelly, as if she were the baddest girl in town. If she was so bad, then why was she prepared to stand by, hip cocked like she was something, and let Brandy do all the work and take all the risks?

“Changed my mind.” Brandy started toward the school.

“Wait, what? I thought you were gonna . . . you know . . . What’s the matter?”

Brandy turned. “I changed my mind, I told you. Isn’t a person allowed to do that around here? You want it done so badly, do it yourself.” She pulled the keys from her pocket and flung them several car lengths back, in the general direction of the red car.

“Hey, why’d you go and do that?”

The bell rang, announcing five minutes until the next class. Brandy sauntered toward the building, not giving Janie a second look. It was time that girl learned to do something on her own.

Inside, Brandy stopped at her locker and got out her math notebook, supposing she should at least make it appear that she was serious about her studies.
Ha.

When she walked into the classroom, she passed a group of girls huddled at the back of the class. They all seemed to be chattering at once. “Did Bradley ask you to the dance yet?” “Are y’all going to eat at ChaCha’s before or should we meet at Langmo’s?” Ah yes, the school dance was this weekend.
What a bunch of losers.

Brandy took her seat in the far back corner just as the bell rang. The girls slowly broke up their conversation, but they were still giggling and whispering as they made their way toward the front.

Mrs. Panneke walked over and took a seat on a tall stool beside the projector. “All right everyone, open your books to chapter 3. Today we’re going to talk about—”

“Mrs. Panneke?” One of the student assistants from the office stood at the door, a piece of paper in her hand. “Coach Thompson asked me to get this to you right away.” She walked in and delivered the note, then disappeared out the door.

Mrs. Panneke looked up. “Brandy? Coach Thompson would like to see you in his classroom immediately after this period.”

Brandy could practically hear the heads whipping around to
face her. She knew what they were all thinking, and for once, she was wondering the same thing. What had she done now?

“Brandy, come in, have a seat.” Coach Thompson motioned to the desk closest to his own. He didn’t exactly smile, but he didn’t look mad, either. Perhaps he’d seen them smoking and this was going to be one of those “smoking is bad for you” talks. No problem. Adult blather was easy enough to tune out.

She took a seat, folded her arms, and waited for the onslaught. He shifted and rubbed the back of his neck, but seemed to be searching for the words. Good, this lecture would likely be short.

“How are you enjoying our school?”

Brandy snorted. “I don’t know that
enjoy
and
school
are two words I would ever use in the same sentence.”

“So I’ve gathered.” He came to sit in the student desk beside her. “I understand you are quite a good runner.”

Brandy shrugged but didn’t say anything. The quieter she remained, the faster this would be over.

“Here’s the thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “I don’t allow troublemakers on my team. Period. That’s always been my rule. One strike and you’re out.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not on your team, then.” Brandy stared directly into his eyes, letting him know she wasn’t scared of him or his rules. What did she care what he did for his team?

“Would you like to be?” He took off his little wire-rimmed glasses and looked at her.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Like I said, I’ve heard you are a good runner.”

“Yeah, and like you said, zero tolerance. I’m thinking one call to the school office could let you know that I’m not your girl.”

“You are more than correct on that score. I’ve already talked to them.”

“Then why would you even make this offer? I talked to Coach Reznik. She already told me I can’t be on the track team. This whole conversation seems a little pointless.”

“I know something of your situation, so let’s just say I’m willing to give you a break.”

“Why?”

“If you must know, it’s because one of the greatest runners I’ve ever known asked me to give you a chance.”

“Someone asked you to give
me
a chance? Who?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s someone I respect enough that I’m willing to try something that I’m pretty sure I will regret.”

Brandy sat there, trying to get her mind around what was happening. She wasn’t about to get a lecture for yet another mistake. This guy was offering to help her, to maybe keep her from being sent to who knows where. Not only that, she was actually being asked to do something . . . something respectable. How long had it been since that had happened? “I appreciate the thought and all, really I do, but something tells me we’d both be wasting our time.”

“There’s only one way we’ll ever know the answer to that question, isn’t there? Why don’t we give it a shot? Who knows, maybe we’ll both be pleasantly surprised.”

Memories of finish lines and blue ribbons and the out-and-out admiration from the other kids flashed through her mind. For just a moment, she felt the rush that a sideline of cheering fans could bring on. How long had it been? She knew the answer. Too long. “I don’t think so.”

“Why don’t you give it some thought? Per district policy, it’s too late to add you to this season’s track roster even if Coach Reznik suddenly decided she wanted to—which she doesn’t. But I work with the two-milers Tuesdays and Thursdays. You can
come work out with us on those days, and start getting geared up for cross-country in the fall. We have several superb distance runners on the team, but we could always use one more.”

“I just don’t think I’m your girl.”

“Probably you are right, Miss Philip. But what are your options?” He sighed. “Here’s the thing. I don’t usually go out of my way like this, but I’m giving this a chance. For your part, I’d want you to work out with us this week, then come hear the speaker at lunchtime on Friday at the Fellowship of Christian Runners’ meeting. She, too, came from a difficult background, but went on to become a college athlete. Now she coaches at the Samson Academy up in Nashville.”

“Samson Academy? That’s where all the rich parents send their kids, so they’ll be on the top sports team and get scholarships.”

Coach Thompson nodded. “I think there’s some truth to that.”

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it, if only rich kids can afford to go there, why do they need scholarships for college in the first place? Why not leave them for the kids who can’t afford college on their own? It’s one more way they’ve got it all rigged in their favor. There’s nothing left for someone like me.”

“Well, I’m offering you a chance to change all that. You come to practice tomorrow and Thursday, and the meeting on Friday, and then we’ll talk more about it.”

A skeletal memory dug itself free from deep within the graveyard where Brandy had long ago buried such thoughts. It was track-and-field day for Mrs. Tooley’s kindergarten class, and Mom was there watching. She was wearing her prettiest pink blouse, and her hair was brushed straight, shining like black silk in the sun. She held open her arms, and Brandy ran to her. She could feel the intensity of her mother’s hug. Then she pulled back, eyes shining and so remarkably clear and focused that day. “I’m so proud of my girl, winning all three races.” She pulled Brandy
close again. “We’re going to be all right, the two of us. You keep on running fast like that and the two of us, well, we’ll go places, you wait and see.”

Just as suddenly as the memory appeared, it evaporated into the darkness and smoke and stupor that covered all her childhood memories. And then Brandy was back in the present, looking at Coach Thompson, still trying to figure out why he was willing to do this, and even more so, why she suddenly wanted to. “Yeah, maybe I’ll be there.”

He smiled. “Good, that’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

Brandy started for the door, and as much as she hated to admit it, she felt something like excitement. Someone had recommended her. One of the greatest runners Coach Thompson had ever known. Who could it possibly be? She thought about her junior high track coach, but that had only lasted a few weeks until Ms. Bickers kicked her off the team. No, it couldn’t be her.

Brandy didn’t bother to exit toward the parking lot. She knew that by now Janie would have left without her. She started the long walk toward home still puzzling about what had happened. For just a split second, the memory flashed through her mind of the girl in the parking lot. No, it couldn’t be her. The last person on earth who would ever go out of her way to help Brandy was that chubby-faced diva. Not to mention, she hardly looked like the athletic type.

Without consciously making the decision to do so, Brandy began to jog, then run, then all-out sprint toward home. She concentrated on taking long, sweeping strides, pushing her legs to move faster and faster, long past the point that her burning leg muscles cried out for relief. She refused to give in to the pain, not allowing herself to slow until she reached the sidewalk in front of her grandmother’s house. There, she slowed to a walk, gasping for air, trying to make sense of it all. She couldn’t. But
as she paced back and forth, waiting for her breathing to slow, her mind seemed to work with renewed clarity, and that’s when she knew for certain who had made the recommendation. She just didn’t know why.

Why would Sabrina ask Coach Thompson to help her? What could possibly be in it for Sabrina? And what did he mean when he said she was one of the greatest runners he’d ever known? One thing was certain. Brandy didn’t know any of the answers.

Yet.

W
hat’s the matter, Sabrina?”

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

Sabrina’s mother had a mood radar that was uncannily accurate even from over a hundred miles away, through nothing but a phone line and less than a few sentences into a conversation. “Oh come on now, we both know that I know something is bothering you.”

What
was
wrong? How could Sabrina explain it to her mother, when she didn’t understand it herself? “I wish I knew what to tell you, but I really . . . don’t. I’m just stressed out about school and internships, I guess.”

“What’s new with the internship position?”

“They want me to come to Atlanta for an interview next month. There will be over fifty applicants called in. A maximum of fifteen will be offered intern positions. Grace Rose only hires entry-level employees from their intern pool, and usually only about three of them. So . . . we’re looking at some long odds.”

“I’ve never known you to be one who is daunted by long odds, so somehow I doubt the problem is stemming from there.”

And Sabrina knew that her mother was right. Those kinds of numbers didn’t upset her, they motivated her. Excited her, even. No, her melancholy had nothing to do with her school or internships. “Mom, you remember
Chariots of Fire
?”

“Remember it?” Her mother laughed. “Honey, we’ve watched that movie so many times over the years that you know we could both quote it.”

Sabrina put the phone on her other ear. “Eric Liddell said he could feel God’s pleasure when he ran, remember that?”

“Of course.”

“Eric Liddell felt God’s pleasure when he ran and God blessed him with an Olympic gold medal. I used to feel God’s pleasure when I ran, and now . . . well . . . why would God do that?”

Her mother was quiet for just a moment. When she started speaking again, her voice was low, thoughtful. “Honey, I’ve asked myself—and God—that same question. I wish I knew the answer for you, but I don’t. All I can say is I believe with all my heart that God did plant His call on you, and that He did it for a reason. You know that I believe His call is still on you.”

This was the biggest disagreement between the two of them. Sabrina’s mother insisted that the call to mission work did not end when the running ended. Sabrina saw it differently. “Then why would He take away the means to accomplish the call?”

“Obviously the means He has in mind are different than what we understood. Things aren’t going to happen the way we had planned, but the answer is there for us. We just need to keep praying and looking for it.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” But Sabrina knew her path was in a different direction now. Her shoulders sagged with the onslaught
of exhaustion. It was too much. Too much. “Good night, Mom. Thanks for always being here for me.”

“Sorry I don’t have any easy answers for you.”

“Me too, Mom. Me too.”

Nothing had ever kicked Brandy’s rear quite as bad as the two days of team practice. Her calves burned going up and down stairs, her thighs were tight and sore, and her butt was downright aching. But no way would she let on to any of it. She wouldn’t give those other kids the satisfaction of thinking that she might not be good enough or strong enough to run with them. When she left the team, it would be on her own terms, not theirs. And
no one
would say she left because she wasn’t tough enough.

But there were some things she wasn’t signed up for, like this lunchtime propaganda meeting. Coach had wanted her here, so here she sat—not wanting to get him all mad at her just yet. She’d wait until he was convinced his team couldn’t do without her before she pushed back on some of his crazy rules.

They held the meeting in the largest classroom on campus—the only one with auditorium-style seating. There were easily sixty kids there, so it shouldn’t be that hard to sign in, get seen by the powers that be, and then disappear without anyone noticing. Brandy printed her name on the sign-in list, then made her way to the far back corner. When the time was right, she’d slip out the back and meet Janie for a quick smoke before their next class.

“You’re Brandy, right?” A tall girl with long blond hair came to sit beside her. “I’ve been wanting a chance to introduce myself since you started working out with us. I’m Erin Methvin.”

Brandy nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen you at practice.” Which was partially true. She’d seen Erin’s ponytail at practice. The distance
runners were split into three groups. There were the beginners, those who could barely run a mile without puking. They brought up the rear. Then there was the middle group, the ones with fair endurance and speed. The third pack led the way down the sidewalk, around the city block that encircled the school and through the small park across the street. That group moved at an amazing pace, but not only did they never seem to break a sweat, they carried on an almost constant conversation as they ran.

On the first day of practice, Coach Thompson had said, “Don’t worry about trying to hang with the front group. Those are experienced runners—we don’t expect you to keep up with them. In fact, if you need to run with the group in the back while you’re getting started, that’s fine, too.”

“As if.” Brandy walked away from him, directly toward the front, her plan being to blow them all out on the very first day, thereby establishing where she ranked in the pecking order around there.

Instead, she’d learned the hard way that there was a major difference in sprinting distances just far enough to break free of pursuing cops, and running three or four miles at a consistent pace. She’d spent both workouts giving it everything she had just to maintain pace with the tail end of the front group. That first practice, she might have even given up and allowed herself to fall back into the middle group had it not been for Coach Thompson’s words. No way was she going to give the satisfaction to some old man who thought he knew her. And since Erin had always been one of the leaders of the front group, Brandy just focused in on her ponytail as they ran. It would swing back and forth with each stride Erin took, somehow mocking her with each sweeping movement. Brandy saw it at night when she closed her eyes.

“I’m glad we get this chance to sit together and chat for a few minutes before the speaker starts. Aren’t you?”

“Sure.” Brandy glanced toward the exit door, now considerably further from her grasp than it had been just a few seconds before. “It’s just that—”

“Thanks for coming, everyone.” Coach Thompson looked around the room, his eyes coming to rest on Brandy and Erin. “It’s great to see you all here. Why don’t those of you toward the back move forward. I know you’re not going to want to miss anything that Ms. Ratcliff is going to say. I’m sure you all will find her very inspiring.”

“I guess we better move up a few rows.” Erin smiled at her.

“Guess so.”

In spite of her best efforts to tune out the speaker, somewhere in the middle of her talk, Brandy found herself listening, interested even. This girl had come from a broken home, had to pay her own way to college. Regardless of where she was working now, she hadn’t been born a rich brat.

“So, after making the team as a freshman walk-on and then surpassing everyone’s expectations for three years, one day a coach pulled me aside with the news I had been dying to hear. They were working on finally securing me a scholarship slot for my senior year. You can’t even imagine what that sounds like to a person who had been working, going to school full-time, and amassing a fortune in student loans. Sounds like an answer to that prayer I’ve been telling you about, right?”

Heads nodded around the room. They all knew where this was going—happy ending for the girl who prayed and didn’t give up.

“That’s what I thought, too, until a couple weeks later. The same coach came to me and apologized, but said they wouldn’t be able to make me the offer after all. They’d found a running
prodigy that they were desperate to sign. She’d be taking my scholarship slot. They had to promise her four years to get her to sign and so my chance was gone. I was devastated.” The woman stopped speaking and swallowed hard, composing herself.

“And here’s the thing. When this
prodigy
showed up, she had the worst work ethic I’d ever seen. She missed practice after practice, always with some excuse about her knees or hips hurting. You know?” She paused and looked around the room. “We’re runners. Our knees and hips are going to hurt sometimes, that’s part of it.” Everyone nodded again.

“In fact, this prodigy only ran in three events that year, and I crushed her time in all three of them. But you know what? God was faithful. Word of my success reached the people at Samson Academy and they offered me a job, including a reverse scholarship that will help pay off my loans. I am currently training some of the greatest young runners in Nashville. In fact, I’m more than confident that several of my runners will make the Olympic team in a couple of years. So my prayer was answered, just not in the exact way I expected it to be. Don’t ever give up, even when it seems like God has forgotten you. He’s still got something in store.” Kayla Ratcliff left the podium to great applause, waving at the group.

“Wow, wasn’t she just amazing?” Erin shook her head slowly in thought. “What determination. What a great faith.”

“Sure.” Brandy got up quickly from her seat and hurried out of the room. She didn’t want to think about this stuff anymore. Hopefully Janie was still somewhere to be found in the parking lot.