Chapter 9;sports day
1513 Words
_Stacy’s POV_
School field
The PA crackles. “Welcome to Annual Field Day! Houses, take your positions!”
Liv drags me by the wrist. “You’re on my team. Red House. Don’t pretend you forgot”.And seriously why did you come dressed like that?”
“I’m not running,” I say.”And besides my shorts are cute David got them for me”.
She laughed hard for about a minute.I was kinda embarrassed but I brushed it off.
“Good. You’re timing,” she says. Clicks a stopwatch in my palm. “See? Participation.”
The field is chaos. Painted lines. Cones. Tents. Red, blue, green, yellow. Parents in folding chairs. DJ playing something with too much bass. Kids screaming.
It smells like sunscreen and grass and hot dogs from the concession stand.
I hate it.
Xavier never came to stuff like this. “School events are for people who like noise,” he said once. He was right.
But my feet are here anyway. Liv made me wear a red bandana. Tied it around my wrist. Like that’ll make me part of something.
*7:45AM. Opening ceremony.*
Principal Vance is on the mic. Sweating through his polo. “Sportsmanship! Teamwork! House pride!”
Kids cheer. I stare at my shoes.
Someone bumps me from behind. “Watch it, ghost.”
I turn. It’s a girl from Blue House. Ponytail. Face paint. She rolls her eyes and walks off.
I’ve been “the ghost” for 3 weeks now. Since I stopped talking. Since I stopped showing up to things.So I didn’t even care..
Liv nudges me. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I lie.
“You’re not fine,” she says. “But you’re here. That counts.”
I grip the stopwatch tighter. Plastic digs into my palm.
*100m Dash.*
First event. Whistle blows. Kids explode off the line.
I’m supposed to click the stopwatch when they cross. I do. My hand moves on autopilot.
9.8 seconds. 10.2. 11.4.
Numbers. Clean. Nothing else.
Liv runs. She’s fast. Comes in 2nd. Stops, hands on knees, breathing hard. Looks at me. Grins.
I don’t grin back. I write the time down. 10.1.
“Did you see me?” she pants.
I nod.
“Wow, Stace”. Real enthusiasm,” she says, but she’s smiling. She knows I’m here. That’s enough for her.
*Tug of war.*
Red House vs Blue House. Rope thick as my arm. Mud on the ground from the sprinklers.
“Pull!” Someone yells.
Red House loses. Dragged face-first through grass. Everyone’s laughing, wiping mud, taking selfies.
I stand back. Click the stopwatch. Start. Stop. Write it down.
A boy from Yellow House trips next to me. Falls hard. Knees scrape.
“You okay?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He blinks up at me. Surprised. “Yeah. Thanks, Red.”
I nod. Look away.
First words I’ve said out loud all day. It feels rusty.
The time came for Water balloon toss where participation was compulsory
Pairs. Back up 3 steps every round. Pop means you’re out.
Liv grabs my arm. “You’re with me.”
“I don’t—”
“Too late. You’re in.” She shoves a balloon into my hands. Cold. Wet.
First throw. Easy. Catch.
Second throw. Back 3 steps. Catch.
Third throw. Back 3 steps. Balloon slips.
SPLAT.
Water runs down my face. Shirt sticks to my skin. The crowd laughs. “Ooooh!”
I wipe my face. Don’t smile. Don’t frown. Just stand there dripping.
Liv sighs. “You’re terrible at fun.”
“I’m not here for fun,” I say.
“I know,” she says quietly. “That’s why it sucks.”
A whistle sounded.Finally break time…
DJ plays a slow song. Kids pair off. Some dance awkwardly. Some sit.
I’m under the Red House tent. Bandana still on my wrist. Stopwatch on the table.
I count the paper cups. 24. The ice cubes melting. 1, 2, 3…
Someone sits on the bench across from me. Not next to. Across.
I don’t look up.
“Red House timing sucks,” a voice says. Male. Calm.
I glance up.
Cole Reyes.The coolest guy in school.He was very tall probably 7 foot and he was in the basketball team.
Not in jersey. Red House t-shirt. Sweat on his forehead. Holding a water bottle.
He’s not smiling. Not flirting. Just stating a fact.
When he got closer I noticed he had a butterfly tattoo,Giving the bad boy vibes
I stare at him. “You’re wrong. Times are accurate.”
He nods. Takes a sip of water. “I know. I checked. 10.1 on Liv. She told me.”
He knows Liv’s time. That means he watched.
My stomach does something weird. Tight.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“Water break,” he says. “You’re in the shade. And it’s kinda Cool and smart.”
He’s not asking questions. Not “you okay?” Not “why so quiet?”
Just… facts. Shade is smart. Times are accurate.
It’s infuriating. And weirdly safe.
He doesn’t sit next to me. Doesn’t push. Just drinks water. Looks at the field.
A kid runs past, trips, starts crying. Noah doesn’t move to help. He just watches.
“Aren’t you gonna…” I gesture.
“Someone else will,” he says. “Coach. Parent. Kid’s friend. Not my job to jump in every time.”
I frown. “That’s cold.”
“That’s realistic,” he says. Turns to me. “You don’t jump in either. You just watch and write numbers.”
The words hit. Because he’s right.
I open my mouth. Close it.
He shrugs. “Didn’t mean to call you out. Just… noticed.”
Silence.
The DJ switches songs. Upbeat again. Kids cheer.
Cole stands up. Cracks his neck. “I’m up next. Sack race. Dumb event.”
I nod.
He takes two steps. Stops. Turns back.
“You gonna time me?” he asks.
I blink. “I’m Red House timer.”
“So?” He holds out the stopwatch. “My time’s gonna suck. I’m all legs, no coordination. You should see it.”
I don’t take it.
“Come on,” he says. “Be useful. Write down my embarrassment. 15 seconds minimum. I’m calling it now.”
It’s a dare. Light. Not heavy.
I take the stopwatch.
He grins. Actual grin. Crooked. “Knew you would.”
He walks to the starting line. Trips over his own feet before the whistle even blows. Kids laugh.
Whistle.
He hops. Wobbles. Falls at 5 meters. Gets up. Hops again.
I click the stopwatch. Start.
He’s terrible. Elbows everywhere. Face red. But he’s laughing while he does it. Not pretending. Actually laughing.
He crosses the line. Falls again.
I stop the timer. 18.7 seconds.
He looks over, panting. “Told you. Embarrassing.”
I write it down. Then, before I can stop myself, I say: “New record.”
He freezes. Then laughs. Loud. Real.
“New record? For what, worst sack racer?”
“Fastest fall,” I say.
He stares at me. Then laughs harder. Bends over, hands on knees.
Kids look over. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,”Cole says. Still laughing. “Red House timer has jokes.”
My face goes hot. I look at the paper. 18.7. Underlined twice.
He walks back over. Takes the stopwatch. His fingers brush mine. Quick. Not intentional.
“Thanks,” he says. “For timing my disaster.”
I nod.
He doesn’t ask for my number. Doesn’t ask to sit. Doesn’t push.
He just nods at the field. “Next event’s relay. You timing that too?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Cool,” he says. “I’ll try not to fall. No promises.”
He walks away. Red shirt disappearing into the crowd.
Liv appears. “Did Cole Reyes just make you talk?”
“No,” I say. Too fast.
“Liar,” she says. “I heard you. ‘New record.’ That was a joke, Stace. You made a joke.”
I don’t answer.
“O.M.G”she whispered.”You too look good together.”And trust me Cole probably has his eye on you.”
My palm still feels warm where the stopwatch was.Nope.That’s not true.
I time every event. 200m. Long jump. Relay.
I don’t smile. Don’t talk.
But I watch the sack race line.
Cole falls again. In the relay. Trips the baton pass. Red House loses points.
He looks over at me after. Shrugs. Mouths: Still 18.7?_
I shake my head. Write the time down anyway.
He’s just… falling. And laughing. And letting me watch.
That’s new.
And it’s dangerous.
For the first time I didn’t have any thoughts about Xavier.My focus was on him.This isn’t good.
Cole just showed up and made me notice something besides the silence.
I grip the stopwatch.
Tomorrow’s still 7 hours of school.
But today? Today I wrote down 18.7 seconds and didn’t hate it.
- Writer
