I knew, as soon as I had trudged over to the finish line, that she would beat me. That I had no chance. But after her being so mean to me, I had to win. I had to prove that just because I'm not popular or particularly pretty or not athletic, that I can be whatever I set out to be. That I can overrule her. So, when the gun is fired, I am determined to at least keep her within seeing range. I run as fast as I can, but she drifts out of view. I know that I have to move faster. I stare at my feet, pushing me off the ground, and I force myself to make them move faster. And even though my legs are burning and I can't breathe, I pursue her. Finally, she is in seeing range. I erratically shake my head, trying to wake myself from the dream I am having. But it is not a dream. I am getting closer and closer to her. At about 100 yards from the finish line, she begins to sprint as hard as she can, which is remarkably fast. After 20 yards, I can't push myself any farther, my legs are on fire. But then, it all flashes before my eyes.
I am in the lunchroom at school. I approach her table to sit with some nice girls from my math class. But she pushes me away.
I am walking to my house from my bus stop. She approaches with some other girls and calls me a loser.
I am at the school basketball tournament, cheering for my best friends, when all the phones of the student spectators bleep simultaneously, including mine. Slowly, I check the text messege I have recieved. It says to stay away from me because I have a bad case of some made up disease and I am contagious. She catches my eye and waves her phone at me with a snarky smile. Everyone surrounding me backs away.
Then I am pulled back to the present, and I know that she cannot win. I run so fast that I think my feet never hit the ground. I am finally next to her. And I look at her with the same snarky smile she gave me, and then know I have the power to cross the finish line first. And I do.
