Chapter Six
Archie
The end of the day comes way too fast.
The stands are starting to fill up, parents and spectators trickling in from all directions.
It’s a reasonably big event tonight; runners from every year group, lots of alumni, plenty of people ready to cheer and donate.
The lights are on, music is playing low in the background, and the energy in the air is buzzing.
I refuse to look toward the stands; I keep my eyes glued to Coach instead. He’s standing in front of all of us in his usual power stance, arms crossed, giving us the usual pre-event speech.
“Alright, listen up. This isn’t just another training session.
This is a showcase. I expect good sportsmanship, good behaviour, and sharp presentation out there.
Especially you, final years, you never know who’s watching.
Scouts, donors, press… eyes are on you tonight.
Represent yourselves and this program properly. ”
I’m only a second year, so the scout talk isn’t really aimed at me yet, but I know I’m good.
Coach claps his hands together. “We’re starting off strong. First heat of the 300m sprint: Archie, Mayla, and Rupert.”
My head snaps up. “Wait… what? Now?”
Mayla, a fast, confident third-year, laughs and walks over, throwing a sweaty arm around my shoulders. “You’re one of the best, kid. You’ve got this.”
I smile at her nervously. “Coach, I’d feel more comfortable if I wasn’t running against Mayla… no offence.”
Coach grins, clearly amused. “We’re mixing all the year groups tonight, Archie. Besides… I wouldn’t put you in this heat if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
I groan loudly, dragging a hand down my face.
Mayla squeezes my shoulder. “Hey, you’re opening the event, Archie. After this we get to chill for a bit until the relays.”
I reply with as much sarcasm as I can muster: “Yayyyy.”
The whole group laughs, amused at my weak protests.
I can feel the hype building in the air around us; nervous energy, adrenaline, and that electric buzz that comes with an event night.
…
The bleachers are full enough now; not completely packed, but plenty full for my liking. All the students are clustered to one side of the track, nerves and anticipation thick in the air.
Coach steps up with a microphone, the head of the sports department beside him.
The head speaks first, voice booming through the speakers: “Good evening everyone, and welcome to our Summer Showcase and Fundraising Night! We’re thrilled to see so many of you here supporting our athletics program.
Tonight, you’ll see some of our finest athletes competing across multiple events.
All proceeds from ticket sales and donations will go directly toward new equipment and track maintenance. So please, enjoy the show!”
There’s a polite applause. Coach takes the mic next, grinning. “Alright, let’s get this thing started! We’re kicking the evening off with a mixed-year three-hundred-metre sprint. Runners come on over.”
I groan loudly and lean toward Jay. “Dude… out of all of us here, I’m really gonna do the first heat?”
Jay grins encouragingly and pats my shoulder firmly. “Arch, you’ve got this, believe in yourself. Coach is waiting, man.”
I look over and see Coach waving the three of us forward.
Rupert falls into step beside me as we walk toward the starting line. “You’ve got this, bro,” he says, bumping my fist. “Let’s see how fast you can run.”
I laugh nervously as I step into lane one. I do a little jump on the spot and push out a big exhale, trying to shake the nerves out of my legs.
Then I hear it, loud and clear across the track, “Go Archie! That’s my baby!”
I groan and immediately cover my face with both hands. I still refuse to look over at the stands, but after a second, I drop my hands, shaking my head with a reluctant little laugh.
Coach chuckles nearby. “Focus, Archie. Show your mom how good of a runner you are.”
I nod, cheeks warm, and step up to the line properly.
The three of us settle into our starting blocks.
Mayla in lane two, Rupert in lane three.
I dig my spikes into the track, hands braced on the cool surface, muscles coiled tight.
My heart is hammering. The crowd has gone quieter, waiting.
I take one last deep breath, staring down the track, every nerve in my body buzzing with adrenaline.
The gun cracks and we explode off the blocks.
Mayla gets the best start; she’s a beast and shoots ahead like a rocket for the first hundred meters.
I stay relaxed, arms pumping smooth, breathing controlled.
The wind whips across my face and through my hair as my spikes dig into the track.
This is what I love. Not the crowds, not the pressure; just this.
The burn in my lungs, the power in my legs, the way everything else fades until it’s just me, the track, and the next stride.
By the 150m mark I’ve found my rhythm. I dig in harder, legs churning, chest lifting. The gap starts closing. Mayla’s early pace is catching up to her now; she’s fading. Rupert is pushing hard on my outside, but I dig deeper, teeth gritted, driving forward.
I cross the line first, just half a stride ahead of Rupert. Mayla comes in third, breathing hard, having burned too hot at the start.
The three of us slow down and immediately collide into a messy little group hug, patting each other’s backs and shoulders, laughing through heavy breaths.
The crowd claps loudly, however, one cheer cuts through all the others; bright, proud, and way too loud.
“Go Archie!”
I grin despite myself but still refuse to look over toward the stands.
Coach catches my eye from the side and gives me a big thumbs up with a wink, like he’s saying, ‘knew you had it in you, kid.’
The three of us walk over to the benches reserved for runners just in front of the bleachers; close enough to hear the crowd but far enough that parents can’t swarm us. My throat is burning, chest heaving as I drop down onto the bench and lean forward, elbows on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
…
Twenty minutes later the music is thumping lightly through the speakers, keeping the energy high. Someone’s been walking around handing out cold drinks to the spectators, and I’ve finally managed to shove my anxiety about Mom and Colt watching into the back of my mind. I’m just having fun now.
It’s relay time; five teams of four. I’m anchor, last leg, which means I’m standing at the end of the track, bouncing on my toes, waiting.
Jay takes off first because he always fights to be the starter. He gets us a decent lead. Then Zack gets the baton; he’s not the fastest but he’s solid and never drops it. He keeps us in contention. Kim gets it next and flies… she’s quick as hell on the straight.
“RUN ARCH!” she screams as she slaps the baton into my hand.
I grab it tight and bolt; adrenaline surges through me like fire.
My legs burn, arms pumping hard, spikes digging into the track with every stride.
Jordan, one of the strong third-years, is just ahead of me, maybe a half-stride.
I push harder, teeth bared, wind roaring past my ears.
The crowd is loud in the background, all of it fading into a dull roar.
I close the gap… but I can’t quite catch him. We cross the line almost together. Second place. I laugh breathlessly and bend over, hands on my knees, chest heaving.
Jordan stops beside me, grinning down at me. “You totally could have had that.”
I laugh and fist-bump him. “Next time, man.”
Before I can stand up straight, Kim launches herself onto my back. “Woo! Second place, baby!”
I stumble forward a step, catching her thighs quickly with both hands so we don’t eat grass. “Jesus Christ, Kim! Bit of warning next time!”
She laughs right in my ear. “Yeah, well I’m getting tired now, Arch.”
I shake my head, still breathing hard, a tired grin pulling at my lips. “Yeah… we all are, Kim.”
I walk us over to the student benches and carefully lower her down before slumping beside her. Not even thirty seconds later, Jay comes jogging over with a massive, suspicious grin; he reaches out and yanks me up by the arm.
“Jay, what…?”
He simultaneously dumps an entire cold bottle of water over both of our heads.
“Jayden Barnes! What are you doing?!” his mom shouts from the stands.
I burst out laughing and shove him lightly, looking toward her, “It’s all good, Mrs. B… feels good actually!”
His mom rolls her eyes but grins, leaning over to say something to Jay’s dad.
My eyes reluctantly drift across the crowd until they land on my mom. She’s laughing behind her hands. I grin and shake my head at her. She mouths, ‘you okay?’ I give her a nod and a thumbs up, but I look away quickly; not letting my gaze flick to Colt.
Colt
I’ve been watching him for the last forty minutes, and the feeling in my chest is a strange mix of pride and something darker.
Archie is incredible. I always knew he was good; Sarah talks about his times and how hard he trains, but I didn’t know he could run like that.
When he’s on the track, he looks… alive, focused, and powerful.
There’s this fierce, almost joyful expression on his face when he hits his stride, like the rest of the world disappears and he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.
The way he moves, completely in control, it’s beautiful to watch.
He makes it look effortless even when he’s clearly pushing his body to the limit.
And yet, not once in the past forty minutes has he looked over here; not even a glance.
Sarah had started shifting in her seat beside me, getting a little uneasy.
“Why hasn’t he looked over yet?” she’d whispered after the first couple of races, a small frown pulling at her brow.
She was starting to wonder if he really was embarrassed of us.