Chapter Three. Clara
CHAPTER THREE
CLARA
THEN
REID WAS NEW TO our school but already known. Rumors like gunning for state champion … the future of the sport … got to Woodhurst long before he did. When I caught him with my lens for the first time, the thinking—about angles and lighting and shot lists—all stopped and instinct took over.
For as many people who were excited about someone of his caliber joining our team, I’d heard even more were stressed that he was a lock for a coveted Legacy spot, which would leave only four left for the rest of us.
But I hadn’t given it much thought. I’d been otherwise too consumed with all the ways my life was imploding.
Only, now, he had my attention.
Dirt crunched under my running shoes as I stepped to the side, locking on to his profile just as a break in the clouds streamed sunlight over his dark messy hair.
He was wearing navy running shorts and a faded black shirt with the sleeves cut off, his tan, toned arms on full display.
But I was more captivated with his stillness. His fixed concentration.
Something told me to go wide and capture the way the group responded to him.
The serious runners got quiet, focused as he approached. Several girls greeted him. But he adjusted his earbuds and kept his eyes on the trail. I’d only ever seen him talk to his stepbrother, Mitchell.
I was about to take another step toward him when a tug on my arm made my shot wobble.
“Clara? Hello?” Delaney had clearly been talking while I filmed, but only now were her words registering. “I get it, he’s pretty, but can you pause your stalking for a second?”
My scoff was light, my response automatic. “I’m not stalking, I’m documenting.”
Never stop shooting. Capture everything and the story will emerge. That’s what all the great documentarians said, and I intended to do just that until I was among them someday.
But my focus didn’t derail Delaney. “Or are you trying to act like you didn’t just tell me you hooked up with Josh last night?”
Of course at that exact moment Kenji walked up to us. “I’m sorry, I think I just hallucinated—do you mean Josh West? As in captain of the team and chairman of the bros?”
Officially ripped from the moment, I looked at my two best friends. Delaney’s Disney-princess-like features were screwed up into raging disbelief and Kenji was shaking his head.
I whispered, “Could you two not yell?”
We were near the trail lot, far out of earshot from the rest of the cross-country team, but you couldn’t be too careful in Woodhurst, and I needed no one else to ever find out this information. I was still not even sure how Delaney got it out of me.
Thankfully practice was about to start, and it gave me an excuse to busy myself by putting the camera away.
I had never been a particularly good runner, but anything was better than being home.
I walked fast toward the group, but they both kept easy pace, waiting for an explanation I didn’t really have.
“We kissed. That’s all.” That wasn’t all, but I didn’t want to admit it.
“But … why Josh?” Delaney scrunched up her face. “Wow, sorry—that came out judgy.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Please judge me. I deserve it.”
In the light of day, the whole thing was utterly humiliating.
They knew I didn’t date—that I had zero interest in a boyfriend.
And Josh West wasn’t someone I’d usually ever go for, anyway.
But the previous night wasn’t usual and he was …
there. Cute enough in a generic, bro-y way.
Distracting me from the real reason I went to that party in the first place.
The crunch of pine needles under Dad’s truck tires in the driveway.
The slam of Mom’s bedroom door in response.
The revolving door of leaving and coming back.
It was a sloppy mistake.
Kenji’s and Delaney’s expressions made it clear they were desperate for more details, but I just wanted to forget about it and start senior year—Legacy year—right.
Woodhurst’s Legacy Program offered a massive scholarship, and only five students were awarded one out of every graduating class.
It was ultracompetitive, which meant I couldn’t afford to make sloppy mistakes or to break any of the rules.
I needed that scholarship if I had any chance of going to California Film Academy.
Every move I made would matter going forward.
I wrangled my hair into a ponytail, and when I secured my hair tie, I stopped walking to hold out my pinkie to them. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
Delaney scoffed. “I’m offended you think I would.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. Woodhurst was small and Woodhurst High was even smaller. News traveled fast, but gossip? Gossip had its own speed. And that speed was Delaney Whitlock.
“Swear.”
With a dramatic exhale she hooked my pinkie with her own and promised seriously, “I swear.”
“Me too,” Kenji agreed. “I’ve already forgotten what we were talking about because the hottest brothers on the planet are looking at me. Gotta go!”
Kenji took off to go talk to Mitchell, and the two of them fell into easy conversation.
At the trailhead, a few of the varsity try-hards like Nicole Kelly were gathered in a huddle, talking in hushed tones. They were all friendly with Delaney, who was also captain of the pom squad, thus more popular than any of us, but they more or less acted like I didn’t exist.
“Amaya just needs to dump him for good already,” Nicole said as we approached.
Amaya? As in Josh’s ex-girlfriend? Oh no.
“What are we talking about?” Delaney asked. Her brown doe eyes went wide with concerned interest. I didn’t “girl” very well, but the way she did was masterful.
“Josh. Heather saw him go into a room with someone last night.”
My bag hit the dirt so hard a plume of dust kicked up around it.
Josh and Amaya had been off-and-on since freshman year. Josh told me that they were definitely off. If that wasn’t true, the whole situation had rapidly morphed from dumb mistake to royal fuckup.
But I kept my expression as neutral as possible. Growing up in a family that created talk, I’d learned to keep my emotions off my face. My mom called it the swimming-duck effect; I’m cool on the outside, even as I’m absolutely losing it under the surface.
Delaney lowered her voice, betraying nothing when she asked, “Do you know who it was?”
“No,” Heather admitted. “It was too dark, and they didn’t come out before I left.”
“So, then we have no idea what happened,” Delaney said.
“It was probably some clueless freshman,” Heather continued, barely listening. “Since I don’t know how anyone else could do that to Amaya.”
Shame spiraled through me faster. Thankfully, Delaney thought so quickly on her feet it was dizzying.
“If anything happened, which we don’t know if it did”—Delaney threw Heather a side-eye—“why are you immediately blaming the girl? What if Josh lied about them breaking up or something?”
Nicole sighed and rolled her eyes. “True. We all know how he is. Besides, how could anyone keep track when Amaya and Josh break up and get back together every other day, anyway?”
I was a little surprised by her response, since she and Amaya were best friends. Then again, I didn’t know if anyone was as lucky as I was to have a best friend who had their back the way Delaney had mine.
The other girls nodded like Nicole had a point, and Delaney and I exchanged a quick glance. Had that actually worked? If so, then Delaney hadn’t just helped me dodge a social bullet—she’d sent it in the opposite direction. I basically owed her my firstborn.
Mercifully, Coach Rousseau, Reid’s dad, started practice and arranged everyone into our timed groups, separating us into varsity and JV.
I managed to feel relieved for a whole minute before Josh jogged toward us from the parking lot.
“Nice of you to join us, West,” Coach called out.
“Sorry, Coach,” Josh responded. “Late night.” He winked at me in front of everyone, and my entire body went cold. The stares on my back prickled. The low whispers started instantly.
Just like that, the bullet righted its course.
By the time we started running, I felt like a wire about to snap.
I launched myself onto the trail, the first mile passing faster than any ever had.
I pushed hard trying to block out every side-eye.
Only, it didn’t work as well as usual, so I forced my legs to move faster.
My lungs seared with the effort. But no matter how hard I tried to push it out of my mind, I couldn’t outrun my thoughts.
If Josh and Amaya were still together, that made me no better than the woman Dad left Mom for this time. It was one thing to make a mistake; it was another to hurt someone else while doing it.
By the second mile, instead of right, left, right, left, it was like the rhythm of my footfalls slapping the dirt were mocking me with the message in my head: Dad left. Dad left. Dad left.
Again.
Not knowing when he was coming back this time. If. But knowing all too well that if he did, Mom would take him back as usual. He’d apologize, and she’d forgive him, and they’d call it love. Only I seemed to know that it was bullshit.
At the fourth mile, a stitch formed right under my ribs. But I couldn’t stop. I was almost done. Rounding the corner of the path back toward the parking lot, the towering evergreens shuddered above me in the breeze. I stretched my rib cage with a lungful of the piney scent for the final leg.
Reid was waiting at the trailhead the way he always did after finishing first. He watched everyone return, hands on his hips, his stare intense and narrow. He leveled it on me. Not on my face, but on my body. My alignment.
For some reason it had an effect.
My spine straightened on instinct; my running posture snapped into place. I activated my kick, pumping my arms, sweat pouring down my temples. I gave it everything I had as I crossed the threshold with a final gasping burst of breath.