30. Zeke
DAY FIVE OF THE 2024 OLYMPICS
Zeke was supposed to be focusing on training, but his mind kept replaying the night before. That earth-shattering, head-dizzying kiss. Remembering the way he’d wrapped his arms around Olivia and how fiercely she’d pushed herself up against his body, her thin shirt and maddeningly soft shorts brushing against him. They’d kissed with such an urgency that it had taken everything in him to let go. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that he could walk away from and remain the same. Olivia wasn’t the kind of girl he could meet and then just go back to his normal life. And he could feel it in his performance that morning. It was the day of the quarterfinals, but he kept on making silly mistakes.
“Too late off the finish line, Moyo,” said Coach Adam, shaking his head after yet another substandard run.
“Sorry, Coach, just feeling a little distracted,” said Zeke.
“Well undistract yourself.”
Zeke walked back to the other side of the track to try again. But when he got into his starting position, he remembered the way Olivia had gasped when he’d lifted her off the floor and the way she’d whispered his name as he’d planted hot, impatient kisses against the side of her neck.
“Zeke!” shouted Coach Adam. Zeke looked around and realized that Coach had blown the whistle to signal the start of his practice sprint, but he was still stationary. He’d never missed the start of a run before. Coach Adam looked at him with a mixture of worry and disbelief. Zeke couldn’t believe himself either.
“I don’t know where your head is at, kid,” said Coach Adam, with a look of pure incredulity, “but you need to get it together.”
“Yes, Coach,” said Zeke, nodding.
By the time he walked into the stadium for the quarterfinals, Zeke had shut off almost all of his distractions. He’d listened to music that helped him focus, watched videos of his old races to study his technique, and spent the hour leading up to the race alone so that he couldn’t get distracted by other people’s conversations.
Zeke had been watching his Team GB teammates’ competitions all week. He’d cheered wildly as he’d watched the rowers win their semifinal. Nearly bitten his fingers off as he’d watched the intense boxing quarterfinal. And he’d stared up at the screen in the Team GB common room in awe as he and his teammates watched the synchronized swimmers do their first routine. Camille had sprained her wrist during practice, so the team physio had prescribed her two days of rest before she trained again. Frankie had made it to the semifinals of the 5000m run, but Anwar missed out on qualifying for the next round of the javelin throw by just a couple of centimeters. There were mixed emotions in GB House as some athletes celebrated their first medals while others hid away in their rooms, packing their suitcases to go home early. Each time Zeke saw one of his teammates reach their goal or miss out at the last hurdle, the pressure and the stakes went up.
As he entered the stadium, the energy of the crowd was on a whole other level. Because while the athletes channeled the intensity of the occasion into their performance, the audience did it by filling the stadium with the excitement and energy of a festival. There were adults with flags painted on their cheeks and kids sporting brightly colored wigs. Families who’d traveled across the world in matching DIY shirts and groups of friends singing and chanting the words to unofficial national anthems. There was music pouring out of the speakers and a wave rippling across the stadium. But when the 100m sprint was announced, a hush descended on the spectators.
Zeke shook hands with each of his competitors, reminded himself that the most important sprinter was the one in his lane, and got ready to run.
When the starting gun blew, Zeke got off to a clean, confident start. As he felt the wind in his face, distractions melted away and all he could think about was the sound of his shoes as they hit the track. He was doing what he’d been put on this earth to do, and he was doing an excellent job of it. But then, as he approached the end, his foot slid. It was only for a fraction of a second but enough to skew his balance. Before he knew it, he was falling. Everything after that happened in slow motion. He threw his hands out to brace for impact. The colors and lights in the stadium began to blur and the world turned sideways as he fell. When his hands landed on the hard red ground of the running track, everything went silent for a second.
Zeke felt an overwhelming sense of terror at the realization that he’d fallen in the middle of his race. His immediate worry should have been about whether he was injured, the possibility of not qualifying for the semifinals, or the real threat of missing out on his chance to win gold. But, instead, he thought about his father. What if this summer was his last chance to become the great athlete they’d dreamed he could become? What if this was actually a career-ending moment?
Zeke opened his eyes and pushed himself up from the ground as the other runners thundered past and reunited with their coaches. The race was over. He could feel himself beginning to panic.
But then the whole stadium began cheering for him. His heart sank; he’d heard cheers like this before: It’s okay, you tried your best cheers. His face fell. Then he was surrounded by his Team GB teammates. Anwar and Frankie jumped on him, and the rest of the team ran to hug him, pounding his back and yelling until their voices were hoarse.
“You did it!” shouted Anwar, who’d decided to stay in Athens until the Games ended.
“What?” said Zeke, still confused.
“Got into the semifinals!” said Frankie. Zeke looked around in disbelief. His teammates and the crowd were still going wild. He looked up at the big screen to watch the replay and finally connected the dots. Yes, he’d lost his balance while he was still on the track, but he’d been in the lead for the whole race. He’d fallen just a fraction of a second after both of his feet had passed the finish line. If he’d fallen just half a second earlier, he would have gone home empty-handed. But now he was through to the semifinals. It was such a breathtaking near loss that it felt even more spectacular.
Zeke gaped in astonishment. Coach Adam hugged him and shook his head in shock.
“You were this close,” said Coach Adam.
“This close,” said Zeke, his eyes widening with an equal amount of terror and relief as the gravity of it all began to settle in. He could feel his knees stinging and, when he looked down, he could see blood in the places he’d scraped them on the ground. But besides a few cuts and bruises that would heal in a matter of days, he had escaped the fall without an injury or any serious pain.
“There’s got to be someone up there looking out for you,” said Coach Adam. Zeke believed there was.
The older he got, the more he tried to treat each win as cause for celebration. And he immediately knew how he was going to celebrate his skin-of-the-teeth victory.
But first, he had to find Olivia.