by Lila C., 12
The junebugs were hissing softly in the distance as I neared the last section of my run. My feet danced as I continued further. My straight hair swung in all directions; my high ponytail was the only thing keeping it from blasting off. I could see my little sister waving her chubby arms from the stands. So I took my chances and looked back.
Johnson, my main competitor, was about three yards behind me. Yes! While I continued to run my hardest, Johnson was fast and there was still another quarter mile. If not first, I would be second place—all the others were far behind.
The trees, which had provided my comforting shade through most of my run, must have needed a break of protecting me for I found myself in a small clearing. But immediately, I dived back into the forest once I saw the option, pushing Johnson farther and farther behind me.
I thought: I might actually win. I ran my last wits as I suddenly saw the finish line steps ahead of me. I threw myself past it and fell to my knees. Almost a hundred people watched me from the stands.
“Whoo!” I screamed. I was drenched in sweat but my smile was beaming. I stood up slowly; my mom and siblings hurried from the stands to congratulate me.
I stood on the sidelines, feeling amazing, my siblings surrounding me, as I caught Johnson in the corner of my eye, catching second. He was disappointed, I knew it. There were more than ten kids competing—he should be proud, but instead he looked miserable as he walked to the stands.
“Tucker!” said Coach to me. “Go on up and get your trophy. Good way to start a season. I’m really proud of you, Lane.”
Another trophy added to my trophy wall.
Madison, Wisconsin
Bridge Ink 