Sidetracked Read online

  ORCA BOOK PIBLISHERS

  Copyright © 2012 Deb Loughead

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Loughead, Deb, 1955-

  Sidetracked [electronic resource] / Deb Loughead.

  (Orca sports)

  Electronic monograph.

  Issued also in print format.

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0251-3 (PDF).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0252-0 (EPUB)

  I. Title. II. Series: Orca sports (Online)

  PS8573.O8633S53 2012 jC813’.54 C2012-902832-0

  First published in the United States, 2012

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012938314

  Summary: Maddy’s track team struggles to stay focused

  after a theft and a bullying incident occur.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Cover photography by Corbis

  Author photo by Steve Loughead

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO Box 5626, Stn. B

  Victoria, BC Canada

  V8R 6S4 ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO Box 468

  Custer, WA USA

  98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  15 14 13 12 • 4 3 2 1

  For Barbara Gooch,

  my friend since grade ten

  Contents

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter one

  My foot is tucked up against the starting block. I’m crouched into position, waiting to hear the starter pistol go off. It’s like a signal for my body. It’s what triggers the rush. Beside me, Kat Jennings is crouched in the same position. She’s good. And she’s also my biggest rival at Eastwood High.

  She has the same look on her face she always does before a race. Total focus, just like me. It’s what a runner needs that split second before the race begins. You have to block out everything except your goal to cross the finish line first. In a 100-meter sprint, there’s no room for error.

  All eight runners are poised for takeoff. I can almost taste the tension. Our track coach raises his arm in the air. The other coaches are watching too.

  “Runners, take your marks!”

  There’s the slightest shift along the starting line. Each grade-nine girl settles into a perfect four-point takeoff stance.

  “Set!”

  The muscles in my legs are like an elastic band about to snap.

  Bang!

  The elastic snaps, and everything is blank except my goal. I launch straight ahead, staying between the two lines that mark my lane. The only sounds are is cleats hitting the track’s gritty surface. Kat and I are neck and neck. I don’t care about anyone else, because we’re slightly ahead of everyone. A little over twelve seconds later, Kat and I cross the finish line, practically shoulder to shoulder. Coach Reeves grins and shakes his head.

  “What is it with you two anyway?” he calls out.

  Kat and I are grinning too. We high-five each other, as we do at the end of every race. Not only is Kat my biggest rival, she’s also my best friend. Last year she was faster than me. This year, after a lot of practice, I’ve finally caught up to her. For every race she wins, I win the next one. Today I won.

  These early-season track practices help our coach select the fastest runners at the bantam, junior, intermediate and senior grade levels. Our bantam relay team will be made up of the four fastest grade-nine sprinters. The fastest will represent the team in the 100-meter sprint at upcoming meets. But who that will be has yet to be decided.

  Some of the other kids on the track-and-field team wander over and pat us on the back. A couple of our closest friends smile from the sidelines. Isabel and Paige graduated from Wentworth Middle School with us last year. Back in middle school, we were all on the same track team. But this year, in ninth grade at Eastwood, everything has changed.

  At the end of last year’s track season, our coach warned us this would happen. He said that in high school, the rules of the game change and the competition is fierce. We should expect a whole new crop of athletes to compete against for spots on the team. Eastwood has a couple of different feeder schools. The track-and-field stars from those schools all want a spot on the team. Our middle school coach knew exactly what he was talking about. So many kids who were fast last year didn’t even make the cut this year.

  In high school there’s more competition and not just on sports teams. Over the past few months, while trying to adjust to all the new competition on the track, some of our friends have drifted off to chill with other kids. Which works for me, but not so much for some of my other friends. Nothing wrong with too many friends, is what I think. But a group of us from middle school still hangs out. There’s nothing like old friends.

  “Come on,” Zenia says as she strolls up to me and Kat, still trying to catch her breath. “What are you guys putting on your Wheaties in the morning anyway?”

  “I don’t even eat Wheaties for breakfast,” I say. “In fact, I’ve never even tasted them! I’m just lucky, I guess. Must be these long toothpick legs.”

  “Yeah, right.” Zenia laughs. “I know how hard you and Kat work. It’s more than luck. You two were the fastest last year too.”

  “Best friends, best runners,” Kat says. “How cool is that!”

  Everyone on the track-and-field team, the other coaches included, is caught up in the drama. They gather along the track whenever our coach races the grade-nine girls. And at the end of each race, everyone cracks up.

  Even the girls we just beat can’t help but smile. They know Kat and I will train until it kills us in order to reach the top of our game. A lot of the time, our races are almost too close to call. So we always break even. How can Coach possibly choose the top runner with those crazy odds?

  Only one girl, Shauna, never cracks a smile. At the end of each race, she only ever scowls. Every day this week, she has come in third. Her bright green eyes flash disappointment. Her fair freckled skin, which practically pleads for sunscreen, has a fine sheen of sweat, even though it’s not that warm for May. She wants to win badly. She reminds me of the Canadian Olympic speed skater Clara Hughes. I’m sure Clara is way nicer than this girl though!

  Shauna doesn’t bother talking to any of us. She just flips her thick golden-red ponytail, which she always wears with a baseball cap, and stalks off as if she’s mad at the world. What is her problem, I can’t help but think.

  chapter two

  Kat sidles up beside me. “Talk about a sore loser,” she says and runs her fingers through her wavy black hair.

  “The way things are going, Shauna will be one of the top four,” I remind her. “If she makes i
t, then we’ll all be on the same relay team together. With the vibes she’s giving everyone, I don’t see how that can possibly work.”

  “If she was as fast as her brother, our relay team would be awesome,” Kat says.

  Shauna’s brother Justin is rocket-fast. He’s the star runner on the grade-ten team and an amazing sprinter. He leaves everyone else in his dust. He’s one of the fastest guys in the whole school, in fact. There’s talk that he’s already being scouted by American colleges. His family must be so proud. I know more than a few guys on the team who wish they could be him.

  My brother Matt is on the track-and-field team too. But shot put is his sport, as well as football in the fall. He and I are almost about the same height. At five foot ten, I guess he’s pretty average for a guy. I know I’m tall for a girl. I’m kind of long and lanky, while my brother is built like a bull. And, boy, can he ever fling a shot put. He’s so focused when he’s on the field. But lately I worry about what he’s up to when he’s not on the field or at home. He’s been acting sketchy the last few months.

  Coach Reeves wanders over to where Kat and I and the others are standing. He looks confused and shakes his head.

  “What am I going to do with you two? Something has to change at some point. You can’t both represent the team in the hundred meter. Who is it going to be? Kat or Maddy?”

  Kat shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to try again on Monday, huh, Coach?”

  “Yep,” I say. “Another day, another race. Or ten.”

  There’s a smirk on Coach Reeves’s face. “I get the impression you two are enjoying this.” Then he shrugs. “We’ll give it another try on Monday. Same time, same place. And don’t wear yourselves out practicing this weekend, okay?” He wanders toward the school, still shaking his head.

  “So how long are you going to keep messing with his head?” Isabel asks.

  “We’re not messing with his head,” I say. “We never know who will win either.”

  “It’s just not the same anymore, is it?” Paige says, her face glum. “There’s so much talent here to compete with. Most of us are out of our league on the track now.”

  “Yeah,” Zenia says. “We can’t keep up to you two anymore. And Shauna’s fast too. Which makes it even worse.”

  “But at least we’re all still on a track-and-field team together this year, right?” I say.

  “God, how can you always be so positive about everything?” Isabel asks.

  “Really,” Kat adds. “You’re just one bright ray of sunlight today, aren’t you, Maddy?”

  “Hey, we all have our strengths,” I say. “We all shine at something.”

  “Oh barf !” Paige makes a gagging sound. “Little Miss Sunshine is in the house,” she says, and everyone laughs.

  As we all wander back into the school to grab our stuff before heading for home, some of the guys catch up with us. Zack and Nathaniel can’t stop talking about how Kat and I keep coming up with the same number of winning races. They went to Wentworth with us, and we’re still a tightknit group.

  Except for our friend Carter. He hangs out with a crowd of older kids now. It’s as if he’s trying for a fresh start with his cool new friends in high school. Fresh doesn’t mean good though. He seems to get into trouble a lot for being a goof and mouthing off. Some of the guys from last year have even tried to talk to him about it. He just laughs in their faces and calls them niner geeks. And he’s in grade nine! It’s pointless.

  I take one last glance at the field before heading inside. My brother Matt hasn’t shown up. He’s been so distant lately. Maybe he has too much on his mind. I can hardly even look at his shot put coach, Ms. Chapman. I wish I could figure out what Matt’s problem is. But it’s hard when he does his best to avoid talking about anything with me.

  I can still hear Paige’s Little Miss Sunshine comment. Oh, if my friends only knew about the dark little storm cloud hanging over my home life.

  chapter three

  As soon as I step through the front door when I get home that afternoon, I head for the kitchen. “Hey, Abuelo! Something smells so good! What are you making for dinner?”

  My grandfather stands at the stove, stirring something in a pot. It smells like heaven, and I know it will taste that way too. I lean in to peck him on his rough brown cheek. It’s something I started to do after he moved in with us. And now it has become as much of a habit as brushing my teeth.

  Abuelo moved into our cozy little bungalow when he retired from his job as a school custodian a few years ago. My abuela, my grandmother, passed away three years ago. Around the same time as my dad left. Abuelo built his own room in the basement as soon as he moved in. He’s great at stuff like that.

  We don’t talk about those tough times. Abuelo has worked hard at getting over losing the love of his life. And my mom has worked just as hard to move on after losing our dad. For some reason, my dad wanted to go live down in Florida. Mom didn’t want to, so he went by himself. Things hadn’t been great between them, and it was almost a relief when the constant arguing stopped.

  It made sense for Abuelo and Mom to pool their resources. And I think they’re both happier helping each other. Our mom works in a day care center and cooks a lot of the meals there. So Abuelo has taken over the cooking at home.

  “Is Matt home yet?” I ask, and Abuelo shakes his head.

  “No, he had track practice, Madina. Didn’t you see him there?”

  “Oh yeah.” I try to laugh, but it almost makes me choke.

  “And how was track practice anyway?” Abuelo asks. “Did you win today?” His dark eyes are bright. He loves that my brother and I are part of the track-and-field team.

  “Yes, I won, Abuelo. But we’re still not certain who’ll run the hundred meter yet. Kat and I are both top runners though. So we’ll be on the bantam relay team for sure.”

  That makes my grandfather smile. He is so supportive. He comes to our meets sometimes, sits in the stands and cheers Matt and me on. He even pays for our cell phone accounts, probably so he knows that he and Mom can always get in touch with us. Which is why it bugs me that my brother is not being where he’s supposed to be. It’s as if he’s putting one over on our grandfather.

  Matt blows in the front door and drops his backpack. He’s breathless, as if he ran all the way home.

  “I’m starved!” Those are the first words out of his mouth. “What’s cookin’, Abuelo?”

  “Cabbage and chorizo,” Abuelo says, smiling.

  “Again?” Matt groans. “Forget it. I’m kind of in a hurry anyway. I’ll just go pick up some pizza slices or something, okay?”

  “But I thought you liked my cooking, Mateo,” Abuelo says.

  “Yeah, but you gotta try something new once in a while, Abuelo,” Matt says, then slips down the hall to his room and shuts the door.

  “Why does he wear his pants like that?” Abuelo asks. “All hanging down like he doesn’t care how he looks.”

  I do my best to reassure him. “It’s the style now. Don’t worry about it. They’re just pants.” I give him another peck on his whiskery cheek before heading toward my own room. I stop in front of Matt’s door and knock.

  “What?” His voice is muffled and cranky.

  “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “About what?”

  He is so frustrating these days. “Unlock your door and you’ll find out, okay?”

  The latch clicks and the door opens a crack.

  “Why are you being such a jerk to Abuelo?” I ask. “And why did you miss practice today anyway?”

  “Bite me, Maddy,” Matt says and shuts the door in my face.

  I can never get a straight answer from my brother anymore. Never ever.

  He never sticks around for long on a Friday evening. So I’m not surprised when he dashes out of the house, tossing a quick goodbye over his shoulder. Not long after, our mom comes in with a couple of bags of groceries.

  “Where’s your brother?” she asks and looks around, as
if he might be hiding somewhere.

  “He told us he was going out with friends for pizza,” I say, trying not to meet her eyes.

  “Oh, that Mateo loves his pizza,” Mom says, flopping into a chair and kicking off her shoes. He’s such a busy guy, isn’t he? He’s hardly ever home now. How did track go today?”

  “It went great, Mom,” I say. “Kat and I still have the same problem. We always seem to break even. I win one, and then she does. If nothing changes, then Coach will have to decide for us.”

  “Oh, you’ll see, Maddy. Something will change one of these days. It always does,” Mom says. “I’d better go grab some dinner before Abuelo puts everything away.”

  She wanders out to the kitchen with her grocery bags. I can hear her chattering away in Spanish to my grandfather. But I’m not really listening, because I’m actually wondering if my mom could be right.

  And if something really does change, will it be for good or bad?

  chapter four

  Ever since the snow melted and the nicer weather began after March break, Kat and I have had the same Saturday-morning routine. We meet at the school track to practice. Some of our friends head over there too. It’s a good place to chill, have a few laughs and get a workout.

  We have it set up with the high school, as well as with the custodian staff. They’re on hand to supervise the various clubs that need to use the school on the weekend. The drama club has weekend rehearsals for the May show, along with a glee club. And community basketball teams often use the gym for tournaments.

  I make a note of who has shown up at the track. It’s all the usual suspects. Keener members of the track-and-field team who feel guilty if they don’t practice on the weekend. Some are kids I met when I joined the team this year. Then there are the old faces. My fellow Wentworth teammates from last year. Some of the grade-nine kids blend in easily with everyone. And then there are others who circle each other like nervous dogs sniffing out their rivals.

  Zenia and some other high jumpers have already dragged out their equipment. She has to share her time between the track and the field now. But I know her heart is still mostly on the track. Our old teammates, Paige and Isabel, are trying to outjump each other at the long-jump pit with some of the guys.