Number Three
Number Three
By Evan Donovan
Hazen Union High School, Grade 10
The boy can’t feel his legs anymore. He feels drops of sweat growing on his eyebrows. Rain pounding down against his body, making him cold, wet, and numb. The rain comes hard and fast, leaving little time in between the spurts to get warmth back into his limbs. The wind pushes against him as he moves through the sheets and sheets of rain.
His feet sink in the mud every time he pounds his foot down. He feels his socks, soaked with rain and sweat, clinging to his feet. His shoes get heavier and heavier as he keeps his legs moving. Suddenly, he can feel his legs: the burning of his thighs, the sting of the rain, and the cramping of his entire right leg. He tenses, not sure what to do. He begins to panic. He feels as though he can’t move his leg. It seems dead.
He tries to push on and, slowly, the leg loosens up. However, it is already too late. He sees the other two, as if in slow motion, passing him. Then, his left foot splashes into four inches of freezing cold rainwater, and he is jerked back into reality.
He is right on the tail of the second kid who passed him. Then, all three of them burst out of the woods into all the noise and clamor of the crowd. He hears all the shouts of, “GO!!” and “Catch him! Come on, just one last hill and it’s over. Catch him!” The boy blocks it all out. He has to focus on the cadence of his feet and the ground and the feet of the kid in front of him.
He can see the hill. He knows that he has to beat these kids up the hill or he will never win. He knows he can do it. His heart is pounding; he can feel his pulse in his head. He pushes up the hill, his legs burning, but he makes it up the hill, passing both of the other kids.
He is nearly there. 100 meters… 90 meters… 80 meters… 50 meters… 20 meters… 10 meters… Then, suddenly, he feels his foot catch in the mud, and in slow motion he feels his foot jerk to a stop. He crashes to the ground, landing on the wet grass, sliding to a stop less than a foot from the finish line. As he lies there, sprawled across the ground, he knows he is only going to be number three.