Free Beasts and BFFs by Shannon Delany

 
    “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I grumbled as I bent to double knot my sneakers. A leaf whisked by, skittering along the sidewalk by my feet before it chattered and took flight, red against a graying sky. Fall had arrived too soon in Junction. I zipped my jacket up against the prodding of the occasional breeze.
    Amy laughed. “It’s not like I’m making you really run. Just a jog, Jessie. I’m totally going easy on you.”
    “Besides, you’re in good shape, Jessica. A jog should be no trouble,” Sarah said as she joined us.
    The look Amy gave me was unmistakable.
    The look she gave Sarah was one that didn’t miss a stitch of her immaculate pink outfit. If Gucci made sweatsuits their brand would have been boldly stitched across Sarah’s boobs and butt. Money might as well have been Sarah Luxom’s middle name.
    “A jog should be no trouble,” Amy repeated, slicing each word away from the others so they hung in the air alone.
    Amy hated Sarah. Hated her. And firmly believed I should too. And I’d invited her along. I shrugged. Well, it wasn’t like Sarah had anyone else to hang out with now. Maybe Amy could learn some compassion when it came to her. Or even just tolerance.            
    Yeah. I’d settle for tolerance.
    Amy cleared her throat. Or growled. I wasn’t quite sure which.
    “I guess we’re all here.” I fought to keep my nerves from pulling my lips into an unnatural grin. And failed.
    “Yee-aaah.” Amy shook her head and tugged her flashing copper hair into an impromptu ponytail.
    Sarah did the same, sweeping back strands of blonde that varied from platinum to honey and somehow found sunlight no matter where she stood.
    Between them I was utterly unremarkable as I put a rubber band in my own brown hair. Not chestnut-colored, not sienna, not chocolate. Just brown.
    “Amy,” Sarah greeted. Her tone mirrored Amy’s stony expression. Both were equally unimpressed by the other’s company.
    Excellent. This was bound to be about as much fun as shin splints.
    “So.” I slapped my hands together. “Let’s jog!”
    “Did you stretch?” Amy asked.
    “I tied my sneakers.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go.” The pace she set as we headed out told me two things: first, Amy was thrilled to go just fast enough to keep Sarah firmly behind us. And second? She was evidently willing to kill me in the process.
    We ran beside the river, marking our progress by the stations of the recently added fitness trail. Mulch cushioned our rhythmic footsteps, the occasional crunch of an already dried leaf crisply accenting the sound of my own breath in my ears.
    We started up a small incline, turning toward the new park’s wilder center and I felt the tingle and pinch in my legs shift as I engaged another set of muscles.
    I totally understood why Amy would choose a place like this to run. A sort of solitude soaked in even when you weren’t alone. Your mind could wander. You could think about anything—imagine the future, concentrate on the present or…
    …examine the past.
    If you dared.
    I swallowed, deciding my time was best spent remembering to breathe. The slope grew steeper and the air rasped in my throat as I pushed to match Amy’s stride. We entered the most thickly wooded part of the park and the moody sunlight was squeezed from the sky by the heavy entwining of branches. Vines crawled along the foot of the path and climbed, knotting together berry canes and wild rose bushes, making a nearly impenetrable net of vegetation on either side of the trail. Birdsong trilled around us, bouncing over our heads as wings flickered in the dappled sunlight and spotty shadows.
    Amy had started talking and I struggled to balance my focus between paying attention to whatever Amy was saying and not dying on the uphill.
    “…so she’s moving in. Can you believe it?”
    So much for quiet time and introspection.
    “What?” Sarah asked behind us. “Who’s moving in?”
    Amy