Free Not Pretty Enough by Jaimie Admans

somewhat distastefully. “Make sure you do some stretches
first to warm up.”
    “Thanks, I will.”
    He gives me another look that
makes me think I must have ‘non-athletic’ stamped on my forehead or something.
    But, on the bright side, that
turned out exactly as I wanted it to, because Lloyd is in the second group of
runners too. I know because I checked his name this morning, just so I knew
when to run to the cafeteria for a flapjack and when to stay on the field. I am
going to be racing Lloyd Layton. And somehow I have to beat him.
    Oh.
    That might not be so easy.
    Well, maybe he’ll consider that
it’s the taking part that counts and not the winning.
    Maybe if I could even come
second or something, because he sounded quite impressed that Darren had nearly
pipped him to the post.
    I flop back down on the grass
next to Debs.
    “Chessie,” she says. “I think I
know what you just did, but maybe you could confirm the insanity for me?”
    “I just signed up for the four
hundred metre race.”
    “I hate to ask, but what on
earth would possess you to do something like that?”
    “You heard what Lloyd just said.
He’ll be really impressed with whoever wins this race. It’s my chance to show
him that I’m good enough for him.”
    “Chessie, you’re more than good
enough for him anyway.”
    “Thanks,” I say. “But I’m
obviously not, am I? Because he hasn’t looked twice at me all year. I need to
show him that I’m his type of girl.”
    “How do you know what his type
is? He doesn’t seem interested in anyone in particular, it’s not just you.”
    I suppose that is one thing I
should be grateful for. I’d be devastated if Lloyd started going out with
someone else. I guess I should just be thankful that he hasn’t yet.
    “That means I have to move
quickly. I have to make him like me before he starts liking someone else.”
    “That’s insane.”
    “No, it’s not.”
    “Chessie, the reason he’s not
into you or anyone else is because he’s like all the other boys our age, he’s
into cars, sports, and college girls. We’re too immature for these boys, and
they’re too immature for us.”
    “Lloyd’s different. Besides,
Ewan would’ve said if he had an older girlfriend.”
    “Pfft.”
    “Anyway, Mr Hursh said I need to
warm up or something, any idea how I do that?”
    “You really are insane. You’re
going to kill yourself, you know that, don’t you? You get out of breath running
for the bus.”
    “I do not,” I start to protest
then realise that she’s actually right. “Well, maybe a little. But I can run. I
just have to do it for a bit longer than usual.”
    “You have to do it for four hundred metres .”
    “If I’d have thought of it
before I’d have tried the two hundred, but sign-ups are closed now. Besides,
Lloyd is only going to care about the four hundred. He’s already won the two.
Anyone can do it.”
    “I couldn’t.”
    “Look, even that little kid from
9A is doing it, and he looks like he hasn’t seen the sunlight in two years.”
    Debs laughs. “So, what warm ups
do you have to do? Stretches and stuff?”
    I shrug. “I guess so. Do you
know how to do any?”
    “I think you just, like, stand
with your legs apart and, um, push down on one knee and then the other.”
    I try to remember how I’ve seen
athletes warming up on TV in the past. What do people running the London
Marathon do? Apart from a lot of training, obviously.
    It’s not my fault I don’t have
time for training. If Lloyd had said what he said about three months ago then I
could’ve gone for a jog every day and have been in good shape by now. It’s not
my fault he leaves it until half an hour before the race begins to tell me that
if I win he’ll love me for life. Well, maybe not those exact words. But still.
    And there’s no point in starting
training now, because I’ll wear myself out before the race.
    Nothing else I’ve attempted in
the quest to get him to notice me has worked; why not