Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

Griffin adds, “I’ll make sure she does it, Coach.”
Coach Lenny gives me a questioning look. I smile—knowing he
wants to know if I’ll be okay with Griffin. Then, stopwatch and
clipboard in hand, he heads back up to the school, calling over his
shoulder, “We’re still practicing at eight A.M.”
“I wouldn’t dream of sleeping in.”
I still can’t believe it—a whole three minutes. With that time, I
could win any race in the world.
“So, the training paid off,” Griffin says.
“Yeah,” I say. “I can’t believe it.”
We fall into a silence, even though I’m humming with enough
energy to power the school for a month.
“What do you usually do for cooldown?”
“Oh,” I say, having totally forgotten my promise. “I walk eight
laps.”
I’m not eager to leave Griffin—I really want to know why he
showed up at my practice on a Saturday morning—but I can’t let
Coach Lenny or myself down. I’m just about to tell him I have to go
when he says, “I’ll walk with you.”
“Great.”
We walk to the stadium in silence, the question of why he’s here
is killing me. I restrain myself. I wasn’t the one who didn’t speak for
over a week for no reason.
It’s definitely up to him to explain himself.
As we emerge from the tunnel, he asks, “So, are you ready for the
race on Friday?”
“I think so.”
“Good.”
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