Moon Runner (5 page)

Mina deliberately walked on one of the white stripes — as though the straightness could guide her words. “I was wondering if you’d trade places with me. Run my fifty meter and let me run on the relay team.”

“Why?” Cassie asked.

“Because Ruth Largness is my good friend and I’d like to run with her.”

Cassie stared into the sky above the basketball hoops. “No, I can’t do it. My softball throw is happening at the same time as the individual fifty meter. Sorry.”

“Thanks anyway,” said Mina. She walked off the straight white line and onto the wide expanse of grass.

During library time right after lunch, Mina whispered to Liz behind the shelves of biographies.

Liz didn’t even ask why Mina wanted to change. She just said loudly, making no attempt to whisper: “The fifty meter is over with too quickly.” Liz snapped her fingers. “Just like that. Even though I won’t be running the whole time, the relay lasts four times as long. Just think, though — if you win the individual, you get all the glory.”

Mina knelt down to tie her shoes.

Mina caught up with Shawndra on the way to PE.

When Mina asked the favor, Shawndra shrugged. “Doesn’t make any difference to me.”

“Let’s tell Coach now, then,” said Mina. She didn’t want Shawndra to change her mind.

They waited until Coach Lombard had finished assigning his high-school helpers for the day. He fanned himself with his big hat as he talked.

When Coach turned to Mina and Shawndra, Mina was afraid he might have forgotten their lunchtime conversation.

“Shawndra’s trading with me. Remember we talked about that?” Mina shifted from one foot to the other.

Coach continued to fan himself. “Are you sure about this, Mina?”

“Yes, Coach Lombard.” She nodded in case he hadn’t heard her.

But as she was walking away, a new thought struck her. Maybe Ruth wouldn’t want her on the team. Maybe she’d been happy with the way things were. Maybe she planned to make Cassie, Liz, and Shawndra her new Fellow Friends.

At home, on her bed, Mina found another library book that Mom had left her. On the cover was a woman running. Mina picked the book up. Inside, there were a few photos and miles of tiny words.

At first her brain marched slowly over the words, but then it began to jog, and then to run as Mina grew interested in the story of Wilma Rudolph, who had overcome polio and wearing an ugly leg brace and teasing by other kids to become the world’s fastest woman runner.

As Mina read, all of her own problems seemed like such little stuff. Even losing a friendship was nothing compared with almost not being able to walk, much less run.

The next afternoon, the relay team had the first practice. The sun flooded the playground with a yellow, even heat. Flutters of hot air rose from the flagstones of the lunch patio.

Mina faced the girls with her hands in her pockets and announced: “Coach traded me with Shawndra.”

No one said a thing. Ruth began to fiddle with the rubber band on her ponytail.

Coach strode over from the long jump. “We don’t have a real track here, so we’ll have to pretend. Each of you will stand fifty meters apart around a big oval. I’ve marked your places.”

An orange cone stood behind Coach. Mina shaded her eyes with her hand and looked off at the other three cones. “Cassie,” Coach continued, “you’re the first runner and will start here. Then Liz.” He pointed to the cone near the basketball court. “Mina.”

Mina’s cone rested under the shade of the mesquite tree.

“And Ruth, you’re by the fence.”

When Coach handed Cassie the baton, Mina leaned over to check out the slim, metal stick.

“Now, Cassie, when I blow my whistle, you’re going to shoot off like a rocket and take that baton to Liz. Liz will buzz along and hand it to Mina. Mina will blast off to Ruth, the final runner.”

They practiced the race four times, circling the grass. Each time, Mina put the baton firmly in Ruth’s outstretched hand.

At the end, when Coach said, “The team’s time is very good,” Mina noticed that he smiled especially at her.

Ruth went to pick up something she’d hidden under her sweatshirt. It was the Friendship Ball. “Here.” She handled the ball as though it were a bundle of dirty laundry, handed it over to Mina while yelling to Cassie, “Hey, wait for me!”

Mina lay back into her pillow and ruffled the pages of
Seven Steps to Treasure.
Francesca had been kidnapped by the owner of the diamonds but had found her way out of the dark basement by following a string she’d cleverly dropped behind her as she went.

String.
Suddenly, Mina remembered the Friendship Ball.

She jumped up and rushed into the living room, where her backpack rested on the couch. No Friendship Ball.

She’d left it in the art room after the bell rang. She could see it clearly, sitting on the side counter.

What if the janitor threw it away? The ball looked kind of ratty.

Or what if another kid took it? Kids from all over the school were curious about the Friendship Ball and wanted to know what was so special about it. Some even joked that there was treasure hidden inside.

Mina looked at her watch: 8:02. The school building was closed.

She drank hot milk with cinnamon and counted bighorn sheep, but she couldn’t sleep.

She imagined the Friendship Ball rolling down the hallway and into the street. As it rolled, it came undone, the scraps of yarn flying off in the wind until it was nothing but the core of itself — a tiny knot of red yarn that untied and blew away.

Mina leaned up on her elbow and opened the window. The cool night air burst into the room.

How would the Fellow Friends feel if she’d lost the ball? They’d worked on it together all year, adding to it as their friendship grew. Even though she was the new Friend, they’d trusted her with the precious Friendship Ball. And now . . . Mina lay back down, pulled the blanket over her head, and nestled deep.

Mina banged on the doors of the school early the next morning. Someone had to be inside, because the lights were on in the southern wing.

Finally, Mr. Clark came, his ring of keys bouncing at his hip. “The before-school program isn’t open yet,” he announced, pushing the door open a crack.

“Please let me in for just a sec,” said Mina. “I left something important in the art room. It’s an emergency.”

Mr. Clark shrugged. “I’ll let you look up there. But then you’ll have to wait on the playground.”

She followed him up the stairs in the gloom of early dawn.

At the door to the art room, Mr. Clark paused while he sorted through the bunch of keys.

Mina tried to peek through the frosted glass.

The door opened, and right away, Mina saw that the counter was empty. Down on her hands and knees, she searched under the tables, opened the shelves, letting the doors clatter.
It has to be here. It has to be.
She searched each spot again.

Finally, she lifted both hands to Mr. Clark. “It’s not here.”

Mr. Clark grunted and motioned Mina toward the door.

During morning recess, Sammy found some ladybugs over by the fence. Crawling on hands and knees, he, Alana, and Ruth began to hunt them in the long grass.

Mina hung back. How could she confess to everyone that she’d lost the Friendship Ball?

“Look,” Ruth was saying, “I got this from the garbage can.” She held up a juice carton. “It can be a ladybug house.”

Mina walked five steps until she stood over them. “Friends,” she began.

Alana and Sammy looked up.

“Friends. I’ve done something awful.”

Sammy sat up and rocked back onto his heels.

Alana shaded her eyes with her hand.

Ruth pulled the long blades of the grass apart, still searching for ladybugs.

Mina took a big breath. “I lost the Friendship Ball.”

There was a silence, then Sammy said, “You’re kidding. Where?”

“If she knew, it wouldn’t be lost,” Alana said.

Ruth said nothing.

Sammy concentrated on a ladybug creeping across his freckled hand. “It’s okay, Mina. It was just stupid yarn.”

“Yeah,” said Alana.

Ruth yanked up a clump of grass. Dirt dangled from the roots. “Are you guys crazy? It wasn’t just the stupid yarn but all our friendship wound up in there.” She threw the grass in Mina’s direction. “You were never a real Fellow Friend if you weren’t careful of our ball and went and lost it.”

Mina stepped back. Ruth was so wrong. She
had
been careful. She’d worried all night and had gotten to school super early to search and search the art room. . . .

“That was mean, Ruth,” said Alana, jumping up. “Don’t cry, Mina. We’ll find the ball.”

Mina was standing in the lunch line when she heard: “Close your eyes and turn around.”

Sammy put something round into her arms.

Mina held the soft moon of the Friendship Ball close. “Oh!” was all she could say. She pressed her face against the yarn, smelling its mustiness, the scent of good memories wound into the roundness. Her whole body relaxed.

“Get out of line.” Sammy touched Mina’s forearm. “You don’t want cafeteria food. You can eat some of my lunch.”

“I promise never to lose it again,” she said as they crossed the lunch patio, heading toward the picnic tables. “Double promise. I swear.”

“I know you weren’t careless. Don’t worry.”

“Where did you find it?”

“During math, I passed a note offering a twenty-five-cent reward. A kid gave it to me as we were lining up for lunch.”

“That was so lucky, Sammy.”

They sat down and Sammy handed over half an egg salad sandwich.

Mina ate with the Friendship Ball on her lap, one arm curved around it. “Ruth is probably still going to be mad.”

“Probably.” Sammy opened a bottle of pink lemonade. He held it out to her.

Mina took a sip. “She’s mad about stuff other than the Friendship Ball.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of hard for her to be Athlete of the School and then maybe not be.”

“So you know about that? She told you?”

“Not told me. But it’s pretty obvious.”

Mina finished the sandwich and Sammy offered her a carrot stick.

“One of you’s gotta start solving things, though,” Sammy said. “Otherwise you and her won’t be friends. And if that happens, our group will bust up.”

“I’m supposed to go to her house tomorrow to practice our science presentation.”

“A perfect chance to talk.”

“But Sammy”— Mina handed back the pink lemonade —“I’m afraid to bring it up.”

“Pretend you’re in a race. Pretend that you can’t hang back but have to be strong and go forward.” Sammy drained the lemonade, then played with the clasp on his metal lunch box, clicking it open and shut.

“Okay. I’ll go, then. I’ll make myself.” Mina bit into the carrot.

So on Saturday morning, Mina went to Ruth’s house to practice the frog presentation.

It wasn’t Ruth’s turn to have the Friendship Ball, but Mina was taking no chances. She dropped it on the sofa, wondering if she’d ever see it again. Ruth might not want to pass the ball along anymore.

They set up the frog panel in Ruth’s living room. First Ruth read, but so softly that Mina could barely hear her. As Mina read, her words felt like chunks of cold oatmeal in her mouth. The images of frogs Ruth pointed at with the long stick were faded and lifeless, printed with the old school printer.

After they’d gone through the presentation, Ruth made a pitcher of lemonade from a can. They carried the pitcher, two glasses, and a bag of chips outside to the table under the black walnut tree.

As Mina sat down in the lawn chair, she wished it was still the day the Fellow Friends had welcomed her into the group.

Little brown birds hopped along the branches of the walnut tree. Did they ever get jealous or scared?

She wanted to hide from Ruth, covering her face with the glass of lemonade. Instead, she said, “Ruth, do you think . . .” She paused, not knowing how to put it. “Do you think the Fellow Friends group is falling apart?”

Ruth looked up from her glass. “Why do you ask that?”

Mina shrugged and forced herself to go on. “Well, you and Sammy play alone a lot now. And Alana and I do, too.”