The Mile By
Justin Mirsky
Prologue:
It was quite hot out, perhaps one of the hottest days Oceanside had experienced all year, and for Justin that meant he would have to run the track. Little Justin was not quite little, though, in fact, it would be safe to say he was fat. Logically, fat people do not like running the track and will do whatever it is they can to avoid running. Fortunately, Justin had a plan. He would time his running of one lap to finish with the group of fast people who would finish their second lap, thus making it seem like Justin actually ran two laps! It was impeccable. Nothing could break Justin's sentiment towards his plan - he was undoubtedly in love with it. Of course, Justin was naive to Mr. Janosko, the primitively gym teacher's love of running track. Janosko kept a close eye on Justin and saw that Justin had only ran one lap. He was caught. What would Justin do? What would Janosko do? When Justin came around, saying he had ran two laps Janosko lifted his fist in the air and shook it in Justin's general direction. "If you don't run two laps we're not going to play softball!!" bellowed the mighty gym teacher. Justin laughed. He did not care about softball, he continued the period walking leisurely around the track with his friends. The battle had been won, but unfortunately the war was only beginning.
Justin basked in his victory against the massive gym ogre, or rather teacher as he preferred to be called. It had been his first victory of the year against Mr. Janosko only two days ago when he had walked just one lap of the track, as opposed to two. Justin knew the next battle would be more difficult though, for Janosko was joined by his companion in crime, Mr. Natoli. Angelo Natoli was strange man - no, it wasn't because he was bald and energetic, but because of his random questioning and the enjoyment he found in breaking out into Beach Boy's songs. Together, Janosko and Natoli seemed unstoppable. Their combined effort would surely be enough to quell any fire Justin intended to start. Justin didn't think so though, he would have to use all the tactics his arsenal could deploy in order to surpass the duo.
The day was no different than any other. The sun shined on Oceanside
High School, oblivious to the genius it was about to witness. Justin's day
began like any other, he had his usual class, and sat through them impatiently
knowing that today was the day of The Mile. When the bell rang seventh period
Justin scampered off to Gym, making no use of the simple hallway manners he had
learned in his previous years, for all to go well he had to get there early, in
order to prep his fellow gym mates on his intentions.
Walking through the monstrous doors that protected the Gym, Justin could smell the stench of sweat. He was used to it though, for every day The Mile took place at school, one could smell that same stench through out the gym during all hours. The gym was empty, like planned. In the previous year, when trying to escape The Mile, Justin made one crucial mistake. He told no one of his intentions and was therefore "ratted out." He still remembers the grin the face of last year's rat. He haunted him. It had been because of him that Justin would have to run an additional mile that year, a torture beyond all belief. Justin refused to let this happen again.
Justin walked into the locker room and waited by the door. While he did not plan on telling everyone of his plan, he knew who he would tell - The Jocks. The Jocks were a group of either well built, charming males, or overgrown, forceful jackasses. It was really dependant upon your perspective, and while Justin normally saw them as the latter of the two, for his plan to work he had to keep the mindset that they were indeed pretty swell guys.
The door swung open, a breath of sweat hit him in the face. Jack had entered the locker room, right on time. Jack, who was not necessarily a friendly with Justin was the most level headed of The Jocks. Justin knew him to be studios and more concerned with the well being of his fellow Jocks than himself. While this attitude had seemingly placed Jack on the lower end of the athletic food chain, it was a niche someone had to fill and Jack was the right man for the job.
Justin approached Jack from behind; he had to make sure that he talked to Jack before he began changing into his gym shorts. It was a rule of unspoken etiquette in the locker room, "Thou shall not speaketh to the pant-lacking." Jack was reaching for his fly when he heard a voice.
"Jack!"
Justin was safe. He had caught Jacks attention and was now ready to set his plan into action. After dismissing the usually obligatory "Hey, what's up?" Justin got to his point.
"I'm not the most physically fit person, Jack, though I'm sure you've noticed that before."
Justin would have to use his pity to win over the help of Jack; he would also have to do as much ass kissing as possible.
"I'm going to be blunt," Justin hoped he wasn't using too big a word, "I don't like running the mile, and I need you to help me avoid the four laps."
Jacked looked intrigued, his eyebrows raised.
"Why are you comin' ta me? You want a piggy back or sumtin?"
"Not quite... but I do want to run with you."
"Ha ha ha, good luck keeping up with me."
"Oh, that won't be a problem." Justin smirked.
That was his plan. He would use the Jocks as a camouflage. Justin knew that he wouldn't have run with them the entire time - Only the fourth lap. He would employ his previous timing strategies to The Mile, by walking at his own pace until intercepted by The Jocks on their fourth lap, where he would begin running with them. His plan was bulletproof. Justin knew that the Jocks lacked attention span and within a minute or so of running they wouldn't notice his absence, they would be too concerned with finishing first. Justin had also provided himself safety from another rat, for if someone did notice a lack of sweat on under Justin's arms at the end of the class, Justin could easily have Jack explain to Janosko and Natoli that he ran with him. Jack was too dense to know whether or not Justin actually had tagged along, and would only have to assume he followed behind based on the conversation that had now been melodically interrupted.
“And she'll have fun fun fun, 'til her daddy takes the T-Bird away!!”
It was Mr. Natoli. His singing was recognizable instantly. Class was soon to begin.
By now, the locker room had filled up. Justin met with his friends and explained his plan in full detail. They were blown away, to think, someone was trying to pull off such a heist. They followed Justin outside to the Gymnasium, admiring his rebelliousness. He could feel only pride at his sat, waiting to have his name called by Natoli. How ironic that the man who was now keeping track of him would be in limbo of losing track of the same person in the very near future.
Attendance was taken; the class walked outside and there was no going back. Justin walked out side by side with Mr. Janosko. It was a duel of the giants. Janosko knew that Justin was going to try to avoid running The Mile – he was able to read in his eyes. Justin showed no signs of cracking though; he had a plan and was sticking to it. He could see no plausible way of being out smarted. He was an honors student, they were gym teachers – the level of intelligence differed significantly.
The class routinely lined up at starting line of the track four laps, that’s all it would take – at least, that’s all it would take for most people. Justin stood towards the end of the six running lanes. He went over to Jack and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Good luck.” Justin gave him thumbs up, hoping to refresh Jack’s memory of the conversation.
“Faggot.” Justin shrugged it off, after all, the name-calling was far outweighed by the magnitude of the favor Jack was unintentionally doing for Justin.
Sooner than later, the high-pitched whistle rang and they were off like horses at a racetrack. The group started off as an amorphous shape, slowly drifting farther and farther apart until it was more than apparent that some people were faster than others.
Jack was towards the end of the pack of jocks. He seemed intent on running. Faster. Faster. Faster. That was all he could think – surroundings, friends, classmates, Justin – they were all a blur to him. Meanwhile, on the other side of the track, Justin casually jogged along, telling jokes with his friends, oblivious to the eyes that had been following him since the start.
Randy Quaid was the student who had tattled on Justin while trying to escape the mile last year. Randy, or Quaid as most people called him was widely known around the school, no, he wasn’t popular, but rather when you heard his name brought up in a conversation it was only inevitable that you were about to here the story.
*****
Ninth grade is without a doubt a scary place. Being such a small fish in such a large pond, it is only natural to want to grow, and Quaid went about the wrong path of doing so. In a desperate attempt to be part of the “cool crowd” Quaid had put his fate in the hands of a dare. Under the impression that everyone would appreciate him, he was sent on a mission. He was asked to pull a prank.
The prank was simple enough. He would have to come to school at night and spray paint a message on one of the walls. Quaid quickly accepted the idea, and promised to everyone that the next day they would see a message on the side of the school, they in return promised to keep his identity secret. There was a catch though, Quaid was not allowed to write whatever he wanted – he would have to write a message voted upon by his soon to be friends. That message was the enigmatic, “diauQR.”
The next day when students arrived at school they saw just that written in big pink bubble letters across the side of the school. “diauQR” None of them new what it meant, it was seemingly a jump of letters written by a delinquent who decided to pull a prank. Quaid’s plan was foiled though when his new friends brought the principal to realize that “diauQR” was actually “RQuaid” written backwards. Shortly after, Randy was called down to the principal’s office for a meeting.
For the next two weeks Randy was not seen in school. No one had been in contact with him, for no one had noticed his absence. Most people now assume he was suspended, but it’s still a mystery how the school was able to link him to the crime, only having the evidence of his name on the wall, which could have been done intentionally to frame him. It was rumored that Quaid broke down in the office, and admit to the crime, while others say that it will remain a mystery forever. To this day though, his intentions have been clear – where this is trouble, he will be there to sniff it out.
*****
On this particular day, Quaid was prepared to bring down anyone who would try to escape the mile. Quaid himself was not the most physically fit person and if he had to run it, so would everyone.
Quaid remembered quite clearly last year when he had caught Justin. He remembered Justin’s glee being shattered in one simple second. He remembered the joy he had gotten in it as well, it was apparent that Quaid was a now a cruel person.
Justin was the first person Quaid had spotted. Unsurprised, Quaid had expected Justin to attempt to pull the same shenanigan this year as he did last, and looked forward to once again watching Justin suffer through the pain inducing punishment of having to run the mile again while everyone else was playing softball. Silently running from behind, Quaid kept his eye on Justin, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Two. Two was now the magic number. Justin had just finished his second lap and would now walk around the track, waiting for The Jocks to pass by in order to finish his “fourth.” During the five minutes and twenty-three seconds it had taken to run the first two laps Justin experienced two brief encounters with the gym teacher. They both acted nonchalant, as if nothing was going on between them, but Justin knew well that they were waiting for him come run around the last curve one last time. It was an essential victory lap and trap at the same time. Justin had taken all precaution possible in order to avoid the trap and the rest of The Mile was now a test of wits.
Now walking the track alone, Justin had lost track of his friends, they had ran ahead, not taking the chance of venturing the three lap mile with Justin. The only thing Justin had as company now was his deepening shadow and the approaching panting of Randy Quaid.
Justin hadn’t spoken since the incident. He didn’t like to talk about it. He was ashamed, embarrassed, mortified. He couldn’t live with seeing the face of his prosecutor. To him there was no one worse than Randy Quaid. Justin could tolerate The Jocks, he put up with the Valley Girls, and let the Goth kids be Goth, but if there was one thing that peeved him most it was a snitch.
“’Ey! Justin!”
Justin grimaced. Not again, he thought to himself as a feeling of agony slowly set in.
“Hi Quaid.”
Justin knew he had to be as friendly as possible, there was still a chance that Quaid hadn’t picked up on what was happening.
“Two more laps to go, huh?”
“Nope, this is my last.”
“Liar.”
He knew. The bastard was watching all along. Justin had left Quaid of his radar of worries because he had previously been alerted that Quaid was going to be a trip on the day they were running.
“Don’t you have a trip to be on?” said Justin, now sternly eyeing Quaid.
“They were going to a museum, do you really think I would go to a museum?”
He had a point; Quaid was the last person you would expect to see at a museum. It was at about this time that Justin wanted to beat himself up; he should have seen this coming. But no, he didn’t; instead, he was now collapsing under the weight of his own demise. He wanted to give up; he was ready to run the fourth lap.
It was then the pitter-patter of footsteps could be heard in the distance. Turning back, both Quaid and Justin saw the stampede. It was The Jocks; they were completing The Mile and approaching as fast as ever. Adrenaline was rushing and Justin needed to think quickly. He questioned whether he should join the cattle and rush in, claiming a fourth lap, with hopefully Jack’s word to fall back on, or should he run The Mile in it’s entirety?
The sound grew louder and soon the acne on each distinctive face could be seen with the naked eye. They came - he was off. Justin had lunged his body into the crowd of speedsters, risking the health of his feet along the way. To turn back was to be terminated.
In one direction, Justin was barely able to make out Quaid’s beady eyes. In the short time they had been running, the distance had been enough to significantly make the size of Quaid seem smaller. Looking in the other direction though, Justin saw his finish. Mr. Janosko was standing at the side of the track with his arm held out; a stop watched gripped tightly within his fist. On the other side of the track, an energetic Mr. Natoli, ready to give us all high-fives, his strange way of congratulating us on a job well done.
Fifty feet now separated Justin from the end. Forty. Thirty. Twenty. Ten. Janosko looked at him, Zero. Justin skidded to a halt.
“Seven minutes and fifty-six seconds, good time men.”
Justin stumbled to the shade, sitting against a tree trunk. He took a few much-needed minutes to catch his breath.
“All seems to be going well for now.” Justin said, panting. “ Now I just have to wait for Quaid…”
As it turns out though, Justin wouldn’t have to wait for Quaid. Leaning against the tree to relax, Justin had closed his eyes and when he reopened them not a moment later he was now hidden in the shadow of his gym teacher.
Mr. Janosko stood at a prominent 6’6” He was the football coach of the school for the past five years, and had undoubtedly played the sport in his youth. He stood over Justin similar to the way a tsunami’s shadow covers the beach when it’s about to destruct.
“Son, you only ran three laps.”
“…No, I ran four.”
“That’s not what he says.”
From behind Mr. Janosko appears Quaid, grinning like a little boy in a candy store.
“This is definitely him, Sir.” Said an unusually meek Quaid.
“I would appreciate it if you were honest with me, boy.”
Justin cringed at the nicknames Janosko had given him.
“Why would I lie about the laps I ran?”
“You’ve got no effort.”
“But what if I can get proof?” Justin smiled at Quaid.
“Then I’ll lay off your back.”
Now all Justin had to do was locate Jack – and pray that he was under the impression that Justin was there with him the entire time.
Browsing through the crowd of students was almost as fun as looking for a needle in a haystack. Eventually, Janosko located Jack and pulled him aside with Justin.
“Hey Jack.”
“Now what’d you want?”
“Can you tell Mr. Janosko that I ran with you?”
It was the moment of truth. A single bead of sweat melted down Justin’s face.. Jacks eyebrows rose, and then depressed again.
“Yeah, you did.”
He was safe – He had beaten the system. He had beaten Quaid and most importantly he had beaten the gym teachers. In the locker room tales of victory were shared with classmates. There were those who were impressed, those who didn’t believe, and those who didn’t know, at fear of them spoiling the praise of a hero. Justin himself was shocked at his luck. He smiled quietly, picked up his book bag and went to his class. He couldn’t help but think that his name would go down in legend.
Epilogue
It had been two weeks since Justin completed the three-lap mile. For the few days following the feat people through out the school would randomly congratulate Justin. He hoped that his story was one that could inspire, and live on in the school forever, but he felt he still had some unfinished business. In gym class a few days later Justin stopped Jack in the locker room.
“Jack, thanks for your help with Mr. Janosko the other day.”
“Huh?”
“You know, how you told him I ran with you?”
“What?”
“Don’t you remember that conversation we had in the locker room the other day? About me running with you?”
“Stop bothering me, fag.”
Justin smiled. Ah, sweet victory.