The following is a short story about an introverted, bookophile who is asked to fill in for her friend on the running team.
Abby sat in the shade of a big oak tree, reading a book of old poetry from the library. It was recess time for her fifth-grade class, and everyone was busy with their games; everyone, that is, except for Abby, who loved reading more than anything else, unless you counted writing and walking, which she did whenever she wasn't reading, sleeping, or in school. Given such habits she often found herself alone, but really Abby rarely felt lonely with her mind and her books for company. Such things made more sense than people, and that was good enough for Abby.
Across the soccer pitch, the fifth-grade running team was jogging as a group. Their leader, Margaret, was speaking loudly, and she wasn't happy.
"...and Jutta said her doctor wants her on crutches for a month, but without her we can't enter the County Championship." She sighed with frustration. "Besides," she began again, "the County race is a 10k, and Jutta's the our only runner besides me who can run the whole distance."
"All we need is someone to fill her spot for the race," said Sara, a short girl with blonde hair.
"But will Mr. Roskilde mind that?" asked Margaret. "A slow seventh runner could ruin our team score."
"I don't think we have a choice," said Franz, a heavy-set boy with glasses. "We can't compete with only six. Seems to me it's either a low team score or no team score." He chuckled at his own joke.
"That's really stupid, Franz," said Margaret, "we want a low team score."
Suddenly, Margaret stopped, followed by the rest of the team. "So we need a seventh runner," said Margaret to herself, looking around the recess yard, "but who?"
Just then, she spotted Abby under the oak tree. "Aha!" exclaimed Margaret, causing her team-mates to jump, "I think I found someone."
She sprinted across the soccer pitch, her team in hot pursuit. Abby didn't even notice them until Margaret spoke.
"Hey, you!" called Margaret as she approached, "With the book! Hey, we want to talk to you!"
Abby looked up from her book, surprised to see six people she hardly knew barreling across the pitch toward her. "Oh, hello Margaret," she said, knowing Margaret through her friend Jutta, "how are you?"
"We're fine," said Margret hastily. "Your name is Abby, right?"
"It is," said Abby. "Though sometimes I'm called Abigail," she said with a smile.
Margaret hardly noticed. "Listen, Abby," she said, "Jutta twisted her ankle and can't run for a month. But we need seven runners to compete in the County Championship. Would you take her spot on the team just for the race?"
"Oh dear," said Abby, "that is terrible news about Jutta. She's a really great dancer. I should go and make her a card."
She closed her book and began to walk away.
"Hey, wait a minute," called Margaret, "what about the race? We can't run unless we have seven people."
"Oh, right, that," stuttered Abby. "I don't know Margaret, I'm not really a runner."
"Well that's not a problem," said Margaret confidently. "We have three weeks until the big race; plenty of time to get ready. And besides, you have the right sort of build for running anyway."
"I do?" asked Abby.
"Of course!" said Margaret. "You're on the short side, but you have long legs for your size, and a lean frame too, like a plucked-chicken."
"I do not look like a plucked-chicken!" said Abby indignantly.
"Okay, so you don't really," said Maragret, "that was just an expression used by Arthur Diliard."
"Who?" asked Abby.
"Arthur Diliard." said Margaret. "He was a famous running coach from the islands. He trained three boys from his neighborhood to become world famous. Two of them even became champions."
"Sounds impressive," said Abby.
"Very, "said Margaret. "We've tried to copy Diliard's system for our own training, but Mr. Roskilde is always shortening our runs and making us take days off. It can be really frustrating, but I've made it up to 25 miles-per-week."
"That sounds far," said Abby nervously.
"It can be, but Diliard says 100 miles-per-week is necessary if you want to become a champion."
"Oh dear," said Abby, wondering if she had run a 100 miles in her entire life.
"But don't worry," said Margaret in a hurry, "Mr. Roskilde doesn't let us run that far. So, are you in?"
Abby looked at Margaret, then at the rest of the team. She didn't know any of them particularly well, but their faces were more encouraging than intimidating. Yet still Abby hesitated. She had never run more than a mile at a time, and competitive running sounded really difficult. But if she didn't run, then they would not be allowed to compete. Poor Jutta would be very upset, and think it was all her fault. No thought Abby, that won't do."
"Okay," said Abby, "I'll do it."
"Great!" said Margaret as the rest of the team cheered. "You can come to our next practice. It's tomorrow after school. See you then."
"Sounds good," said Abby apprehensively.
The bell signalling the end of recess sounded just then, and everyone headed back inside for class. Abby made the short walk to the door slowly, wondering into what it was she had so recently gotten herself.
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