Chapter 80 Race day

Chapter 80 Race day
Kayla’s POV

The morning felt heavier than it should. I woke up before my alarm, just staring at the ceiling for several minutes while my stomach made slow uneasy flips. My heart was beating in a soft but steady rhythm, like it already knew the day would demand more from me than just running.

My mother knocked lightly on my door but did not wait for permission before coming in. She sat on the edge of my bed and placed her hand on my ankle through the duvet.

“You are awake,” she observed.

“Yeah,” I replied, dragging in a breath.

She studied me for a few seconds. “You are nervous.”

“I am not nervous,” I lied.

She raised one brow. “Then why are you breathing like you just finished running two laps.”

I forced a short laugh. “Fine. Maybe I am a little nervous.”

She squeezed my ankle gently. “It is a fundraiser, Kayla. It is not a world championship.”

I sat up and hugged my knees. “It is not just that, Mom. Vivian is running. I do not even know which lap she is doing. I have to beat her. I have to prove something.”

“Prove it to who?” she asked softly.

“Everyone,” I said. “To myself. To all those sponsors. To the girls on my team. To her.”

My mother sighed. “All you need to prove is that you care about those children the fundraiser is for. The rest is ego.”

“Maybe,” I murmured. “But if I lose against her, it will not just be ego. People will talk.”

She leaned closer and kissed the side of my head. “You will do well. And you will come home with your head high, whether you win or not. Now go shower.”

I obeyed because if I stayed in bed longer, my thoughts would drag me down. After showering and dressing in casual clothes, I came downstairs with my duffel bag. My mother had made toast and eggs but I could only eat half the toast.

“You need energy,” she warned.

“I will be fine,” I said, finishing a sip of water instead.

My phone buzzed. Ashton.

He texted: I am outside.

I grabbed my bag and hugged my mother quickly. She patted my back. “Good luck, Kayla.”

“Thank you.”

When I stepped outside, Ashton leaned against his car with sunglasses on even though the sun was barely awake. He straightened and opened the passenger door for me.

“Morning racer,” he said.

“Morning,” I replied.

I got in and he shut the door before circling around to the driver side. As soon as he sat down, he looked at me.

“You look like you are about to sit for a final exam.”

“That is how it feels,” I muttered.

He chuckled and drove off. “You will crush it. Also, you know it is a good thing Vivian is running, right? It gives you more drive.”

“I do not need more drive,” I said. “I already want to beat her.”

“Good. Then stop looking like someone stole your puppy.” He reached over and tapped my forehead lightly. “Relax.”

I tried, but the further we got, the more tense I felt. We drove mostly in silence until we reached a major intersection.

“Is that Steven of a guy coming?” he asked casually.

I blinked at the awkwardness. “Yeah. He texted that he will meet me there because he has some business to deal with.”

Ashton nodded like this was normal. “Makes sense. He likes showing up where he isn’t needed.”

I stared at the window ready to change the topic. “I do not know why I feel more nervous.”

“Because I brought up Steven’s name,” Ashton said simply. “There is nothing bad about that.”

I frowned. “I do not know what you’re talking about.”

“You do,” he said. “You just pretend you do not.”

I turned away, hiding the small twist in my chest. “Focus on the road and stop talking shit.”

He laughed quietly. “Fine.”

When we got close to the stadium, the roads were already congested with cars, buses, cyclists, and groups of spectators walking in bunches. Banners were tied to poles and railings, all with bright fonts and cheerful drawings of children. It reminded me momentarily what the event was actually for.

Ashton parked in a reserved lot and shut off the engine. He looked at me seriously.

“You will be amazing. You always are. Go out there and burn that track.”

“Thank you,” I said, unable to stop the nervous little smile forming.

He leaned over and kissed me lightly. It was affectionate, not intense, and it steadied me a bit.

“Go,” he said.

I grabbed my bag and stepped out. The sound hit me immediately. Cheers, whistles, loud chatter, announcements, all blending into a noisy whirlwind. Women in colorful team jerseys were rushing toward the warm up area. Spectators were taking pictures of everything, even trash on the ground.

Inside the athlete area, I spotted my teammates stretching on mats. My coach was pacing with a clipboard in his hand.

“Kayla,” he called. “Good. Warm up. It will help you breathe.”

“Yes coach,” I replied, dropping my bag and joining the others.

One of the women smiled at me. “You ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” I admitted, stretching my hamstrings.

“We need this win,” she said. “We need those kids to get all the funding.”

I nodded. “We will get it.”

The coach clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies. Today is not about medals. It is about performance. It is about children who need better homes and education. Run with that in your heart.”

We all nodded mutely. Then he walked to me.

“You are the first lap,” he reminded me. “This time, do not hold back. You did six last time. Today, go all out. Make them chase you.”

“I will.”

As we lined up for the official call out, a group of children walked out with the coordinators. They were small, maybe six to ten years old, some holding hands, some shyly looking at the athletes. One of the boys reached his hand out to me for a shake and I shook it gently. His palm was tiny and warm.

“Good luck,” he whispered.

My throat tightened. “Thank you.”

They moved down the line, shaking hands with everyone, and then we all paused as the announcer spoke about Mel. Her name was displayed on the big screens. A picture of her smiling flashed up and the stadium quieted. I blinked quickly, refusing to cry. I remembered all her encouragement to me. My jaw clenched. I would win for her if I could.

The commentators began shouting out notable attendees next. Sports stars. Coaches. Then…

“Please welcome Ashton Ward,” one of them boomed.

A spotlight pointed toward where he was sitting in the stands. He waved awkwardly and the crowd cheered.

“And Steven Wade!”

My head snapped up in panic. The spotlight moved slightly to Steven who was sitting a few seats away from Ashton. He lifted a hand in a half wave. My pulse sped. More awkward as they were busy glaring at themselves.

They shouldn’t kill themselves though.

Teams gathered for position assignments and when Vivian came into view wearing her team’s jersey, our eyes locked. She smirked.

I couldn’t help but ask the woman standing next me. “Which lap is that lady running?” I asked casually.

“She’s running the Second lap for her team,” the woman replied.

“Just Perfect,” I mumbled underneath my breath as I rolled my eyes.

Before she could say another word, officials separated us. My focus snapped back into place. Gun loaded. Runners stretched. The woman to my left bounced in place. The one to my right whispered prayers under her breath.

The coach shouted from the sidelines. “Kayla. Give us a good start. Give us a lead.”

I nodded once.

The gun went off.

I pushed off the blocks instantly. The world blurred. Air rushed against my face and tracks pounded under my feet. I heard gasps from the crowd when I widened the gap only halfway down the first curve. It felt like my body had been waiting days to do exactly this.

Every time someone behind me tried to close in, I pushed harder. Breath in. Breath out. Arms cutting through the air. By the time I reached the exchange zone, I was second out of seven, just behind the fastest first lapper. I slammed the baton into my team second runner hand and bent over with my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath.

“Go,” I gasped. “Go go go.”

She took off immediately.

I straightened, chest burning, and watched from the sidelines. I had given my team the best possible start. It was up to them now.

The second lap woman was neck and neck with Vivian who really happened to be the second lapper for her team. They were matched until the back curve. Then suddenly, Vivian tripped. It happened too casually. Her foot swung just enough to clip the second lapper of Kayla’s team shin. She stumbled hard but did not fall. The stadium erupted with shock.

Vivian who tripped on her didn’t stumble or fall.

“Disqualification,” I shouted at an official. “She tripped her. Did you not see it?”

The official shook his head. “No foul. We should let it slide and continue.”

“No foul? She literally tripped her,” I snapped.

The second lap woman regained her pace but two positions had been lost. My heartbeat strained harder than my legs had moments ago. Vivian jogged like nothing happened, passing the baton cleanly.

The third lap began and our runner pushed aggressively. She moved from fourth to third to second in less than half the track. I screamed encouragement until my throat burned.

When the fourth lapper took over, the pressure doubled. She did not like me. She never did. But she ran with a force that made me forget every petty argument we had. She fought tooth and nail, passing two runners, taking second place just behind Vivian’s team.

When she crossed the finish line and collapsed to her knees, the stadium roared. Vivian’s team was first. We were second.

But as Vivian raised her hand in silent victory from across the field, I knew at that moment she was not done.

Vivian was declaring war.