Page 67 of Running
MOM: You need to do it soon, Grace. They have rolling admissions processes, so the earlier candidates have a statistically higher chance.
I don’t respond. Lately, I’ve been ignoring her messages instead of hedging in my answers to appease her temporarily.
Momhatesbeing ignored.
Well, I hate being told to go to law school.
My mood sinks a bit as I stare at her texts.
Shake it off, Grace. Don’t let her control how you feel.
I head to my kitchen, making some breakfast and my favorite chai latte. A few bites and sips later, I begin to feel the bliss slide over me again.
The next thing on my agenda is to get started on my new book, a romantasy that’s all over social media right now. One of my Princeton friends has been raving about it too, so I’m ready to dive in and lose myself.
Ninety minutes later, I’m completely immersed in this other world, but my back is protesting. It doesn’t like staying in my living room chair this long, so the tugs of discomfort pull me out of my head.
As I stand up and stretch, I notice a few more messages have come in. Ones I’m happy to see this time.
Connor’s starting classes this week at Princeton, so he’s been pinging me with a ton of related questions. This morning is no different.
CONNOR: For my American Literature class, should I take detailed notes? Or just listen and absorb everything?
I shoot off my thoughts quickly, and he hearts thetext.
For whatever reason, Connor and I have a less emotionally rooted bond than I do with my other two brothers. Maybe because we are both so independent in that department?
But we do connect over practical and intellectual subjects in a way that’s unique. He’s insanely smart, and I think he appreciates our mutual love of learning and academic success. Neither of which are priorities for Landon or Rawley.
So if he’s upset, he goes to Landon. If he wants advice on how to do something, he comes to me.
He seems satisfied with my answer, and I move onto the next message that’s come in, this one from Jessica.
We’d spent the whole Waves game chatting, not only about the guys but also about our favorite music and books. In a fun coincidence, she’s at Tolliver, pursuing her masters in teaching, so we connected on that topic too. After exchanging numbers, she’d suggested we try to meet up this week before classes start back up.
I’m more than ready for some girl time, so her text this morning asking about grabbing lunch today is welcome. We set a location, and I head to my room to change out of my loungewear in anticipation of the meetup.
But then my phone goes off again, this time from a call. Praying it’s not Mom, I go to pick it up and don’t recognize the number. I answer anyway since it has an Orlando area code.
“Hello?”
“Hi Grace, this is Coach Shelley. From the Tolliver track team?”
What? Why is she calling me?
“Yes, hi.”
“I got your number from the student directory. I hope you don’t mind.”
My polite instincts win out in response. “No, it’s okay. How can I help you?”
“This is completely out of the blue, so forgive me.” She sighs into the phone. “There’s a junior on the team, Jasmine Diaz—have you heard her name before by any chance?”
I wrack my brain, but it doesn’t ring a bell. “No, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Anyway, she was a high school phenom, breaking a couple of state records here in Florida. Her best events now are the 3000 meters at indoor meets and 5000 meters outdoors.”
Huh.Same as me. Where is she heading with this? “Okay, yeah, I haven’t paid much attention to results or anything like that lately.”
