Rachel ‘s knees burned as they skidded on the black top. The skin ripped from her palms, she stayed there for a few moment. Her hands and knees bled into the ground. Her heart pounded. Her lungs were fire. She didn’t think she could get up, but when the first girl passed her she had no choice. Rachel was going to win.
“It only matters that you do your best,” her father had told her, but she knew what he really meant. He always won. The dusty trophies in the box on the top shelf of the hall closet were proof. Ever since Rachel could reach them on her own she’d take them down when she was home alone and look at them. She’d feel the weight of them in her hands and run her fingers along the golden runner poised on top. “First Place,” they all said. [Read more…]