The first day I met Mabel, I knew she was a proud young girl. She was standing on the dusty school field with folded arms and upright chin as if telling the whole world to challenge her. She had just outrun every boy during inter-house sports trials, and the whole field were screaming her name like a newly discovered anthem.
I didn’t like her.
It was obvious she was fast, we all knew that, but that wasn't why I hated her, but it was because she didn't care who she defeated. The way she runs makes it look like winning was oxygen and everyone else was just breathing her leftover air.
But life has a sense of humor. 3 days later, the coach paired she and I as training partners for the regional qualifiers.
"You both need each other," Coach said, scribbling on his cracked clipboard.
"You..." Pointing at me "...you have discipline but no fire. And you..."pointing at Mabel "you have fire but no discipline". If you two work together, we may win something this year".
We both didn't want to work together. Mabel rolled her eyes. I sighed. But none of our opinions matters, coach never changed his mind.
So we both decided to put our differences aside and put in the work. And by the third week of the training, something strange happened, we became real friends.
She had this loud and careless laugh that usually burst out at the wrong moments. During stretches, during sprints, the time she tripped and accused the track of "wickedness". So I found myself laughing too, even on days when the sun felt like oven.
We grew into a team before we knew it. She pushed me into running faster, I reminded her to breathe properly. We had our differences, she teased my serious face, I teased her dramatic stretching routines. It's true we were nothing alike, but somehow we fit.
Then we received a very shocking news: only one us could represent the school at regionals.
Coach announced it to us on a Monday morning. With a straight face, no apology.
You both will compete in trials on Saturday," he said. "Top runner goes. And that's final".
Mabel and I stared at each other, I wondered if this is how our story ends, I knew from her expression that she was wondering the same thing too.
I couldn't sleep that night. I kept imagining Mabel losing to me or me losing to her. Which one hurt more? I didn't know.
Saturday came too quickly.
The field was unusually quiet for a competition day. Even the usual noise from the school buildings felt muted. It was like everyone knew what the race meant.
Mabel was ready and bounced on her feet at the starting point, while pretending to be confident. But I...I wasn't pretending; I was terrified.
The whistle blew.
She shot forward like lightning. I pushed hard, my legs burning, lungs fighting the thick heat. I gained on her at the bend, she sped up. We were running like two halves of an unresolved argument.
When we reached the final stretch, I was some inches ahead. The crowd got blurred. The finish line sharpened. And victory felt so close I could almost taste it.
Then I heard a small, sharp scream. I turned my head, and there it was Mabel. She stumbled, twisting her ankle in an ugly ankle.
Her body hit the track with a thud that punched the breathe
I should have kept running. Every athlete knew better not to look back during a race.
But I stopped, just short of the finish line.
The other runners flew past me, their footsteps slicing through the sand. None of them looked back, they never hesitated. Till one of them finally won and Cheers erupted.
I didn't hear the noises or all that cheering. All I could see and hear was Mabel gripping her Ankle and biting her lip hard enough to draw tears she refused to cry out.
I ran and knelt beside her.
"Why did you stop, you should have finished," She said through clenched teeth.
“So should you,” I replied.
She laughed, that same loud and careless laugh, except now it was mixed with pain. And somehow the both of us laughed together.
It was at that point I learned the real meaning of the phrase: You win some, you lose some.
I lost my chance to go to regionals. But I didn't lose my friend.
She also lost the race, yes, but she didn't lose me either. We both helped each other to the sick bay, limping for different reasons.
Two weeks later, the coach announced the results for next year's team.
Mabel was still healing and I was was still wondering if I made the right decision by stopping. But coach smiled at us like he predicted everything from the start.
You too will make a great relay team in the next season," he said. "Some victories come later. Be patient."
On the walk home that day, Mabel Nudged me with her elbow.
"Next year," she said, make sure you run and win, and not like you're responsible for my life."
"No," I said. "But I'll run like we're running together"
We both smiled. And somehow our smiles meant more than winning anything.
Images generated using my prompt on Chatgpt
