A Turn of Events

The words fall from my lips. "I can't," I gasp. "I turned my ankle." I begin to limp.

Concern washes over Amber's face. "Let's walk it out," she says. More and more runners pass. I wave her ahead, and she reluctantly accelerates. Then I walk off the course, defeated.

At home that evening, I kick my bedroom walls so hard that I almost do twist my ankle. As I sit alone, I replay the reprehensible race. How will I face my teammates? My coach? Should I just quit the team? That's what I'll do—quit.

Two nights later, I am at practice. I try to brush off the well-meaning concerns of my teammates; I stiffen at Amber's hug. "Coach Holly?" I say in a diminutive voice. "Can we talk for a minute?"

She takes me aside as the other girls stretch. You've got this, I tell myself. I breathe in deeply. "I don't think cross-country is for me," I say. But I don't plan for tears pool in my eyes. I don't plan to bury my face in my hands. And I don't plan to tell the truth. Once again, words fall from my mouth. "I love the team. But I couldn't finish the race, and I don't know why. I . . . I faked it." But Coach Holly stares at me. "My ankle," I say. "It's not hurt."

Coach Holly looks at me for a long time without saying a word. I prepare to walk off the field for the second time this week. That's when she begins to talk.

"The next race, you're going to take it slow—slower than you want. And you're going to finish. I know you can do it—you just need to prove that to yourself. Once you see that you can finish, then you can worry about speed. The weight of worry can make us immobile.

"I'm glad you told me the truth," she continued. "I think you know what you need to do next."

We walk toward my teammates, and all of their eyes lock with mine. The humidity begins to wrap itself around me, but I don't choke. "I am so sorry," I say. "I pretended I turned my ankle because I was embarrassed. I was just so scared, so nervous." I explain everything.

Naomi immediately hugs me, tells me not to worry, reassures me that things will get better. Others join in, some even sharing their own stories of debilitating jitters, and their own eventual triumph. Amber hangs back though, retying her sneakers, redoing her ponytail. And now I feel pain—real pain—throughout my body. I try to ignore the weight as I run, next to Naomi. At the end of practice, Amber rushes into her mother's car.

About two weeks later, at 8:00 on a Saturday morning, my teammates and I again huddle on a field, ready to begin our second race. A slight chill in the air teases autumn, and the hairs on my arms rise. Just finish, I tell myself. Just finish.

At the sound of the gun, I resist the urge to spring like a rabbit. I run at a comfortable pace, one that I know I can maintain easily. At around the first mile mark, I see Amber. I catch up to her, and we run the second mile together, stride for stride, breath for breath, but without exchanging a single word. My second mile is slightly slower than my first, and once again, I begin to gasp. Just stop, my mind whispers. But another voice, a real voice, says, "You're going to finish. We'll finish together." We run together, crossing the finish line in a little more than twenty-seven minutes.
Part A

What is the effect of the narrator’s mindset at the beginning of the story?

She is nervous about making friends at her new school, developing the theme that most young people value acceptance from their peers.

She is confident about the practice she has put in, developing the theme that preparedness is key to a successful performance.

She is reassured by her coach’s attention, developing the theme that most people appreciate reassurance from others in stressful moments.

She is apprehensive about being in her first competition, developing the theme that new experiences challenge old ways of thinking.
Question 2
Part B

Which quotation from the story best supports the response to Part A?

“Having just moved from one local suburb to another after my parents' divorce, I was thrilled to be fitting in with a fun group of girls before stepping into a new school— …”

“…I've practiced with my teammates in the evenings, the only rising freshman to show up to the optional preseason runs.”

“I stand among my teammates and about a hundred other girls at the starting line, a rainbow of singlets on a field of thirsty grass.”

“Despite my coach's advice to 'stay loose' before the five-kilometer race, I remain still, and I can feel my muscles start to tense.”