It's Part of the Game by Begin Again |
Dressed in blue and white, Johnny stood in the middle of the track, searching the crowd. Finally, he saw his mom jumping and waving on the sidelines. He smiled and waved to her. Today was a big day for him. He’d claimed two ribbons already and was trying for his third. His best friend and a dangerous opponent, Darryl, stood two lanes away. “I’m going to get you this time, John.” Darryl waved his finger at his friend. “Leaving you in my dust.” The two boys laughed. The row of twelve and thirteen-year-old boys assumed their position. They crouched down and waited for the signal. “On your mark.” “Get set.” “Go!” The starter pistol fired, and the boys shot out of their blocks and down the field. Johnny and Darryl were neck and neck as they raced toward the finish line. The strain on their faces showed their determination to win. Their bodies pumped, and their feet flew, leaving flying dirt behind them. The finish line loomed ahead. Johnny edged ahead of his friend, gaining several strides. Darryl pushed himself harder, trying to regain the lead. Suddenly, he stumbled and fell across the track, screaming in pain. Johnny heard his friend’s anguish cry, and he abruptly stopped. Turning, he saw Darryl lying in the dirt, holding his leg; he ran back to help. The coach rushed to the track and waved for the EMT team to come as well. Johnny knelt by his friend; his concern was evident. “You okay, Darryl?” His friend grimaced but laughed, “I was going to catch you.” “No way!” Johnny shook his head vigorously. The EMTs lifted Darryl onto a stretcher. Johnny walked by his side; the race was forgotten. Standing in the bleachers, the crowd clapped and cheered. The boys waved enthusiastically. Johnny’s mom wiped a tear from her eye. She was so proud of her son. He might not have reached the finish line, but he’d proven what a special boy he was. Tonight, they’d celebrate with ice cream, and Johnny would talk non-stop about Darryl. It wasn’t about winning; it was all about friendship and caring.
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