Chapter 4: 4. Run, Pink, Run

That first year was noteworthy for many things. First, it had been my first glimpse of Pippa on her first day at our school. Second, Pippa’s campaign and my introduction as ‘Pink.’ Then there was Carlotta, The Carlottas, and The Brides of Elvis. Many things seemed to fall into the Carlotta experience and then everything else were other moments that left me with either a little more insight into Pippa or left me with a whole lot of questions. The afternoon of the motorcycle was one of those incidents that fell into both of those latter categories.

I don’t remember the specific date but I remember it was mid-week because we were back in school that day and it was an excessively warm day…too warm I thought for a motorcycle jacket. Of course, the rest of us had shed some of our winter or cooler spring attire and it gratified me to no end to see Pippa with less layers. I remember her legs. That’s not one of those things I’m likely to forget. Still, I can’t remember if she wore shorts or a skirt. Still, I guess that minor detail is not important.

It was at the end of the day and I don’t remember what we were talking about as we exited the school. This had become a ritual for us most days. Some days it was just Pippa and I and sometimes her cousin, Sienna or Sasha, was there. On this particular day, her cousin was in tow.

The first thing I noticed when I exited the school was the motorcycle. You couldn’t miss it. It was parked near the entrance and it was all new and glistening in the sun. The owner was noticeable too with a shiny black helmet and a black leather jacket. This guy was the epitome of cool. He still had his helmet on so I didn’t recognize him. I didn’t recall seeing anyone with a motorcycle attending our school. It had to be a new acquisition if it was one of our students.

Pippa gave out with a long whistle. “Will, you look at that. I wonder who he is?” she asked. At that moment, given her excitement and interest, I suddenly thought this motorcycle and the rider weren’t so much.

Hearing the whistle and Pippa’s voice, the rider turned toward Pippa and removed his helmet.

“Roger!” she exclaimed excitedly and ran forward and threw her arms around him. If she had whispered anything to him, I couldn’t hear it.

“Hey Pippa,” he responded when she separated herself from him. I had been uncomfortable with the length of their embrace. Who was this guy? I sensed competition. “Like the new wheels?” he continued. New wheels? Who says that?

“Do I!” she purred as she ran her hand over the side bike. “Where’d you get it?” “How’d you get it?”

“I’ll give you a ride and tell you all about it.” He offered her his helmet and shook out his own hair. Great, I thought. This guy has the hair and the looks to match the new motorcycle. There was a pain in my stomach. I was sure I had been forgotten in the moment.

“A ride? You bet!” she offered and donned the helmet and straddled the back of the bike. “Ow, the seat is hot!” She immediately adjusted herself. That’s how I remember the legs.

“Hang on,” he offered. He started the bike and after a moment of thundering noise they started out. In what was an afterthought, Pippa turned and shouted “see you tomorrow” over the rumbling of the motorcycle. She couldn’t wave because her hands were wrapped tightly around the rider. I stared off with my mouth wide.

“Jealous much?” Her cousin was at my side. I had forgotten about her.

“I told you once I’m just a friend, nothing more.” I offered with my dry and gaping mouth.

“Yeah, and I told you to keep telling yourself that. Remember those pitfalls I told you about? Meet Roger.”

“Who’s Roger?” I asked and then quickly added, “wait, I don’t need to know.” The truth was I did need to know but I wasn’t going to kowtow to her and show I really was jealous.

“Relax, Romeo, it’s her brother.”

Her brother? Why didn’t I know she had a brother? “I didn’t know she had a brother. She never mentioned him.”

“Like I said, one of her pitfalls. I better not say anything more. If you want to know more about Roger, you better ask Pippa.” She walked away.

I didn’t know what to think. How could Pippa never mention a Brother? I thought she was an only child. Frankly, she had never spoken about her family. If I had put all the clues and information together that I did know, I could honestly believe she was an only child or an orphan for the lack of all the family information she did share. I only knew about her cousin and I didn’t know on what side of the family she was related.

I didn’t see Pippa for most of the next day. We had a morning Geography class together but she wasn’t there. We didn’t sit together in that class but I could see her empty seat from my desk.

I finally caught up with Pippa at the end of the day. She was walking down the hall alone. I called out to her but she didn’t turn or slow down. It wasn’t until I was right behind her and tapped her on the shoulder before she acknowledged me.

“Oh, hi Pink, I didn’t know you were there.” She seemed listless and not ready to engage.

“Is everything alright?” I asked.

“Have you got a few hours, Pink?” I knew that she didn’t mean that literally.

“Sure, what’s up?” I went on.

“That son of a bitch!” she exclaimed. She just as quickly repeated it. “That son of a bitch!”

It wasn’t like Pippa to get that worked up and she wasn’t always quick with profanity.

“Who?” I asked.

“My father, that’s who,” she replied. “And Roger,” she quickly added.

“What’s the problem?” I really didn’t have a clue.

“My father, that son of a bitch, bought Roger that motorcycle and the helmet and the leather jacket.” I didn’t know that Pippa could be that envious.

“Is there a problem with that?” Again, I had no clue and I couldn’t see what the problem was.

“Yes, there’s a god-damn problem, Pink. I guess you don’t really get it.” She started to walk away.

“Pippa, I don’t know what’s going on here,” I called after her. I thought I should be honest and straight with her. “First, I didn’t know you had a brother until yesterday and you seemed okay to me when you two rode off together. And now you’re completely pissed off with your father and your brother and now me. I’m not sure how to navigate this all.”

Pippa turned back and walked up to me and slapped me in the face. “You’re so god-damned dense Pink. I’m not sure why I’m
friends with you. Tell me Pink, what do you bring to this friendship?”

My face really stung. A number of students stopped to watch what was happening. I didn’t want an audience so I turned and walked away. I was hurt and it wasn’t just my face. What did I bring to the friendship? I thought I brought everything. I had never turned away from her. I had longed after her and walked with her and listened to her and worried over her but this was too much. The real question, I thought, was what did Pippa bring to this friendship? Was it really a friendship? It seemed pretty one-sided to me.

Pippa didn’t call after me or scurry up and try to link arms with me and try to apologize. I didn’t give her the chance. If she did anything behind my back I didn’t know and, at that moment, I didn’t care.

I skipped school the next day. I feigned a stomach ache and it seemed real enough to my Mother. I had never done that before so she had no idea I wasn’t really sick. The next day would be Saturday and I thought the weekend would help me put some distance between what had happened and give me time to think what to do next.

My brother Rod stopped in to check on me after he got home from school. He was a year ahead of me but we really hadn’t hung out much since I had started at the high school. We each had our own interests and he had his friends and probably thought he was too cool to be hanging out with anyone in lower grades.

“How’s it going, faker?” he asked. I knew his checking in on me wasn’t out of brotherly concern. “The whole school’s talking about that slap yesterday. No wonder you stayed home today. I wouldn’t let my girlfriend treat me that way.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I replied without displaying too much emotion. “Besides, you’d have to have a girlfriend before you’d get treated in any way,” I shot back.

“Listen, little brother, if I wanted one I could get one. I’ve got my future ahead of me and I’m not going to start it off saddled down.” I wasn’t sure what future Rod was speaking about. I didn’t know what his future plans were. He only worked summers at a local Texaco and the following year he’d be finished school. If he had Post-Secondary plans, he certainly didn’t share them with me. Still, his cavalier attitude about not having a romantic attachment was starting to make sense to me.

“My relationship with Pippa is complicated and frankly none of your business.”

“No skin off my nose, Pink. Is that what she calls you? I’ve heard people talk.” Rod was acting just a little too smug.

“Heard what?” I asked. I wanted to know what else he had heard other than Pippa’s nickname for me.

Rod leaned on the door frame. “You better watch your step around that one; I hear that she and that brother of hers have some kind of history.”

“Like what? You don’t know anything.” I wanted to know what he knew but also didn’t want him to know that I was anxious to learn it.

“I don’t think I better tell you. You’re not ready to hear the details.” He smirked at me and I wanted so much to punch him in the face.

“See, I told you that you don’t know anything.” I thought the taunting would loosen his tongue.

“Okay, wise-ass, you asked for it. I know a guy that knows her brother. They say he’s not bad but the sister is a wild cannon. Did you know they don’t even live together?”

Of course, this was news to me. Everything was news to me. I guess I was the one that really didn’t know anything. 

“Rumor has it that the family split up because they caught her in bed with him,” Rod continued. “Chew on those details. You better watch yourself Pink.”

I rose quickly off the bed and made for Rod.

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“You’re a liar!” I shouted as I took a swing at him.

My aim was wide and he grabbed my arm and twisted it.

“Don’t even try it brother, I’ll break your arm. Besides, don’t shoot the messenger. It’s what I heard.”

“Get out,” I yelled and pushed him through the door.

“Excuse me for caring.” Of course, he didn’t care.

I slammed the door when he was clear. “Loser,” he shouted through the closed door. I thought about shouting something back at him but I was too angry and too confused after what he had just said. My anger was all-encompassing. I was angry at Rod. I was angry at Pippa. I was angry at her brother. Hell, I was even angry with myself.  

I kept to myself most of the weekend and when I did see Rod, we didn’t speak. I think he was just as glad not to engage with me.

At school, on Monday, Pippa was standing at my locker when I got there. She’d met me at my locker before sometimes and if it was a Monday morning, we would idly chat about what we had done over the weekend. I was still reeling from everything. The physical hurt from the slap was gone but the internal hurt was something I couldn’t shake. I wasn’t ready to talk to her. I didn’t know what to say.

“Pink, I’m sorry,” she said almost pleadingly as if her apology would make everything better. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you either, not right now. Do me one favour, Pink. Will you run with me?”

“Will I run with you?” I had a thousand questions swirling through my brain. Some were about the slap and some were about what Rod had said. I could only think to ask that one. What did that even mean? Was she asking me to run away with her? How would that solve anything? Before the slap, I would have run to the far corners of the earth with her. What made her think that running away with her now, would fix anything?

“I’m not ready to talk now, Pink. I know I’ve hurt you. I owe you some answers but I need a couple more days. Run the Harrier with me on Wednesday. We can talk then.” The pleading was there again in her voice and in her eyes.

I had forgotten about the Harrier. It was an annual event that happened every spring. It was a two-mile run that really wasn’t much more of an excuse to get out of classes. You signed up to run it and you got to get out of whatever class you would normally have been in at that time. There were many who ran but few who ran the whole way. The Harrier snaked downed the hill from our school up a side street then across another street to a main street and then back to the street the school was on. Most of us, who ran it to cut class, ran the first bit down the hill to the side street and then walked the rest of the way. We only ran the last part again when we were in sight of school. I never knew what a Harrier was or if it was named after someone. What I did know was that they recorded your name and your time and how you finished. It was really a glorified recruitment for track and field. I came in seventy-fifth both times I participated.

“I know this is your first year here Pippa, but most students don’t really run the Harrier. They only end up walking most of the way so they can get out of class.” I’m not sure my explanation was really going to help bring us back closer together.

“I know that Pink, Sandra told me.” Sandra, that was her cousin’s name! Why couldn’t I remember that? “We’ll walk and talk. I just want to get away from here somewhere we can have some privacy.”

The meaning of her plan wasn’t really lost on me. Sure, it would be private but it would be time-limited. She had obviously put some thought into her proposal. I guess it was better than running away together. I wasn’t ready for that but I also wasn’t really excited for the walk and talk. Still, things had to get settled somehow.

“Ok,” I offered, “I’m already registered for the Harrier. What should I wear?” I thought maybe easing the moment with a joke would help ease things along.

“Not now, Pink, Wednesday. I have to run.” With that, she was gone. I’m not sure if her parting words of ‘I have to run’ was her attempt at humour. It didn’t seem all that funny to me. Nothing about Pippa this past week had amused me in the least.

Wednesday afternoon was another sunny and warm spring day. The first year I ran the Harrier in grade nine had been warm as well but in grade ten it had been cold and rainy. I wasn’t looking forward to the Harrier but time off of class was not a bad benefit. It was the anticipation of the talk with Pippa that had me on edge.

The first couple of days that week had been civil between us. Neither of us sought each other out and if we crossed each other in the hall or outside at the end of the day, we nodded or waved. It was clear that both of us wanted things to be better between us but Pippa had laid down the ground rules and I had agreed to them.

Another perk to the Harrier and it being warm was seeing Pippa’s legs again. Most of us had short sleeve shirts and shorts on but there was the odd student with long pants. That was me in grade nine. I had run the Harrier in long pants and my legs had chafed the whole way. Even though it had been cold and rainy the previous year, I had still worn shorts and hadn’t minded all that much. Coming in seventy-fifth both years wasn’t anything to boast about but I often wondered if I was a better runner than I knew. I hadn’t really tried before. I knew my shortcomings and being athletic was what I always thought was one of them.

The afternoon of the Harrier, Pippa and I lined up together. She flashed me a smile and it made me a little weak in the knees. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this.

“Are you ready for this?” I asked her. I was trying to deflect from my own nervousness.

“Are you?” she replied. Talk about a loaded response. There was more in that response than I could have imagined. I was asking her if she was ready for the race and I think she was asking me if I was ready for what she had to say. I definitely wasn’t ready for either. I was thinking that maybe the slap was a better deal than what was to come.

When the whistle blew we all ran down the hill in a pack. There had to have been a hundred or so students mixed with males and females. Coming in seventy-fifth in previous years was being in the bottom percentile. I didn’t think about it then but that was certainly not something of which to be proud.

Pippa and I kept pace with the middle group. Ahead of us were the athletes who had something to prove and behind us were the ones who didn’t care and were just there as an excuse not to attend class. I didn’t know what the middle pack represented. Maybe these were ones who just wanted to socialize with their friends or could go either way with their concern. Some would break off and challenge the athletes ahead. It would always happen.

I kept waiting for a signal from Pippa but it didn’t happen until we turned onto the first side street. Typically that was where most slowed down or walked and those in the middle who thought themselves more athletically inclined would pick up speed and sprint on ahead. I looked at Pippa and she didn’t show any signs of slowing down. I tossed her a questioning look.

Pippa just put out a hand containing a small note. It said one word: “Run.” I turned to her and I saw her start to pull ahead.

“Pippa! What does this mean?” I shouted after her. She just kept on lengthening the gap between us.

I started to run faster. I started to close the gap but I realized she could really run. In my effort to catch up, I realized we were passing others in the group. These were the ones who were trying to challenge the leaders. I was glad I was wearing shorts. If I had worn pants like the first year, my legs would have been chafed raw.

I caught up to her as we were rounding the corner of the next side street that would take us to the main street that would meet up with the street the school was on. It wasn’t a very long street. It might have been a block long or a little more with maybe a dozen houses on each side. They were all single-story homes. Some had attached garages while others had attached carports with openings at either end. Some had fenced yards with some wooden fences and others chain link. It looked like a quiet neighbourhood.

Halfway up the street on the right was one of the single-story homes with a carport and a chain link fence. It also had a good sized maple tree in the front yard. It was one of the few houses that didn’t sport brickwork or siding. Its sole eye-catching feature was that it was painted an avocado green that had been so popular in the 1970s. This alone should have made the house stand out but what drew my eye was a white bristol-board sign tacked to the tree with balloons hanging from the bottom. It sported a message in big pink letters: RUN, PINK, RUN.

I couldn’t believe it. I was sure that it was meant for me but Pippa said nothing and kept running. She pushed hard and pulled ahead of me again. I was almost to the point of being winded but I had to see this through. I thought we were going to talk but if she wanted a race, given all of my recent anger and confusion, I was going to give her one.

We turned onto the main street and ran north towards the corner where we would turn left and back onto the street that held our school and the last leg of the Harrier. I think at that point, I had run at least five miles in my mind where it had really been about half the race or a single mile. My heart and lungs were pounding and my head was dizzy with questions. Why were we racing each other? Why wasn’t she talking to me? What was with the house with the sign encouraging me to run?

When we reached the corner, I could see some of the runners ahead of us running back up the street to the school. There was a long flat section and then the street started to rise on a hill with the school perched at the top. I didn’t know what was driving Pippa but she continued to propel herself forward without slowing. I used everything I had in me to keep pace with her. We passed other racers. I lost count but they fell behind us as we ran.

As we began to run up the hill, I thought about passing her. I wanted so much to excel at her little game. The thought was fleeting. She drew on some kind of reserve of energy to put on a last-minute spurt and nosed me out at the finish.  

There were student volunteers waiting at the front of the school signalling the end point of the race. I threw myself down on my back on the grass just past them with my knees bent straight up and started to pant heavily. I was winded and my legs ached. Pippa did a slow lap around me and eventually flopped down on the grass next to me.

“What are your names?” I looked up to see one of the student volunteers looking over us.

“What?” was all I could think to ask. I could barely say that because I was breathing so heavily.

“What are your names?” she asked again. “I have to put it down.” I noticed then she was holding a pen and clipboard.

“Pippa Bailey,” Pippa replied.

“Jeff Carter,” I gave out as I was catching my breath.

“Bailey, you’re ninth. Carter, you’re tenth.” I think she might have given us our times for completing the race but I didn’t care.

My heart was slowing and I could breathe a little more normally. I rolled over and looked at Pippa. She was pulling casually at some blades of grass and throwing them into the air.

“What the hell was that all about?” I asked.

“I needed to know if you could keep up. Now we can talk.” She continued to play with the grass as if nothing had happened. It didn’t seem like she had just run a marathon. I wondered if she had done this before. Of course, that wasn’t the foremost question in my mind. What was she playing at?

“Talk? You want to talk now?” She wanted to talk and I could barely speak a few words after all that running. None of this made any sense to me.

“Not now, Pink. Where’s that note I gave you?”

“You mean the one that said RUN?” I was still clutching it in my right hand. My palms were sweaty and the paper was damp but I could still make out the one-word message.

“Turn it over,” she said.  

I turned it over. On the back were the words ‘Saturday’ followed by ‘one o’clock.’ Underneath was an address. I recognized the street name. It had been the side street with the green house and bristol-board sign.

“That’s my address. Come Saturday and we’ll talk. Now that I know that you can keep up with me, it’ll be easier for you.” She got up and jogged away, leaving me still winded and still confused. I held that little scrap of paper as tightly as I could. To me, it was like an admission to an event or show. I wondered what Saturday would bring.

It had been a tough week. The previous week I had met the brother on the motorcycle and the next day I had my face slapped. Now I had run the Harrier and been invited to Pippa’s home for a talk. It never even occurred to me at the time that finishing the Harrier in the top ten was even significant. I sat up and watched the other runners come in. When I heard the volunteer announce to another student that he had finished seventy-fifth, I couldn’t help but smile. That had been me, two years in a row and now I finished tenth but I was still running a marathon with Pippa that had no end in sight.

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