A/N: I am not Ally Carter, and I do not own Gallagher Girls.

Whenever I did something to get kicked out of a school, the headmaster or headmistress would always hesitate to actually do such a thing for two reasons.

1. I'm the daughter of a Senator

2. I'm their track star

Yeah that's right, I, Macey Mchenry, do a sport. You can't get a completely flat stomach and these kind of legs without exercise you know. Track was my sport. Running. I'd get gold in the 100, 200, and the 400. I'd get silver in the 800 and 1600. I'd do cross country in the off season. I set records.

Running is easy. Simple. Pretty efortless. Just pick up your legs and go. It's your lungs that start to burn if you're not in shape. It's your muscles that start to ache if you're not used to the strain.

It's not like volley ball where you have to rely on your other team mates to be there for you, and half the time their not. It's not like soccer where you have to worry about a stupid ball and people comming after you, kicking you when you're down. It's not like softball where a little white ball is hurled at you for no other reason then because you're the one standing there with a different jersey on. It's not like tennis where you only have one chance to hit that flying green ball, only one chance to succeed, and the one chance to fail. It's not like field hockey where the players all wear sweet and pretty skirts, and then bash people with their sticks.

In track you just run. That's all.

There are eight lanes. Eight runners. One finish line. One stop watch that tells you your time. And time is written in numbers. And numbers never lie. Unlike people. Because people lie all the time, I used to wonder if they ever even knew how to tell the truth.

In track, once that shot gun goes off, you're free. There's no one to hold you back, no one in your face telling you that you can't. No one yelling at you to be something your not. Freedom. It tastes like sweat running down the face, feels like the wind as you rush into it, sounds like the light pounding of feet, and smellls like the shouts of victory.

Freedom is runninng.

And I'm good at running.

And now I have freinds to run with.

A/N: REVIEW PLEASE!