Tony held Michelle's hand as they walked up the bleachers. Michelle, looking for her sister, saw a group of girls huddled together in blue and white uniforms. She scanned the group hopefully, but wasn't surprised to see Ellie stretching off to one side of the track by herself.
They sat down near the top just as they heard the announcer call for high hurdles, Ellie's first event. She took second in hurdles and first in the two-mile, but that was because she was one of three girls running it. Between the two-mile and her next event, the mile, Ellie came up to where Tony and Michelle were sitting.
"Hey cute girl!" Michelle said brightly, nudging Tony to scoot over to make room for Ellie on the end of the row. "You're doing great!"
"Yeah, those hurdles were fabulous!" Tony chimed in.
Ellie smiled shyly. "Thanks." She sat down next to Michelle, who put her arm around her.
"You really are looking fantastic out there. I'm really proud of you," Michelle said enthusiastically, and then leaned closer to Ellie to almost whisper, "Dad would be too."
Ellie nodded, staring at the empty bleachers directly across the field.
The three made small conversation for the next few minutes, and before long, Ellie was back down on the field, warming up for the mile.
Tony put his hand on Michelle's knee. "She's a really good runner. And she's fast."
"Yeah..." Michelle said, leaning her head on Tony's shoulder, but looking off into the distance. "But sometimes, I think that she spends a little too much time running."
"Well, practice is how you get good," Tony said. "And she obviously enjoys-"
Michelle cut him off. "No, I mean, in her life. She runs a lot."
Tony looked skeptically at Michelle, taking her hand in his. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Michelle took a breath, sorting out her words. "When my dad died, she ran. First literally, then figuratively." As she told Tony about it, memories came flooding back.
It was a Thursday, and Ellie had left for school like every other day. School was almost out for the summer; it got out earlier in Paris than in the United States. But as she was sitting in her last class of the day, the vice-principal of the International School in Paris came down to her classroom and asked to speak with Ellie in the hallway.
He didn't tell her in the hallway; he actually decided to take her to his office, but she knew something was very wrong. When he did tell her, she nearly fell out of her seat, then got up, and took off. School officials tried to stop her, but she always had been fast, and before they knew if, she was blocks away.
She turned up a few hours later at home, her hair sticking out wildly and her school uniform filthy. Someone in a suit was waiting for her there, but it wasn't her dad.
Michelle remembered all too vividly her phone call. She was at home; it was 8 a.m., and she was already late for work at district. She had answered her phone, annoyed that someone would be calling right now, but nearly dropped the phone when she heard the news, feeling tears well up in her eyes. When she hung up, she slid down to the floor, where she sat cross-legged and bawled until her eyes were dry.
A few days later, Michelle stood in the airport, watching tired passenger after tired passenger exit the plane. When the plane was near empty, she say a bedraggled Ellie, curls messy; backpack on tightly; book in hand, exit.
Michelle, already crying, had rushed to where Ellie was standing, looking lost. Before even speaking, she hugged Ellie tightly and quietly sobbed into her hair.
"Did you check a suitcase?" Michelle had half-spoken, half-whispered, kneeling to be nearer Ellie's height and pushing her curls out of her eyes, trying to coax her into looking up.
Ellie nodded. "One. There's boxes on the way."
Michelle had only been in L.A. for a little over a year, and Ellie hadn't visited her there, so the entire city, the atmosphere, everything, was unfamiliar. As Michelle drove home from the airport, she noticed how small and alone Ellie looked in the passenger seat of her car. They didn't speak much on the ride, but they both had a good idea of how the other felt. Michelle, occasionally, felt obligated to say something, so she mentioned it to Ellie when she passed the middle school she would attend in the fall and when she got a good view of the sun setting on the ocean, but nothing elicited much response from the quiet passenger.
When they were almost home, Michelle turned to Ellie and said, "Are you hungry?" Ellie looked down, as if she were thinking about it, then turned to her sister and nodded. "I know," Michelle continued, "that airplane food is gross." She stopped and picked up sandwiches.
Upon arrival at her apartment, Michelle gave Ellie the quick tour before guiding her to the couch and putting a sandwich in her hand. Ellie hardly ate; Michelle didn't eat much more, and before Ellie fell asleep that night in Michelle's arms, Michelle whispering to her that it would be okay, she promised.
"It was hard for a while," Michelle told Tony, her head still on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her. "It took a long time before she smiled again. But it was like she didn't want to actually think about it; she didn't want to get over it. She just wanted to run away from it." She lifted her head slightly and Tony looked her in the eyes. "She never cried."
By this point, Michelle was crying, and Tony simply held her as Ellie's final race began. Tears running down her cheeks, Michelle cheered for Ellie as she broke the tape.