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Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

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I turn and run into the locker room wondering how my nerves<br />

just disappeared. Then again, I don’t need to know why. They’re<br />

gone and I’m ready to race.<br />

There are three other schools in the meet today. The team from<br />

Lyceum Olympia is the strongest. Coach Lenny told me their lead<br />

runner—Jackie Lavaris—is going to be on the Greek team next<br />

Olympics. She’s my stiffest competition.<br />

But the racers from Academia Athena—an all-girls military<br />

school—look pretty tough. Their camo uniforms might have something<br />

to do with that impression. Some of the Hestia School girls<br />

look like their preppy softness could be a veneer. I’ve learned to<br />

never underestimate a runner based on appearances—the pink<br />

shorts could be a disguise.<br />

I’m standing in our starting block—the painted square where<br />

all the runners from the Academy will start—taking deep, calming<br />

breaths and shaking out my legs.<br />

Under the light blue shorts of my uniform I’m wearing my lucky<br />

underwear. Since I can’t wear any of my running t-shirts on race day<br />

I always wear my DON’T WORRY--YOU’LL PASS OUT BEFORE YOU DIE undies.<br />

They are just a reminder not to leave anything on the course. Running<br />

won’t kill me, but losing might.<br />

“<strong>Oh</strong> no!” Zoe cries.<br />

“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”<br />

She points at her foot and the broken lace on her left shoe. After<br />

230

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