And at night, I like to stare up at the moon.

Chapter 2: THE RIGHT BEGINNING

The air blows in cold and clean, but New England wet, through my open window. I pull up the screen and stick my head out. Up above me the moon is huge and bright. It gets bigger every night, and now, with it just a few days from full, I want nothing more than to jump out the window and run. Run down the empty streets.

But I can’t. Can’t jump out the window, obviously, but can’t run, either.

From down the street comes the even sound of feet gliding smoothly through the night.

Enrique. It’s got to be Enrique. These days he does nothing but train. We used to be best friends. Back when I was a middle school cross-country star and he had just arrived from Tampico, Tamaulipas. Maybe we still are best friends, but we’re moving apart fast. Well he’s moving fast, and I’m just standing still. Or limping along.

Enrique’s going to make the team. Varsity, maybe, as a high school freshman.

Good for him.

Me, I’ve got enough problems getting down the stairs.

I strap on my brace, grit my teeth. What’s up tonight? Is it the humidity? The moon? Or just that this is when I used to run?

Some questions just lead you down dead-end streets.