Heatbeat

HEARTBEATBy Sharon CreechFOOTFALLSThump-thump, thump-thumpbare feet hitting the grassas I run run runin the air and like the airweaving through the trees skimming over the groundtouching downthump-thump, thump-thumphere and therethere and herein the soft damp grassthump-thump, thump-thumpknowing I could fly fly flybut letting my feetthump-thump, thump-thumptouch the earthat least for now …MAXSometimes when I am runninga boy appearslike my sideways shadowfrom the trees he emergesrunningfalling into thump-thump stepsbeside me.Hey, Annie, he saysand I say, Hey, Maxand we runfastand smoothand easyand we do not talkuntil we reach the park and the red benchwhere we rest.Max is a strange boythirteena year older than I amdeeply seriousdetermined.He's in traininghe saysin training to escape.BEFORE I WAS BORNMy mother saysI was running running runninginside her before I was even born.She could feel my legs whirlingthump-thump, thump-thumpand she says that when I was bornI came out with my legs racingas if I would take offright then, right thereand dash straight out of her life.She says it made her laughand it scared her, too,because she'd only just met meand didn't want me to race away quite so soon.She says I've beenrunningrunningrunning ever since-or nearly ever since-I ran before I crawledI ran from dawn to duskAnd sometimes at night she would see my legs still restlessas if I were runningin my sleepthrough my dreams.I tell her not to worrythat I will always come homebecause that is whereI get my start.