Don’t pass him. Lock on and follow his pace.” Me? I glanced at my watch and tapped in my pace. Guys were gathering behind me on the track. There m...st have been fifty of them. “Go!” Jock yelled. I took off, hitting my six-minute stride in a few seconds. I wondered if Jock was sure I could hold this pace after being gone all summer.Four laps and about half the followers were more than a hundred yards behind me. Of course, the real athletes—many I knew from last year—were running stride-for-stride. And if he ever did call, there was no way I was going to answer. I was going to make him sweat it out just as much as I was. The second an unkown number showed up on my phone, I was going to ignore it, and make him leave a message. I was not going to be treated like — my musings were interrupted by my ringing and buzzing cell phone on my counter top. My heart jumped into my throat and I ran over to see who it was. It was a 617 number I didn’t have saved in my phone or recognize. Oh my God, it. More

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