The Last Lap
The whistle blew, and the eight runners shot off the starting line. Jonah ran with his teeth clenched, because he was the best runner on the Hillside team and he had never lost the mile.
Halfway through the third lap, a new boy named Eli moved up beside him. Eli had joined the team only a week ago, and he ran with an easy stride, as if the race were a walk in the park.
Jonah dug in and pulled ahead while the crowd cheered his name. But on the last lap, he heard footsteps getting closer again. His legs burned and his breath came in gasps. At the final curve, Eli passed him on the outside and crossed the finish line first.
Jonah slowed to a walk and stared at the ground. His eyes stung. He did not want to be a sore loser, but he did not feel like smiling either.
Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. "That was the hardest race I have ever run," Eli said, still panting. "I only caught up because I was chasing you the whole way, and I never ran this fast before."
Jonah looked up. He had been so angry about losing that he had not thought about what his running had done for someone else. A small smile crept across his face.
"Next time, I will have to run even faster," he said, and the two boys shook hands.