the 800.

a story by Rain Rainwater.

BAM!

The gun goes off. The blank leaving residual smoke and a ringing in my ears as my left foot pushes off the orange polyurethane ground.

I see Harry to the side watching me. His deeply toned freckles are visible against his pale skin even though dusk is approaching. The 800 meters is one of the last events. My heart is pounding from the anxiety of my advanced algebra test tomorrow and the gun going off definitely didn’t help in that department. It’s rumored that this test is the hardest one the 7th graders at my school have to take—especially the advanced section. I know Harry has studied for it because he was telling me how to work a problem earlier on our way to the meet. He had cum all over my face in the bathroom across from the art room and while I was washing off, he told me to sit next to him in class so I can get the answers I won’t know. He was smart. Like really smart. He’s done the summer programs at Yale twice because he’s so smart.

y = 2x − 2 y

If then solve for x.

During the first 400 meters, Peter races ahead with David trailing him. They’re the fastest runners on our team—borderline 8th grade olympians. Some kid from another school is right next to David, and I’m a few paces behind. Peter and David are so fast. It’s like watching gazelles bound down the Sahara just because they could. Every step that gains a distance between me and the other runners.

The stadium lights turn on as I round the corner on the latter half of the first lap. Perfect. I will actually be able to see Harry’s face when I come back around. A motive to pick up the pace. All of a sudden, Tyler, a kid from my summer camp, passes me. “Faggot.”

Tyler was always a mean kid, but he for some reason was nice to me. I think he kept me around because I was a good runner and was one of the better wide-receivers during flag football. He always picked me to be on his team during capture the flag because together, we could out-sprint pretty much anyone except the counselors. Our record was an impressive 9/10. Only losing once because the game was rigged for the other campers. This past summer, he had pulled me into the bathroom stall with him to watch him pee. Tyler was also one of those kids at camp that everyone wants to be. Blond hair whipped around his head shaping his beautifully carved jaw and cheekbones that could cut glass. His blue eyes were an entrance to the sky, and I felt like I was flying when he looked at me. He’s obviously going to be a model when he grows up. But it was more than just his looks. He was easily one of the leading athletes at camp. During archery, he never struggled to pull back the bow and he hit the target every time. He was one of the only kids who reached the top of the rock climbing tower this past summer, and he was always picked to be the quarterback. He had a strong arm and was one of the quickest thinkers on the field. It helped that his dad was the local high school’s Varsity coach. Tyler had just called me a faggot passing me on the track. I was utterly dumbstruck in that moment, almost having to stop my light jog to catch the breath that had been yanked out of me. That’s so not fair. We went pee together this summer multiple times because he said it was what guys do. He told me to help him aim, and now he’s the one calling me a faggot?

His uniform does look really good on him, though. The red and gold emphasizing his flushed cheeks and blond hair sweatily pulled back. He was a dream. He gets a couple meters ahead of me before lodging up a loogie into the air. It lands perfectly on my cheek with the help of an angel that came in and guided it along its arc to the bullseye invisibly placed on my face.

Did no one see that?! He just spit on me and no one saw anything? This has to be a joke. I get to the end of the first lap, Harry is still watching me. His face is chubbier in this lighting. No shadows to hide the baby fat he hasn’t completely outgrown, but his freckles are more pronounced in this glowing fluorescent field. His black hair matted from the sweat induced by the mid-April warm cold. His uniform doesn’t do him any favors, but that’s okay. I like the way it falls over his stomach and the way I can see his birthmark on his upper thigh taunting to move my eyes upward. He doesn’t smile or wave or anything. He just watches. I give hima wink, but he looks away shunning me back into the race I almost forgot about.

At this point, I am cleanly in the middle. Five people are in front of me including Peter in first, David in second, the random dude trailing David the whole time, some other random kid followed by Tyler. Behind me is a bunch of weirdos that don’t care about being there. Out of the people that give a fuck, I’m in dead last which is so annoying. I don’t even think the other random kid in front of me cares!! I have got to pick up the pace.

First I have to separate the y’s and the x’s to figure out how to solve this. Divide the 2 so I can start to simplify this thing.

y/2 = 1 − x y

The sun has gone into the trees now and a breeze blows. Tyler is slowing down a little which is good because I’m faster than him. He just wants to prove himself or something. I take an extended breath in through my nose and my senses are flooded. I can smell the all too familiar scent of sweat coming from behind him and the bottle of Axe body spray he bathed himself in back in the guest locker room. It’s the same one he wore at camp. The same one he sprayed on me after kissing me in the bathroom. The same one he told me he would get me the following day because he likes the smell of it and wants me to smell like him.

The problem looks so much simpler, and the easy part is that 1 to the power of anything is automatically 1. So if that’s the case then:

y/2 = 1 − x y

Wait… This is kind of easy. I take another deep breath and let the air fill my lungs to their maximum capacity. This time though, it doesn’t smell like Axe body spray. I look to my left. Tyler and I are running side by side. He looks at me and scowls beforegearing up to spit at me again. This biological warfare is getting a little much for me, so I trip him. While tripping him he claws at me trying to bring me down with him, but I pick up my pace and start galloping down the rubber road ahead. Serves him right. I’m faster than him, and he better not forget it, even if he does have something to prove. Peter, David, and that rando are already rounding the final curve about 50 meters ahead of me. My only possible goal of getting further ahead is to chase down this little nobody in front of me. I let out my final sprint early and book it down the curve. I hear Tyler behind me yelling some obscenities that only he and I can hear over the roaring of the stands.

I finally take in my next opponent. He is probably 5’3” but running like a full grown man trying to escape his wife’s wrath. It’s nothing short of unbelievable. I watch his arms pump back and forth building friction underneath them like that will help him grow armpit hair. I match his rhythm knowing that my size alone should be enough to get me on par with him and make up the 10 meter distance between us. I hear my dad in the bleachers screaming at me to kick some ass. It’s a middle school track meet, Dad, but okay?

Ok so if I add the one to the other side, then that will only leave one thing left right? y/2 − 1 = − x y

I pass the runner in between me and the elite. I cross the finish line in 4th place, but was nowhere near fast enough to qualify for states. I look over at Harry. He is no longer there. I look around at the events about to take place and see the shot-putters lining up. Harry is among them stretching his arms that were made for the trombone and robotics. He shouldn’t have signed up for shot-put. He’s too weak. I hear the pounding of sneakers on the track behind me as the other racers finish and hear the joyous results of not making it to states. They didn’t care anyway.

And now I have to divide a negative y? Easy enough.

−y/2y + 1/y = x

But that feels so complicated.

I go to the locker room to get out my notes and see if I solved the problem right. That, and I really got to take a piss. Green lockers line the space and the smell of pubescent liberty intoxicates the perverted walls that watch and listen to all that happens there. I’m using the bathroom before getting my bag when the door opens behind me. Tyler walks in. Weird, maybe he just got confused and went to the wrong locker room. I’m the home team and he’s the guest. I’m standing at the urinal letting the last of my pee drip out. I flush and turn to see him right behind me.

“You fucked me up,” He says.

“You called me a faggot.”

“You are a faggot”

“You spit on me”

“You liked it.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Oh yah? You like it now though.”

He spits on me. Only this time. It felt different. It didn’t feel mean per se.

“See? You like it.”

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing if you like being spit on.”

“No one likes being spit on.”

“You do. And I like spitting on you.”

He grabs my mouth forcing it open and spits into it. It’s gross and sticky and thickly dehydrated. It tastes like dirt. He kisses me. This time leading my hand to his crotch. He is forceful and lacks any quality of grace and servitude. When I let myself give into it, he lets go and slaps me across the face.

“Don’t think for a moment I’m going to forgive you. I was going to make state, but you fucked me up, faggot. And now I’m going to fuck you up.”

He grabs my freshly hard dick and yanks on it bringing me to my knees. I haven’t even washed my hands yet.

The door opens and the sound of footsteps echo through the chamber of grievances. Tyler bolts away and I am left on my knees in the bathroom when Harry walks in.

How do you simplify this?

−y/2y + 1/y = x

It looks so busy and it’s not the full right answer, but I don’t know what comes after it. Did I even start it right? Let’s see if I simplify the y out of the first fraction,

then does that mean I still have the y in the second fraction? Wait. Yes. Because it would look more like:

(−y + 1)/2y = x

Wait that's still not right. Harry is the perfect person to walk in right now! I need his help!

Harry walks over to me. Sees me on my knees. Doesn’t say a word and takes his cock out.

7th grade math is way too difficult.