We stood in silence for a moment. Then I spoke. “I have him in my English class. He seems bright. A little overwhelmed, but bright.”

“Yes. Well. He’ll have to find his feet quickly if he wants to succeed here. He’s struggling a bit in my Latin One as well.”

There was a peculiar edge to his voice. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I fell silent again. Just as I began to feel uncomfortable, Jon came running over. “Jerry, Jerry, you’re not gonna believe this kid’s time, it’s amazing. His first meet, he’s running six-, six-and-a-half minute miles. It’s unbelievable.”

“Six minutes?”

“I’m telling you, six minutes or so. He’ll probably slow down a little, but he’s gonna be back here soon. You won’t believe it.” He stopped and suddenly noticed me standing there. “Oh, hi. Jana, right? English Department?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but we got ourselves this amazing kid. Wait’ll you see.”

We all turned toward the finish line, where a cheer was starting. Rashid came in, yards ahead of his nearest competitor, arms pumping, breath even, his feet seeming barely to touch the ground. His face betrayed his strain, but his body didn’t in any way. He looked like he was floating. All of a sudden, an older, bigger boy from the other school put on a great burst of speed, one that looked like it cost him his last ounce of strength, and passed a surprised Rashid at the tape. But that didn’t diminish Jerome’s or Jon’s excitement. “19:30. Oh, my God. Can you believe this, Jerry? Let’s get over to that kid. Holy cow.”

They moved off quickly and, curious, not even sure why I was doing it, I followed them. Rashid was finishing a cool-down lap by the time they reached him. He looked at both men, his eyes sad and a little fearful. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that guy came from. I really thought I had it. I’m really sorry, Mr. Sasser.”

Jon laughed. “Don’t even worry about it. We can work on your finish. Do you know the time you just ran?”

“No. Was it okay?”

“Okay? Tell him, Jerry. Tell him.”

Jerome smiled slightly. “It was the best time I’ve ever seen for a boy’s first race, Mr. Bryson. Nice work.”

Rashid looked from one man to the other, then at me, a little surprised, but he gave me a big smile. The look he gave Jerome was odd—a little angry I thought, although I suppose I could have imagined it. Then he smiled again and said, “Well, I’m glad. I feel all right.”

“You should,” said Jon. “Come on. Get your sweats on.”

The three of us watched him go. Jerome spoke first. “I hope that he can live up to his potential. Often it’s quite difficult.”