Danny jogged easily down to his starting place. “Ready?” he called.

Lieder, looking annoyed, put his finger to his lips. Then he put his right hand to his watch, looked at Danny, then nodded.

Danny took off at a sprint. A hundred yards wasn’t that much—it’s not as if he had to pace himself. He gave it everything—or at least, everything he had at six-thirty in the morning after a night of no sleep.

When he came parallel to the walkway leading up to Lieder’s door, Danny burst through imaginary tape and then jogged to a stop and faced Lieder expectantly.

“Can you do it again?” asked Lieder.

“Do you want a couple of miles?” asked Danny.

“Just those hundred yards again.”

So Danny jogged back to the starting point, waited for the nod, ran again. This time he let his after-race jog take him up to Lieder’s porch.

“Do I make the track team?” asked Danny.

“On probation,” said Lieder.

“Because I’m only marginally fast?” asked Danny. “Or because you want me to suffer a little for being such an asshole so far this year?”

“Everybody starts out on probation, till I see whether you’ll listen to a coach.”

“So I’m not fast after all?”

“Even the fastest can get better,” said Lieder. “The fast ones are worth the time you spend working with them.”

“Just tell me. Am I any good?”

“You’ll be starting for us,” said Lieder. “Now can I finish my breakfast?”

Danny grinned. “Knock yourself out,” he said.

Lieder closed the door behind him.

As Danny headed back down to the street, Lieder’s door reopened. “Have you had breakfast?”

“I don’t eat breakfast,” said Danny.

“From now on you do,” said Lieder. “My athletes eat.”

“I’m not an athlete,” said Danny. “I’m a runner.”

Lieder stood there, looking angry, but hesitating.

“I have to stay light if I’m going to be fast,” said Danny.

“You’re either on the team or you’re not.” Lieder glanced into the house, then faced Danny again, looking like he wanted a fight after all.

Danny could see that Lieder wanted to yell at him. Something was keeping him quiet. There was someone in the house he didn’t want to wake. Or someone he didn’t want hearing him yell at a kid.