And so, Argus was the first one on the field after school, getting there even before Coach Quinn. Like the others, who began arriving a few minutes later, Argus wore a pair of red Redstone Secondary School shorts and a white Redstone T-shirt, both adorned with the Redstone Warriors logo (a stately representation of a Haida warrior, with a mountain over his right shoulder).

By the time Coach Quinn walked onto the field, the two dozen runners from the different grades were stretching and limbering up in anticipation of the run. Argus looked them all over carefully, dismissing the runners from the younger grades, then dismissing the rest because they were too fat, too skinny, or just plain goofy looking.

“Well, well, well,” said Coach Quinn. “Argus Brock. I thought you weren’t allowed on any school teams.”

Argus smiled, flattered that Coach Quinn knew his name and some of his story.

“That was football, Coach. The ranger, I mean, my dad…” Argus disliked using the word because the ranger was not his father, but people asked too many questions when he called the ranger anything else, “said I can’t play any contact sports. But running’s an individual thing, right?”

“Well,” the coach said, hesitating, “this is the cross-country running team, but yes, you’re basically on your own.”

“Then I can do it?”

“Okay, I’m happy to have you on the team.” He turned to face the others. “I’m happy to have all of you on the team.”

The students came closer together, gathering around the coach.

“Unlike the other teams at Redstone Secondary, everyone who comes out to practice is on the cross-country team. All of you will be running at the races we compete in. So how well you do in this sport is up to you. I can help you with your breathing, and maybe some technique, but it basically comes down to how hard you work and how determined you are to improve yourself in the short time we have.”

Everyone seemed buoyed by the coach’s words.

None of the runners looked all that athletic to Argus and he imagined he could beat any of them in a race, easy. His problem, he figured, was how to win by just enough so as not to make anyone else look bad. He’d have to stay up to the leaders til near the end, then turn it on at the finish.

“All I ask is that you do your best,” the coach continued. “The running season is short, and there’s no point in coming out if you don’t give it your all.” A pause. “All right?”

“Yeah!” most of the runners said in unison, sprinkled with “All right!” and “Let’s go, guys!”

“Now I’ll show you our training course.”