ABSTRACT
My father always told me that life is a race; you have to run, and run hard, or else you’ll be overtaken. If you are black, he said, you can’t let yourself be overtaken even once. Today was my day to prove that I was faster and better. We lined up for the 50-yard dash, my best event. I knew Karen was desperate to win, and everyone wanted her to win because she was pretty and popular. “Go!” The light breeze turned to wind against my face. I felt my feet stomping the squishy, almost velvet grass. I ran trancelike for a few blinded seconds, and then, ahead of me, I saw the finish line and I knew I would be there first. As I crossed the line, I heard the other girls thundering in behind me. The onlookers gathered around Karen to console her. In their eyes she should have won, because she was pretty and popular. I had taken the glory meant for someone else. I stood alone, half smiling.
