in case she tried to pounce again. Although part of me wanted to let her.
Bella shifted her weight onto one leg and put her hands on her hips. “Whatever. I have to give it to you four, you have balls. What do you think, girls? Can a ditz, a slut, a fatty, and a freak beat us?”
Drew threw her head back with a fake laugh and nudged the other two when they didn’t laugh quickly enough.
Bella laughed, too, dabbing the corners of her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m hilarious.”
I glared at them. “It doesn’t matter who finishes first today. Even if you win, you’ll still be no better than a swarm of mosquitoes. Vicious and small with tiny brains, and at the end of the day, just a passing nuisance.”
She huffed. “You’re so weird. We’ll see you at the finish line. I hope you brought cash.”
They turned with clichéd flips of their hair and sauntered away.
A new sensation spread through me, overtaking my nerves. Resolve. I was going to beat those awful women, even if it killed me.
“I think I need to go back to rage yoga,” Nora said, straightening. Everly and I let go of her and she raised both middle fingers at their backs.
“Nice double fist unicorns,” Sophie said. “They’re the worst.”
“This might not provide much consolation, but their unnecessarily antagonistic behavior indicates a deep dissatisfaction with their own lives.” I crossed my arms. “But I still say we bury them.”
“Oh, we’re going to.” Sophie tightened her ponytail. “I might not be able to walk for a week after this, but I’m winning.”
“It’s a worthy sacrifice,” Everly said. “I’m all in.”
Nora narrowed her eyes and smiled. “Let’s show those bitches what we’re made of.”
The noise and energy intensified as the last minute before the start ticked down. A huge banner with the Soggy Seattle Half-Marathon logo and the word Start in block letters spanned the street in front of us, and an enormous digital timer awaited the signal. We wore bands on our ankles that would begin recording our time when we ran over mats at the starting line, and they’d stop when we crossed the finish.
The bet would be won or lost by our individual times. We’d set a goal of averaging ten-minute miles. It wasn’t terribly fast, but maintaining that pace over the full thirteen point one miles would be a challenge. I just hoped it would be enough to beat the Bedazzled Bitches.
With ten seconds to start, the crowd started counting down, the loud chant growing. My heart beat rapidly and a renewed rush of nerves made my stomach jumpy. My friends stood on either side of me, leaning forward, wearing matching expressions of fierce determination.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
A sharp bang filled the air and a cheer rose up from the crowd. The competitive runners in front were off, and the rest of us began moving toward the start.
It took a full minute before our section made it to the start banner. We clasped hands as we approached the start line. Our feet hit rubber, our ankle bands activated, and we were off.
As soon as we reached the pavement on the other side of the starting line, my anxiety disappeared. I still felt the buzz of adrenaline flooding my system, but running gave me something to do with all that energy.
The crowd was thick, so we dodged around knots of people, looking for more open space so we could set our pace. I kept an eye on my Fitbit, making sure we didn’t start off too fast. I’d read that one of the common mistakes first-time distance runners made was to push their pace too hard in the beginning. The increased adrenaline and excitement of the race could make you feel unnaturally confident and energetic. But you risked burning out before the end. We were running faster than planned, but we could ease up once we found a more comfortable space among the crowd.
Peacock Man was ahead of us, his fan of feathers bouncing with his stride. It was oddly hypnotic. An elderly man with wispy white hair ran by. The back of his shirt said I’m 85 and I just passed you.
That made me smile.
By the time we reached the first mile marker, the crowd had spread out. The four of us were able to run two by two, me and Nora in front, Everly and Sophie behind us. We’d finished the first mile in under nine minutes. Tempting as it was to push hard now, we