The Brat Pack

Andrew Clark's white sneakers pound into the pavement. Sweat rings the neckline of his green undershirt. He takes sharp, deep breaths as he continues to run. Off Green onto Delaney. Off Delaney onto Maple. Off Maple onto Newfield.

"You can do it," he says to himself between breaths. "Breathe."

But he can feel himself slowing down. He folds his hands on top of his head as he hops onto the sidewalk from the road. He's only ran half the amount he normally does. Dammit.

His legs are feeling sore. This happens when he pushes himself too hard. And this morning he's definitely pushed it.

Halfway down the block he stops, putting his hands on his knees and shutting his eyes. If his old man was here running with him, he'd be hounding Andy for sure. Thank God Andy left a couple minutes earlier than usual while his dad was in the shower.

Andy stands up fast, looking around. "What the hell?" he mutters to himself.

He feels it. Someone's watching him. Andy knows that feeling from wrestling, when scouts are keeping an eye on him.

Then he sees it. Across the street. Two story white house. Fence surrounding the lawn. Small trees and bushes growing together, forming a barrier between the front and back lawns.

That isn't exactly what's caught his eye though. It's actually the figure in the window upstairs.

Andy gives a small grin, looking around the street before giving a small motion, a come outside wave.

The figure bites its lip, shaking its head. Andy gives a shrug and a small wave, continuing to jog down the sidewalk.

He never saw Allison wave back.