Running My Own Race

Dad's favourite film is Dead Poets Society. Sure, he likes others, but when he wants to chill with me on the sofa at the weekend and there's no football on TV, it's almost guaranteed that he'll suggest we watch it. I'm not that bothered about the old movie but I love spending time with Dad, eating spicy plantain crisps and drinking Coke. So, even though half of the film goes over my head, I know some of the lines by heart. Like, "Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys, make your lives extraordinary." That's what the teacher says to the boys in the movie.

Dad whispered, "Carpe diem," to me this morning as he hugged me tight before he left for work, his goatee brushing against my cheek. I know what he was getting at. He was telling me to seize the day, 'cause today is the day I start Nunford School.

The mega-expensive private school offers a full scholarship to a couple of state-school children every year starting in Year Seven. Mum wanted Abigail to do the scholarship exams when she was younger, but she refused. She and Mum argued about it for ages, but Abigail dug her heels in. She's always been able to stand up to Mum - which is amazing because I can't. Not at all!

"It's my life and I don't want to go to that snooty school," she'd say.

Mum would reply, "Who cares if it's snooty! You're Black. You need the best education you can get to compete in the real world."

But Abigail wouldn't budge, so Mum had no choice but to allow her to go to St Vincent, the local secondary. Now that Abigail is about to start sixth form, she and Mum are arguing again because Mum wants her to go to university, but Abigail is having none of it. She says she wants to be earning ASAP! She has an offer for an engineering apprenticeship with a big company where she did a summer job this year. They've offered her a place as long as she gets good grades in her A levels. I'm sure she'll do that because she's clever . unlike me. Dad is proud of Abigail for going into engineering, but he barely says anything when Mum is going on and on. He once told me that he stays quiet so that Mum doesn't give him wahala. I get that. That's why I stay quiet too. And that's why I'm going to Nunford School today, even though I'm really not sure I'll like it there.

It was such a shock when I found out that I'd been given one of the scholarships. Sure, I sat the exam last year because Mum insisted on it. But when I was called for an interview with Mr Fortesque, the headteacher, it was an absolute nightmare until I mentioned I'd love to be a professional athlete.

"Doing what?" Mr Fortesque asked straight away, looking me dead in the eye.

"Running," I said quietly, wondering why he was so interested.

I don't even know why I brought it up. I've never talked about wanting to run professionally to anyone - not Abigail, Dad or Mum. I'm afraid they'll think it's silly and try to change my mind, especially Mum. She thinks running is something you do when you're playing. But Mr Fortesque seemed to take me seriously because next thing I knew, he'd called Mr Dunn, the Head of Sports, to come and meet me. I was taken to the school's athletics track, which blew my mind. I swear down, it was a mini stadium, right there in the school field! Mr Dunn gave me a spare Nunford PE kit that was way too baggy, and black spikes that were a little tight. He told me to run around the track twice.

When he blew his whistle, it felt weird running in a kit that wasn't my own and being watched by someone with a timer in his hand. But as I sped up, everything faded away apart from the happy, tingling feeling inside. I love running. When I run, something happens to me that I can't fully explain. It's like I'm free and floating on air like . a super-fast superhero. It feels amazing! I could have run forever on the Nunford school track. It was so much better than any surface I'd run on before. I had to stop when Mr Dunn blew his whistle, and that's when he said something which, all this time later, still makes me smile.

"You are good. Very good, in fact."

I was ECSTATIC! It was the first time someone had said that to me about my running.

A couple of months after that, a letter from the school arrived offering me the scholarship. Dad looked at me with shiny eyes. He said, "You did it, son," and squeezed me tight. Abigail gave me a funny look and a nod - like I'd gone up in her estimation. Mum shouted, "Thank you, God!" She made sure she told all our friends and family the news.

Then the local paper heard about it and a journalist came to interview me in the flat with Mum and Dad, which was a bit nerve-wracking. The journalist told us that I was the first person from Exby to ever get a scholarship to Nunford School. When the article was published in the paper with a photograph and everything, I became famous in Exby. Well, for a while anyway. Our friends, people from church and just random strangers would stop me in the street and shake my hand.

"You've made us proud," they would say.

"How?" I said to Mum. "I haven't even started the school yet! Why are they putting pressure on me?"

"Pressure? They're proud of you because you've got an opportunity that people around here don't dream of getting."

I let it go. I didn't want another Mum lecture on why it's important to want to become Somebody.

On Saturday, a few weeks later, when I was lounging on the sofa watching Sports Roundup on TV, Mum walked into the living room with a sheet of paper in her hand.

"Nunford School has sent more information about the scholarship," she said, standing in front of the TV with a frown on her face. "They say you must attend athletics club and try for the athletics team."

My heart skipped a beat. "Seriously?" I said, sitting up.

"Yes, it says here that it's a condition of your scholarship. Typical! Expecting Black children to only be good at sports."

I kept my face blank but inside I was doing my happy dance. I must have got the scholarship because of my run! Apart from my best mate, Charlie, I hadn't told anyone about my run at Nunford School. Not even when Mum fired questions at me when she came to pick me up that day. I wanted to enjoy the memory in peace without anyone ruining it for me.

"It also says you have to maintain good grades," said Mum. "That I agree with. It's the most important thing. Don't worry about the running."

I wasn't worried about the running. I was buzzing! When Mum left, I sat grinning, thinking Mr Dunn must really rate me. For a moment, I actually looked forward to going to Nunford School. Then I remembered that going there meant going to school without Charlie. We've been mates since he started Exby Primary in Year Three.

I know he wishes I was going to St Vincent with him. I mean, he hasn't come out and said it or anything. But all summer, he's been banging on about how I'm going to change and become all posh. I've told him a bunch of times that I won't.

But even on Friday, as we played Mario Kart on his Nintendo Switch in him and his mum's flat, he said I won't want to know him once I have fancy new friends.

"Bruv," I said. "There's as much chance of that as there is of me getting tall like you."

That made him laugh. "Zero chance then."

"Exactly," I said.

That was three days ago. Today, I woke up to my stomach doing somersaults. I told Mum my tummy wasn't too good, but she insisted I eat the full English breakfast she had specially cooked for me to give me strength for my big day. I couldn't say no when she'd gone to so much trouble. But eating it was so not a good idea. My insides are now spinning around like a washing machine. I just pray I don't throw up. It wouldn't be a good look to have sick down my front when I start at Nunford.

* * *

Mum and I have just got on the jam-packed 304 bus to Nunford. Mum's leading the way, squeezing past people in the aisle as we look for somewhere to sit. Among the children on the bus, I can't see anyone else wearing the Nunford school uniform. The bus is full of chat. And a bit too warm. It's a good thing I left my new coat at home - I already have a jumper and a blazer on - I'd be boiling by now.