Dead Running by Cami Checketts Page B

still boring and my boss is a jerk, but we closed a huge loan today and I’ll be getting a fat check next week.”
    Nana arched an eyebrow, she didn’t care about money any more than my parents had. “Well,” she said, “‘bettering yourself’ is one thing, but you had better not be running this marathon to lose weight.”
    “That’s just a side bonus,” I said. I looked from Tasha’s questioning gaze to Nana’s disbelieving stare. “Really. This isn’t for a man. This isn’t to get skinnier. I’m running a marathon because I want to do it. Because I want to prove I can do it.”
    Nana and Tasha locked gazes. “Uh-huh,” Tasha muttered.
    I hated when they did that, acted like I couldn't accomplish anything. I shoved my barely-touched meatloaf into the garbage, ignoring Nana’s gasp of outrage. “Plus, I didn’t tell you but I think I’ve found a gym that wants to partner with me on my small personal training groups.”
    “That’s good,” Tasha said. “I wish you’d focus on that and forget about this marathon.”
    “But the marathon is part of that.” The part where I believe in myself and accomplish my goals. “Remember Rocky?” I asked, wishing for their support though I probably wouldn’t get it. “Remember how cool it was to see him conquer himself? Push himself so hard you thought he was going to break?”
    “Uh-huh,” Tasha said again, still sharing some sort of silent conversation with Nana.
    I jabbed a finger to my chest. “I’m Rocky.”
    I beamed at how well I’d put that. I was Rocky. I was going to triumph over myself and gain the confidence to start working as an exercise scientist again.
    “Uh-huh,” Tasha murmured for the third time.
    “Use real words,” I snapped irritably. “Why can’t I be Rocky?”
    “You can be anything you want.” Tasha turned to retrieve more dishes.  
    Nana rolled her eyes and started scrubbing at baked-on meat loaf.
    “Nana?” I paused for a few seconds, hoping she’d glance at me.
    “Yes, you can be Rocky.”
    “No.” I shifted from one foot to the other, a plate clutched between my fingers. “I have another question.” I waited for her to look up.
    “Spit it out.”
            I gulped, obviously I wouldn’t have her full attention and this question needed it. But I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Are my mom and dad still alive?”
    The casserole dish slipped from Nana’s fingertips, clanking into the glass cups in the sink. Soapy water spewed onto the tile backsplash and Nana’s cotton shirt. Nana spun from the mess. For half a second shock and disbelief poured from her eyes. But then her face softened into the wrinkles I liked, the ones that hid her scowl and showed she was concerned about her granddaughter. “Why would you ask that, sweetheart?”
    I shrugged and looked down at the chipped linoleum. Warmth from Nana embarrassed me, she usually only called Tasha and Tate sweetheart. “Just missing them, I guess.”
    Nana’s soft arms surrounded me. I set the plate on the counter, leaned against her wet shirt, and sighed. Water poured into the plugged sink, a few more seconds and we’d really have a mess, but I couldn’t leave Nana’s embrace to prevent it.
    Tasha looked like she’d rather be anywhere but in Nana’s kitchen watching her best friend’s display of sadness. She reached behind us and shut off the tap then turned to study the pictures of Jared and Tate on the fridge.
    “I understand,” Nana said. “I miss them too.” Nana rocked me for a few seconds.
    “Would it be crazy to tell you that I’m kind of doing this marathon for them? Raquel told me she thought they’d be proud of me for accomplishing something big. For not quitting.” I sniffled and continued, “I really like the sound of that.”
    Nana kissed my forehead. “I think that’s the best reason I’ve heard yet.”
    She released me and hustled back to dinner cleanup. It wasn’t until I climbed into bed that I realized