No Shelter from Darkness by Mark D. Evans Page A

an elbow, and followed her gaze to the corner of the track. It was Susan and her cronies.
    â€œEveryone knows she's gonna win, what with you not running, and all,” said Mary quietly. Beth stretched out her left leg. She ran her finger up the wound. “You're thinking about it, aren't you?” asked Mary.
    Beth shrugged. She put her elbow on her right knee and rubbed her neck, unconsciously tracing the slightly raised and completelysmooth tissue of her topmost scar. “Even if I wanted to, I can't. I'm not in the race.”
    â€œLike I said, you can take my place,” said Mary, her face lighting up.
    â€œMum would kill me. She told me not to.”
    â€œHow's she gonna know?”
    Beth hummed to herself. How would she know? “What if she's right though? What if I still need to rest?”
    A short distance away the announcements were over and Mr. Nichols presented the first race. The younger girls started to line up at the beginning of the track, while the younger boys—Oliver among them—started to group together to the side in waiting.
    â€œHow do you feel?” Mary asked Beth. “I mean you were a bit out of sorts earlier.”
    Beth sat up straight. For the first time that day she was able to answer that question truthfully. “I feel great. Absolutely fine.”
    â€œWell, then,” said Mary with a smile. She stood up and held out her hand for Beth to take. “We'd better get you changed.”
    Beth had the familiar feeling of butterflies in her stomach. She was going against her mother's wishes, and yet, at the same time, was about to do what she loved. It was all heightened by the thought of having the chance to try and take back her imaginary crown from Susan. Smiling, she took Mary's hand and allowed herself to be led away.

    *   *   *

    Beth limped out from the trees as if her plimsolls were full of stones. Mary emerged behind her, so much happier now that she was out of Beth's shorts and in her summer dress instead. With her being only a bit taller than Beth, it was a fairly good fit, though Mary's slighter frame was evident.
    Beth collapsed on the ground and began pulling off the ill-fitting footwear.
    â€œWhat is it?” asked Mary.
    â€œYour shoes are too small.”
    â€œAnd these shoes of yours are a bit roomy.” Mary picked up the discarded plimsolls. “Socks?”
    â€œSocks,” confirmed Beth as she got to her feet, feeling all the more liberated despite the threadbare heels and the odd toe poking out. It wasn't an uncommon sight.
    â€œAt least the shorts suit you.” Mary stifled a chuckle.
    â€œI couldn't believe it when Mum bought them,” said Beth. “Even second-hand, there must've been shorts cut better than these.” A whistle blew, and Beth looked up to see her brother disappear down the track. He was a half decent runner himself, missing out on third place by only a whisker. The older girls started to line up. “Wish me luck,” Beth said back to Mary.
    â€œYou don't need it,” Mary said, starting on her way to the side of the track with the plimsolls and Beth's gas mask in hand.
    Beth stepped up to the starting line and into the one remaining gap, beside the tallest girl. It was Susan Pullen, who glared down at Beth. “What're you doing here?” she asked angrily. “You can't race.” She was almost snarling.
    â€œMary had to drop out, so I thought I'd give it a go.”
    â€œB-but that's not allowed.” Susan turned to the side of the track where Mrs. Humphries stood, and raised her hand. “Miss? Miss.”
    â€œWhat is it?” said the teacher as she walked over. She looked angry and flustered that something might not be going according to plan. “What's so important you need to make a scene?”
    â€œMiss, it's her,” Susan pointed a thumb toward Beth without looking. “She's not allowed to race.”
    â€œElizabeth?” The