Upchuck said he was coming. Look, he said, there he is. He pointed to a vehicle pulling into the bus parking area at St. Christopher’s.
The vehicle made a U and pulled away.
I do not believe you, I said. Did not Faceplant’s Slack post imply that Handshake was Qing elsewhere this morning, torturing others with his accursed, Apple Watch alarm-inducing Pencil Rolls?
Look, Upchuck said, pointing into the Gloom. Here he comes now, walking with Faceplant.
Silly man, I said, that is not Handshake; can you not see that is Applesauce?
Wait, Upchuck said. He will come. I have even brought spare Implements of Whoa for him to use in strengthening his already prodigious muscles.
At 0530, we performed a set of exercises in the manner of Tabata. We ran a lap on the track.
Handshake did not come.
We performed a second set of exercises in the manner of Tabata, this time using our Implements. Applesauce borrowed the Implements intended for Handshake. We ran another lap.
Handshake did not come.
We performed a third set of exercises in the manner of Tabata. We ran another lap.
Handshake did not come.
Surely, I said, Handshake will not come now. Even Hitchhiker would not show up this late to a workout.
We performed a fourth, fifth and sixth set of exercises in the manner of Tabata. We ran four more laps around the track. Faceplant engaged in jocular discourse with a husband-and-wife pair of runners. He told disjointed story about Handshake being a first-year student at the Virginia Military Institute. We spoke of colleges with simulated airplane cabins and steakhouse dining halls on their campus.
And then it was over.
Shall we go, said Upchuck.
Yes, I said. Let’s go.
We went.
