Excerpted from Thirst: 2,600 Miles to Home (2019, Mountaineers Books)
Michigan, May 1992
“How far did you run, Anderson?” my fifth-grade gym teacher barked, looking up from his notebook with a pen poised.
I sucked wind and tried to answer without gasping.
“All eight laps.”
I was a sweaty, hot mess. Most of the other kids were already heading back toward the brick school building, having finished the two-mile run in far less than the 50 minutes we had for gym. My two best friends were waiting for me by the chain-link fence and probably had been for at least 15 minutes.
“No, you didn’t.”
I stared at him in horror.
“What?”
“You didn’t. Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not! I ran all eight!”
“Get out of my sight.”
Hot tears ran down my flushed face as I hurried to catch my friends. He didn’t believe me! It had been the hardest thing I’d ever done…and he didn’t believe me. I knew it was because I
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