At the championship, a hard question would at least have stayed on the page while she considered it.
Here, every pause had a cost.
She thought about the work she had done through the year and felt the disappointment arrive before the opportunity was completely gone.
Her eyes stung, and she was glad the rain made it difficult to tell.
Eleanor had enough to worry about without feeling required to comfort her too.
Skye did not want the older woman to believe she was being blamed for the weather or the missed minutes.
When she answered, she kept the words simple because that was all she could manage while pushing.
She could admit that something mattered to her without making Eleanor feel like an obstacle.
The two of them were caught in the same bad morning, even though the things they stood to lose were different.
Eleanor watched her struggle with the wheelbarrow.
“Why are you still helping me?”
“You still need help.”
It was a simple answer, but it did not mean the decision was painless.
Skye wanted to be at the competition.
She wanted a dry desk, a problem sheet, and the chance to discover how well she could do.
She also could not leave Eleanor stranded because the timing was unfair.
Eleanor warned her once more.
“You’ll miss it.”
Skye looked at her watch, then back at the road.
“I already did.”
She believed that completely.
Nothing about the morning offered her a promise that kindness would return the opportunity she had lost.
She kept going anyway.
After saying she had already missed it, Skye stopped checking her watch so often.
The disappointment was no longer something she could bargain with by moving a little faster.
It had happened, as far as she knew.
That made the next part of the journey strangely clearer.
There was still a person in the wheelbarrow, still rain, still the work of getting through the street.
She could direct her effort toward what remained possible rather than measuring what she believed had been lost.
Eleanor did not offer her a promise that everything would turn out well.
