What had been a relatively boisterous afternoon at the track and field tryouts suddenly became quiet when race time approached. Enkidu went to the starting line and stretched. Four other girls took their positions alongside her. She sized them up and felt pretty confident, felt that surge of you got this energy.

No one knew that this red-headed orphan girl was about to change the city of Babylon forever.

Then everyone—the competitors, the scouts, the captains, the coach, the world—stopped and watched as the infamous Glenda Mesh came walking across the field toward the starting line.

One of the other girls said quietly, "Guess we’re only racing for second place," and another said, "She's just here to see her competition," and the first girl said, "Competition? We’re running for the same team," and the other girl said, "Glenda Mesh is on her own team."

Glenda was gorgeous, fiercely engaged like a torpedo, angelic in her zenlike intensity. Enkidu felt the atmosphere shift when she arrived. She carried the weight of her infamy like jewelry, ignorant but also reveling in the attention, focused on the race and the power she held over her audience. Enkidu couldn't stop staring. Her heart was racing, maybe in anticipation of the race, or maybe because looking at Glenda was like looking at a work of art, breathtaking and bewildering. 

Anzu was standing nearby. He gave a thumbs up. 

Enkidu almost forgot where she was or what she was doing. 

The starting gun fired.

One girl got off to a bad start, a little stumble, and Enkidu already knew that girl would not regain what she had lost. Then there was the blonde girl, who was keeping the same exact pace as Enkidu, but Blondie was slapping the track too hard with her steps, which would wear her out sooner. The short-haired girl ahead of her was probably set to run a five-thirty mile. A worthy contender. Then there was Glenda, who burst into the lead at an inhuman, impossible pace, cheetah speeds compared to the others. 

Enkidu ran her best. She put all she had into those four laps. 

Her brain hurt trying to understand how Glenda was able to run a mile in four-ten as if she were out for a light jog on the beach. She lapped one girl. Enkidu gradually increased her pace after every lap, but she’d started too slow to ever have a real chance. She crossed the line at five-twenty, a personal best, but a full seventy seconds slower than Glenda. It was baffling. She never would’ve thought it was possible to run like that, less like a human and more like a machine. Her pace didn't falter at all as if she were on cruise control. 

After the race, Enkidu gulped down a bottle of water and meandered the field with her hands atop her head, trying to regain her breath. She’d gotten second place, but it felt more like a loss than second place had ever felt before, seeing now the gap between where she was and where she’d need to be. 

She overheard a lot of different snippets of conversation as she meandered, and all of it was hush-hush about Glenda. She stole my boyfriend. She stole my girlfriend. She cheats on every test. She sleeps with every teacher. She litters. She lies. She’s evil. 

The way Glenda walked around the field, it was like the big bad wolf waltzing around scaring all the little piggies into their huts. She didn’t talk to anyone but the coach, with whom it appeared she got along swimmingly with. Enkidu couldn’t help but watch her, the way a film crew might watch a rare wild animal in its natural element, drawn to the feminine sway of her hips, the purpose put into every move and gesture. 

Enkidu quickly disliked her. 

Sure it was from hearing all the negative rumors about her, and probably it had to do with how much better of a runner she was, but simply watching Glenda be Glenda was enough to irritate Enkidu. Glenda buzzed around like a wasp. People flinched when she was near. She would go to a group of friends and take over their conversation and leave them all looking glum. She would come to a happy hand-holding couple and squeeze between them, whisper into the boyfriend's ear, and then waltz away with the boy like he was a plaything to be borrowed, leaving the girlfriend speechless and alone. She and Anzu crossed paths at one point and she stuck out her foot and tripped him. So immature. So callous. Enkidu watched her with clenched fists, anger rising within like boiling oil. 

She went and helped Anzu up. 

"Beat her," he said, with startling intensity. "If anyone can do it, it's you."

"Why is she even here?”

“She’s stroking her own ego. Making sure these new runners know who’s the best on the team.” Anzu noticed his track shorts had mud on them and groaned. 

Enkidu said, “She really is a monster, isn’t she?”

“If you can’t beat her, at least make her nervous.”

Enkidu nodded. It was time for the last race. She got into position for the eight-hundred-meter dash: two laps around the track, nearly at full sprint. One of the hardest races to be good at, but Enkidu knew what she was up against, knew what her body had to do. She stretched and listened for the starting gun.

Glenda was in the lane next to her. 

Ready. Set. Go.