The Race with Room for Two a personalized book with your child as the hero

Avery had saved a space on the bedroom shelf. Not a very big space. Just wide enough for the first-place ribbon from school sports day. There was no ribbon there yet, but Avery could picture it: blue, shiny and won by a pair of very quick feet. At breakfast, Avery asked for another short running practice. Sports day was only three sleeps away.

On the school field, Teacher Jo led a warm-up. The children walked, jogged gently and lifted their knees in a marching game. Avery liked the part when marching became a bouncy little jog. Beside Avery, Kit made a cheerful puffing sound. They were friends, but on sports day they would be in the same race. Avery was already wondering whose shoes would reach the finish first.

Jo showed everyone a standing start. One foot waited a little ahead of the other, knees soft, body leaning forward just a little. Nobody needed starting blocks. They listened for the whistle before moving. Avery tried so hard to be first that one foot slipped over the line before the sound. Back Avery went, cheeks warm. “Waiting is part of starting,” Jo said. Avery nodded and tried again.

This time Avery waited. Peep! Arms pumped backwards and forwards, hands loose instead of squeezed into fists. Avery looked towards the far cone, rather than sideways at Kit. The start felt quick and balanced. After each short run came a walk and a rest. By Thursday, Avery could wait for the signal even with an excited feeling bouncing inside. The empty shelf seemed to be waiting too.

Sports day arrived with sunshine and the smell of newly cut grass. White lines made straight lanes across the field. At the finish line, two adults held a light paper finish tape. There was plenty of space afterwards for slowing down. Avery checked that both shoelaces were tied. Kit took a drink of water, then held the bottle out towards the bag of waiting bottles. “Good luck,” Kit said. “You too,” said Avery.

At the start, Avery's tummy felt full of tiny jumping beans. Jo reminded the children to keep to their lanes, leave room for one another and run through the finish line before slowing down. Avery placed one foot behind the start mark and bent both knees. The shelf flashed into Avery's thoughts. A ribbon would look so good there. The whistle sounded. Avery pushed off.

The grass flickered beneath Avery's shoes. Arms pumping, eyes ahead. Just as practised. Kit ran in the next lane, almost level. For a few wonderful steps Avery could hear nothing but feet and breathing. Then came a soft thud. Kit had caught a toe in the grass and fallen. No one had pushed. Kit sat up, startled, with grass stuck to one palm.

Avery's legs took another stride. The finish tape fluttered ahead. Other runners were going past. If Avery kept running, there might still be a chance. Avery looked back at Kit's face. The choice felt bigger than the whole field. Then Avery slowed, stopped and turned around. The ribbon would have to wait. A friend was sitting on the grass.

Jo was already coming over. Avery crouched beside Kit, with enough space for Jo to check what had happened. “I'm here,” Avery said. Kit blinked hard. “That surprised me.” Jo checked that Kit was all right and asked whether anything hurt. Kit shook their head and wanted to stand. Avery offered an open hand. Kit took it for balance and pushed up with their own legs. There was no pulling or rushing.

They stood quietly for a moment. Kit tested a comfortable step while Jo stayed close. “Would you like to finish, or have a rest?” Jo asked. Kit looked towards the line. “Finish. Slowly.” Avery nodded. “Together?” Kit squeezed the offered hand. Together. They began walking, keeping clear of the other runners. Avery matched Kit's short, careful steps instead of trying to hurry them.

The winner had already broken the paper tape. An adult held the loose ends safely to one side. Avery and Kit crossed the white finish line shoulder to shoulder, with only one runner still behind them. There was a cheer from the watching classes. Kit gave a breathless little laugh. “We got there.” Avery smiled back. They had. But the space on the shelf suddenly seemed very empty.

Later, Avery sat on a low bench away from the running lanes. The winner's blue ribbon shone in the sunlight. Avery was glad Kit was all right. Avery was also sad. Both feelings fitted inside, although they made an uncomfortable sort of mixture. Kit sat nearby. “You came back,” Kit said. Avery nodded and looked at the shoes that had worked so hard.

Then the headteacher called Avery's name. Avery looked up. Had a rule been broken? The headteacher held a golden rosette with a little heart at its centre. “Our spirit award,” came the announcement. “Avery trained hard and wanted to win. When a friend needed help, Avery chose to stop. That is kindness and fair play we can all be proud of.”

The whole school cheered. Even the race winner clapped, blue ribbon bobbing. Avery stood tall as the headteacher placed the rosette in an outstretched hand. Kit cheered loudest of all. That evening, Avery set the golden award in the space on the shelf. It fitted beautifully. Tomorrow, Avery still wanted to run fast. And there would always be room beside Avery for a friend.