“Not one of the fastest, but the fastest.” The word THE is ...

        Ba-room, ba-room, ba-room, baripity, baripity, baripity, baripity. Good. His dad had the pickup going. He could get up now. Jess slid out of bed and into his overalls. He didn't worry about a shirt because once he began running he would be hot as popping grease even if the morning air was chill, or shoes because the bottoms of his feet were by now as tough as his worn-out sneakers.

        "Where you going, Jess?" May Belle lifted herself up sleepily from the double bed where she and Joyce Ann slept.

        "Sh." He warned. The walls were thin. Momma would he mad as flies in a fruit jar if they woke her up this time of day.

        He patted May Belle's hair and yanked the twisted sheet up to her small chin. "Just over the cow field," he whispered. May Belle smiled and snuggled down under the sheet.

        "Gonna run?"

        "Maybe."

        Of course he was going to run. He had gotten up early every day all summer to run. He figured if he worked at it – and Lord, had he worked – he could be the fastest runner in the fifth grade when school opened up. He had to be the fastest – not one of the fastest or next to the fastest, but the fastest. The very best.

(Excerpt from Bridge to Terabithia, by Katherine Paterson. Available on https://www.e-reading.club/bookreader.php/135126/Patterson_- _Bridge_to_Terabithia.pdf)