Barely Bearing It

My stupid nickname had followed me like a ghost since fourth grade when I'd streaked through the cafeteria wearing nothing but a bear headband during spirit week. Bear. capital B. The guys on the varsity padel team still used it like a weapon, especially Tyler, whose smile could make girls forget their own names.

Now here I was, running detention laps behind the school while everyone else was at the Fall Bash, because I'd "accidentally" knocked over Tyler's brand new padel racket when he'd made yet another crack about my "bear tendencies" during gym class. The asphalt crunched under my sneakers, my breathing ragged in the October chill.

"Yo Bear!"

I kept running, pretending I hadn't heard.

"Bear, wait up!"

Tyler jogged beside me, sweat-darkening his blue t-shirt, actually out of breath for once. "I saw your Instagram. That drawing? It was... actually kinda sick."

I stopped running. "What?"

"The bear one. The one you posted last night and deleted ten minutes later." He looked genuinely awkward, which was new. "I was showing it to the team because we need a logo for the padel tournament and—"

"You want me to design your logo?" I laughed, but it came out more like a scoff. "After everything?"

"Yeah." He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in a crack in the pavement. "Also, I was kind of a dick. About the nickname. The guys were giving me crap about how I can never beat you at anything that's not padel, and I—"

"Wait, you've never beaten me?"

"Dude, I've seen your grades. And now your art." A genuine grin. "Anyway, want to come to the party? Maya's been asking where you are."

I started running again, slower this time. Tyler kept pace. Behind us, the gym lights flickered on, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear bass thumping from the Fall Bash. For the first time in forever, I didn't feel like running away from it.

"Fine," I said. "But you're carrying my sketchbook."

"Deal, Bear."

"Don't push it."