Bear Mode

Maya's legs burned as she kept running, each stride on the cross-country trail feeling heavier than the last. Her dad's voice echoed in her head: "You gotta eat your spinach, Maya. Popeye didn't skip leg day."

Gross. She'd tried the spinach smoothie experiment for exactly three days before her teammates started asking why her teeth were green. Now she was back to her usual breakfast of nothing and orange juice, which was probably why she felt like she might faint before mile three.

"You good, Maya?" called Chase, the senior who'd somehow made varsity as a freshman and now treated every practice like his personal victory lap. He fell into step beside her, breathing like he was taking a casual stroll.

"Never better," Maya lied, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her hair frizzed in the humidity, making her look like she'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket. Meanwhile, Chase looked like a running advertisement for athletic brands.

After practice, the team headed to the community center for optional swimming cooldowns. Optional meaning everyone went because Coach threatened extra laps if you didn't. Maya dragged herself to the pool, dreading the awkward locker room vibes and the way her legs felt like jelly.

She's always hated swimming—the way water got up her nose, how everyone could see her struggling to do a decent butterfly. But today was different. As she dove in, something clicked. The water held her up. Her legs stopped burning. She wasn't the slowest runner anymore; she was just another body cutting through the blue, weightless and free.

When she surfaced, Chase was hanging over the edge, grinning. "You've got some bear mode energy today, rookie."

Maya rolled her eyes. "Did you just compare me to a bear?"

"A grizzly, obviously. Fierce." He tossed her an orange from his bag. "For recovery. My mom says potassium's basically magic."

Maya caught it one-handed, feeling something unfamiliar bloom in her chest. Maybe it was the endorphins. Maybe it was the fact that Chase "Perfect Hair" Reynolds had just given her a compliment that made zero sense but somehow made perfect sense.

"Bear mode," she repeated, peeling the orange. "I'll take it."

Maybe tomorrow she'd even try the spinach smoothie again. Probably not, but maybe.