Bear Suit, Cold Feet

Marcus wanted to disappear. Literally. Poof. Gone. But instead, he was sweating inside a polyester bear costume that smelled like every previous occupant's regret.

"You got this, Marc!" his best friend Leo yelled from the sidelines, where everyone who was actually cool was hanging out. Marcus gave a thumbs-up with a giant foam paw. The crowd went mild.

This was supposed to be his year — varsity track, finally making moves, maybe even talking to Chloe, the junior who always sat alone at lunch sketching in her notebook. Instead, here he was, the new school mascot after Tyler graduated and nobody else wanted the gig. Something about "building his college application" and "showing school spirit." Whatever that meant.

The halftime whistle blew. Marcus started his awkward trot toward midfield, the bear head bobbing like a bobblehead on a dashboard. Then it happened — his foot caught on the costume's own fur.

He went down hard. The crowd's collective gasp was audible even through the bear snout.

But then someone was helping him up. A hand reaching through the embarrassment. He looked up into Chloe's actual-IRL face, concern in her eyes, not mockery.

"You okay, Bear?" she asked, and something about the way she said it made him think she knew exactly who was inside.

He stood up, dusted off the ridiculous costume, and did the only thing that made sense. He started running. Not away — just running around the field in these clumsy, absurd loops, waving his arms like a maniac. The crowd started laughing, but not like *at* him. Like *with* him. He kept running, faster, the bear costume flopping everywhere, and he realized something: nobody cared that he looked ridiculous. They cared that he was owning it.

Afterward, Chloe found him by the concession stand, where he was chugging the cheapest vitamin water on earth because he was literally going to pass out from dehydration.

"That was kind of legendary," she said, sliding onto the bench next to him. "Also, I saw you at track tryouts last week. You're fast."

Marcus nearly spit out his Vitaminwater-Strawberry-Kiwi. "You noticed?"

"I notice things." She pulled a sketchbook from her bag. Flipped to a page. It was him. Not as a bear. Running. Fast. Like actually fast. "You move like you're running away from something. Or toward something. Haven't figured out which yet."

Marcus stared at the drawing. Then at her. Then at the stupid bear head resting on the bench beside him.

"Maybe both," he said.

Chloe smiled. "Well, you should totally join track. We could use someone who knows how to fall down and get back up like that."

"We?"

"I manage the boys' team." She stood up. "See you at practice, Bear. Don't be late."

Marcus watched her walk away, then picked up the bear head. The thing still smelled like regret, but something about tonight made the smell a little less awful. He took another sip of his vitamin-enhanced hydration, and for the first time all semester, he didn't want to disappear.