Bear Truths and Spinach Smiles

I was technically running cross country, but mostly I was running away from my dad's expectations. The man had already ordered custom varsity jackets, and I'd been to exactly two practices.

The cable went out during playoffs—total party foul at Tyler's house—and suddenly everyone was outside. That's when I spotted her: Riley, with the half-purple hair and those combat boots she never took off, even in math class. I'd been lowkey spying on her socials for weeks, which sounds creepy when I say it out loud, but we all do that, right?

I was panicking. I'd brought spinach dip as my contribution, because I thought people actually ate vegetables at parties. Spoiler: they don't. And I'm pretty sure I had spinach stuck in my teeth.

Riley's older brother, Tyrell, walked up with his arms crossed. The man had a massive bear tattooed across his shoulders, like full-on grizzly, and I was intimidated until Riley said, "He got that after his ex-girlfriend cheated. He says it represents 'hibernating from love.'"

Tyrell deadass looked at my spinach dip and said, "That's actually kind of brave."

"Brave?" I laughed. "It's spinach."

"Bringing real food to a room full of Doritos and rage." He fist-bumped me. "Also, you've had something in your teeth since you walked in."

Riley snorted. I wanted to die. Instead, I wiped my teeth and said, "So, since the cable's dead and everyone's losing their minds over football... want to help me finish this spinach dip?"

She looked at her brother, then back at me. "Only if you tell me why you're actually on cross country."

I told her everything—about my dad, the varsity jacket I didn't want, how I'd rather join creative writing club. How I'd been running toward something that wasn't me.

"Yeah," she said, grabbing a chip. "I feel that. My mom thinks I'm going through a phase with the hair. Three years later."

We sat on the roof while Tyrell kept everyone from destroying the living room over a bad call. The bear tattoo guy ended up being my wingman, the spinach dip became our thing, and I quit cross country on Monday.

Sometimes running toward who you actually are means stopping first.