Exit Strategy

Maya's been running from everything lately. From her mom's questions about college applications, from the group chat that won't stop blowing up with drama she doesn't have energy for, from the version of herself that everyone expects her to be.

Her iPhone sits on her nightstand, screen lighting up every thirty seconds like some desperate cry for attention. Maya's thumb hovers over the notifications—another fight in the friend group, someone asking why she's being weird, her sister wondering if she's coming to dinner. She presses the power button. Darkness. Finally.

The vitamin C gummies her mom bought sit on her desk, the orange bottle promising immune system support like that's gonna fix everything. Maya grabs the bottle and dumps three into her mouth, chewing aggressively. They taste like artificial sunshine and lies.

Her phone buzzes again. This time it's Alex.

"you up?"

Maya stares at the message. She and Alex have been dancing around each other for months—flirting that borders on real, then pulling back, then doing it again. It's exhausting and electric and the only thing making her feel something real lately.

"yeah," she types. "you?"

"running to the park. meet me?"

Maya checks the time. 11:47 PM. Her window.

She grabs her hoodie and slips out, moving through her house like a ghost. The night air hits her face as she jogs down the street, her phone tucked in her pocket. For the first time all day, she's not running away from something—she's running toward it.

Alex is already at the swings when she gets there, motionless in the amber glow of the streetlamp. They don't say anything at first. Just exist in this quiet stolen moment that belongs to nobody else.

"I quit track," Alex says finally, pushing off the ground. "Today."

Maya's stomach drops. Alex's whole identity revolves around running—scholarship talk, morning practices, the casual way everyone assumes Alex's future is already mapped out.

"Why?"

Alex shrugs, still swinging higher. "I don't know. Maybe I just wanted something to be my choice. Not because it looks good on applications or because my dad did it in high school. Just... mine."

Maya thinks about the vitamin gummies. About the college essays she's supposed to be writing. About how everyone acts like teenage years are just preparation for real life, not real life itself.

"My mom makes me take these vitamins," Maya says suddenly. "Says I need them for stress reduction. But honestly? I think they're just chewy little existential crises."

Alex laughs, and it's the most genuine sound Maya's heard in weeks. Their feet drag against the ground, slowing the swing to a stop.

"Hey," Alex says, turning to look at her. "You wanna get out of here? Like, actually out. My cousin's cabin, next weekend. No phones, no expectations, just... existing."

Maya's phone buzzes in her pocket again. Another notification, another demand, another person wanting something from her.

She pulls it out and powers it off.

"Yeah," she says, grinning in the darkness. "Yeah, I really do."