Orange Hoodie Undercover

The orange hoodie was my armor. Third period, lunchtime, whenever I needed to disappear into the crowd at Northwood High. But today, it felt more like a spotlight.

"Casey, you're not actually gonna wear that to the meet, right?" Maya raised an eyebrow as we sat on the bleachers, watching the track team practice. "It's not exactly cross-country chic."

I shrugged, pulling the sleeves down over my hands. "It's my lucky hoodie."

"Your lucky hoodie smells like desperation and Fritos."

She wasn't wrong. But Maya didn't know about the vitamin gummies stashed in the front pocket—my dad's weird health phase that I'd secretly embraced because they actually helped with pre-race jitters. Or that I'd been **running** every morning at 5 AM because Coach Thompson said I had potential, whatever that meant.

Potential wasn't something I was used to hearing about myself. Usually, it was "Casey who?" or "Oh, you're Maya's friend."

Then I saw him. Across the field, leaning against the chain-link fence like he owned it. Caleb. Junior. Varsity captain. The kind of guy who'd never notice a sophomore in a suspiciously orange sweatshirt.

Except he was looking right at me.

"He's totally checking you out," Maya whispered. "I saw him **spy** on you during English yesterday."

"No way." My face burned. "He was probably looking at the clock behind me."

"Casey, he literally did that nod thing. The 'sup' nod."

I couldn't **bear** it. The hope bubbling in my chest, the way my heart did that stupid flutter thing. Because even if Maya was right, even if Caleb WAS interested, what would happen when he got close enough to realize I wasn't interesting? I was just the girl in the orange hoodie who couldn't even talk to her crush without her voice cracking.

"I need water," I mumbled, standing up way too fast.

Caleb started walking over. ACTUALLY walking over. His movement was easy, athletic, completely unfair.

"Hey." His voice was deeper in person. "Orange hoodie, right? I've seen you running past my house on Birch."

My brain short-circuited. "Y-yeah?"

"You're fast." He grinned. "We could use someone like that on varsity. Tryouts are next week. You should come."

He wasn't looking at the clock. He wasn't looking through me.

He was seeing ME.

"I'll be there," I said, and for the first time, the orange hoodie didn't feel like armor. It felt like a flag. Like I was finally ready to be seen.