Running From Myself

I was literally **running** away from my problems—well, jogging, actually. At a solid 12-minute mile pace because I'm not trying to be heroic, just trying to clear my head before third period.

That's when I saw him: Caleb, the Padel King of North High, standing behind the gym, messing with some loose **cable** dangling from the wall. The same cable that connected the school's "security" cameras (which everyone knew were about as useful as a waterproof towel).

I'd been lowkey **spying** on Caleb's Instagram for months—not in a creepy way, just in a "I appreciate your aesthetic from a distance" way. He was perfect. Popular. Played **padel** every weekend with his equally perfect friends. Meanwhile, I was over here struggling to decide if I should wear the same hoodie three days in a row.

So when I saw him unscrewing that cable panel, looking sketchy as hell, my brain went into full noir detective mode. I ducked behind a dumpster like I was in some teen spy drama, which I immediately realized was pathetic because A) I was literally hiding behind a dumpster and B) I forgot I was still wearing my neon **orange** running shoes. The same ones my mom said were "a bold choice" (mom code for "these are loud, honey").

Caleb looked up. We made eye contact. My life flashed before my eyes, which was mostly just awkward school lunches and that one time I said "you too" when a waiter told me to enjoy my meal.

"You see that, right?" he asked, gesturing to the cable he'd just disconnected from the wall. "The school's been charging for premium security monitoring but the cameras haven't worked since 2019. I'm rerouting it so the cafeteria can finally get WiFi."

I stood there, processing this plot twist. The popular guy wasn't doing something shady. He was doing something ... nice? For the cafeteria staff?

"You want help?" I heard myself say. "My dad works in IT. I know how to splice cables."

Caleb grinned. "You're the kid with the orange shoes, right? You always sit by the window in English class."

My face burned. He'd noticed me? The spyer had become the spied-on?

We spent twenty minutes behind that gym, me holding cables while he explained network routing like we were co-conspirators in a heist movie. By the time the lunch bell rang, I'd agreed to help him set up a WiFi booster for the teachers' lounge too.

"Cool running into you," he said, fist-bumping me before jogging off toward the padel courts.

I walked to class, my neon orange shoes feeling somehow bolder, like maybe standing out wasn't the worst thing in the world. Sometimes you run from problems, and sometimes problems turn out to be opportunities in disguise. And sometimes the perfect guy is just a dude trying to get WiFi for the cafeteria.

Also, I'm now officially the IT department's behind-the-scenes cable consultant. Not exactly the social status upgrade I expected, but I'll take it.