Running from Perfect

I'd spent the entire summer reinventing myself. New Maya runs every morning at dawn, even when her lungs burn and her legs feel like lead. New Maya drinks spinach smoothies that taste like wet grass mixed with disappointment. New Maya wears contacts instead of glasses, because apparently four-eyes is still something people say in 2024.

My golden retriever, Buster, didn't care about New Maya. He only cared that I was awake and the back door was open.

"Buster, no!" I yelled as he shot past me, nails clicking against the hardwood like tiny machine-gun fire. My spinach smoothie sat abandoned on the counter, green分离 into watery rings.

I bolted after him, my expensive new running shoes slapping against the pavement. Buster had spotted something—a squirrel, probably, or his own tail. He was running toward the park where half my school would be hanging out, because the universe has perfect timing for ruining my life.

"Get back here!" I shrieked, my voice cracking. A group of kids from my Spanish class looked up. Great. Just great.

Buster finally stopped, but only because he'd found something better: a patch of dirt to roll in. He flopped onto his back, legs kicking joyfully at the sky, completely unaware that he was demolishing my carefully curated image.

I reached him, breathless, sweat already forming a mustache on my upper lip. The spinach-green smoothie stain on my favorite shirt wasn't helping anything.

"Hey," someone said.

I looked up. Lucas, the guy I'd been crushing on since seventh grade, was walking his dog—a tiny yorkie in a sweater that cost more than my entire wardrobe.

"Your dog's hilarious," Lucas said, grinning. "He's got, like, zero chill."

Buster chose that moment to bound up, dirt-covered and ecstatic, and jump directly onto Lucas's clean white jeans.

I wanted to die. I wanted to dissolve into particles and float away into the atmosphere.

But Lucas laughed. He actually laughed, loud and surprised, as Buster planted muddy paw prints all over his designer jeans.

"Dude," Lucas said, scratching behind Buster's ears. "This is the best thing that's happened all week."

And just like that, the tight knot in my chest loosened. New Maya could keep her spinach smoothies and her dawn runs. Real Maya—the one with the chaotic dog and the stained shirt—was apparently doing just fine.