Running From the Mirror

Maya pressed her forehead against the cool cafeteria window, watching him like a total creep. Not like, FBI-level spy creep, but that regular high school stalking where you "accidentally" walk past someone's locker three times between classes.

Her hair was doing that thing again—half-frizzy, half-flat, basically a visual representation of her entire freshman existence. She'd spent forty minutes with the curling iron this morning, but the humidity had other plans.

"You're literally drooling," said Jordan, sliding into the seat across from her. "Just go talk to him."

"Hard pass," Maya muttered. "I can barely form sentences around normal humans. Around him? I'd probably start speaking in tongues or something."

Jordan rolled their eyes so hard it looked painful. "You're being dramatic. He's just a guy who happens to be cute and plays water polo and has that whole floppy-situation going on with his hair—"

"Which is precisely why I cannot function within fifty feet of him."

The bell rang, saving her from further embarrassment. Track practice was actually perfect right now—running until her legs burned and her brain stopped overthinking everything. Coach said they needed to work on their endurance, but Maya treated it more like emotional regulation.

Laps two, three, four. The rhythm of her sneakers on the track, the way her breath hitched in her chest, the stupid cable that the TV repair guy had left strung across their backyard yesterday that she kept thinking about for some reason—

"Maya!"

She snapped out of it and almost tripped over her own feet. Of course he was standing there. Caleb. The water polo guy. The reason she currently looked like a sweaty disaster instead of the chill, mysterious girl she'd been mentally curating.

"You dropped this," he said, holding up her hair tie. The one with the little strawberry charm that her little sister had made her.

"Oh. Thanks." Smooth. Truly eloquent.

"You're Maya, right? From English?"

She nodded, probably too enthusiastically. She was running. Literally and figuratively. This was fine. Everything was fine.

"Cool," he said. "See you."

That was it. Three words. But later, when she finally stopped running and actually looked in the mirror, Maya noticed something different. Her hair was still messy. She was still sweaty and awkward. But maybe that was okay. Maybe she didn't have to be perfect to be worth noticing.