Running On Empty

I was a certified zombie by third period AP Chem. Like, actually undead. Three hours of sleep because Mr. Harrison decided to assign a lab report AND study guide the same night? Criminal. My brain felt like it was glitching, caught between sleep deprivation and the harsh fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

'You look like actual death, Noa,' Keira said, sliding into the seat beside me. Her perfect coils bounced, somehow defying gravity and humidity simultaneously. 'Your hair is giving... existential crisis.'

I tucked a frizzy piece behind my ear. 'Gee, thanks, best friend.'

Keira and I had been inseparable since seventh grade, when she'd defended me against Tyler's crew after they made fun of my braces. But lately, everything felt different. She'd joined track, discovered eyeliner, and suddenly the honors classes she'd complained about became her whole personality. Meanwhile, I was still trying to figure out who I was beyond 'the smart girl who never talks.'

'You coming to watch me practice?' Keira asked, already knowing the answer. 'Coach says I've got a shot at regionals if I shave two seconds off my time.'

I'd been avoiding the track meets all season. It wasn't that I didn't want to support her. I did. It was just... watching her find her thing, flourish in this whole new world where she was fast and powerful and confident while I was still stuck in the same place? It stung.

'Actually,' I said, surprising myself, 'yeah. I'll come.'

That afternoon, I sat on the bleachers watching them run. It was mesmerizing—the rhythm of it, the way Keira's body moved like she'd been born to do this. When she noticed me, she flashed this huge, genuine smile that made something in my chest loosen.

Afterward, we walked home together. Keira sweaty and glowing, me still feeling like a zombie but a slightly less dead one.

'You know,' she said, 'I'm not just running because I like it. I run because it's the only time my brain shuts up. No grades, no college apps, no expectations. Just... me, moving forward.'

That hit different.

'Maybe I need that,' I admitted. 'My own thing. Something that's mine.'

'So find it,' Keira said simply. 'You will. And I'll be there, same way you were for me today.'

For the first time in months, the zombie feeling lifted. Maybe finding yourself wasn't about having it all figured out. Maybe it was just about showing up—for your friends, for yourself, one imperfect step at a time.