Running on Empty

The clock on my phone blinked 4:17 AM as I stared at the ceiling, already dead inside. Two weeks into cross-country preseason and I'd officially become a zombie – shuffling through hallways, eyes glazed, basically asking for brains just to think again.

"You look rough," Kai said at our locker rendezvous, handing me my pre-practice lifeline. A neon orange **vitamin** C drink that tasted like oranges that had seen better days. "Your dad still making you do those morning runs?"

"It builds character," I mocked, parroting Coach Henderson. "Whatever that means."

Truth was, I'd started **running** because of Maya – track star, smile that could cure diseases, probably didn't even know my name. Now I was stuck in this endless cycle of pre-dawn jogs and blistered toes, watching her glide effortlessly while I fought for air like I'd forgotten how lungs work.

Practice was brutal. Heat radiating off the track, humidity so thick you could practically swim through it. My stomach growled loud enough that Kai actually heard me from three lanes over.

"Dude, when did you last eat?"

"Yesterday? Maybe?"

He shook his head, fished something crinkly from his gym bag. "My mom's going through this tropical phase. Have some **papaya** chips."

I squinted at the bag. "What even IS papaya?"

"It's like... if a melon and a mango had a baby? Just try it, you're literally fading away."

They were weirdly good – sweet, tangy, different. We sat on the bleachers as the sun started painting everything gold, sharing the bag and watching the track team drift in. I chugged lukewarm **water** from my bottle, feeling somewhat human again.

"You know," Kai said suddenly, "Maya asked about you yesterday."

I almost choked. "What? What did she say?"

"She asked why you always look so exhausted before practice. Said it's kinda impressive you're still out here."

My zombie heart did this little flutter thing. Maybe all this suffering wasn't invisible after all.

"Tell her..." I started, then realized how pathetic I sounded. "Never mind."

"Tell her yourself," Kai grinned, nodding toward the entrance. "She's walking over."

And suddenly, for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel dead at all. I felt terrifyingly, wonderfully awake.