Running Parallel
Maya's been basically stalking Chloe's Instagram since freshman year. Okay, stalking is harsh. Let's say she's been conducting extensive research on the girl who sits three rows ahead in homeroom, the one with the perfect hair and the laugh that sounds like sunlight.
Every morning, Maya becomes a temporary spy. She watches Chloe at her locker—today's outfit: vintage oversized hoodie, ripped Converse, the kind of effortless style Maya spends two hours trying to fake. Maya knows Chloe's coffee order (oat milk latte, extra foam), her post schedule (aesthetic sunsets on Fridays), and that she writes everything in purple gel pen.
They're not friends. They're not even acquaintances. They're just two girls running parallel tracks, never quite intersecting.
Until the day Maya actually is running—literally, because she joined track to get out of PE and now she's somehow committed to this—and she collapses at practice, lungs burning, wondering why she thought this was better than dodgeball.
"You're landing wrong on your left foot," says a voice behind her.
Maya turns. Chloe is there, tying her shoelaces like she belongs on this track, like the universe just decided to flip the script.
"I've been watching you run," Chloe continues, and Maya feels her face heat up because oh god, has this been a two-way surveillance operation? "Your stride's off. Want me to fix it?"
Three weeks later, Maya's still running, but now Chloe is beside her, matching her pace, fixing her form, and occasionally grabbing post-practice smoothies. They talk about everything and nothing—college apps, why Mr. Henderson gives so much homework, how they both feel like imposters in their own lives.
"I used to watch you in homeroom," Chloe admits one day, stretching her hamstrings. "I thought you looked like someone who'd get my jokes."
Maya laughs so hard she almost trips. "I was literally doing the same thing. I thought YOU looked like someone who'd never talk to me."
They're still running—still running toward something undefined, maybe just toward being older and wiser and less afraid to say hello. But now they're running together. And Maya realizes sometimes the best things happen when you stop watching from the sidelines and actually, finally, start running the same track.