Spinach in My Teeth

I'd been **running** from my problems literally all freshman year—cross country, track, you name it. If I could sweat it out, I would. But some problems follow you everywhere, like Tyler, the human **bull** who'd made it his mission to remind everyone I wasn't cool.

"Spinach smile, bro," Tyler announced across the cafeteria. His friends erupted. I could feel my face burning like I'd been struck by **lightning**.

I scraped the green fleck from my braces. So much for invisibly powering through lunch.

"You good?" asked Maya, the girl I'd been lowkey crushing on since October. She sat diagonal from me, wearing that soft hoodie I'd noticed she always wore on Wednesdays.

"Peachy," I muttered, shoving my tray away. Who eats spinach in the cafeteria anyway? Me, apparently. My mom had packed it, said I needed more iron for track. Moms and their nutrition facts.

"Tyler's a jerk," Maya said, not looking up from her phone. "He gave Evan a wedgie last week for wearing the same shirt twice."

I laughed, despite myself. "That's objectively unhinged behavior."

"Right?" She glanced up, and for a second, our eyes caught. Something zipped through me—different from the spinach mortification. Like **lightning**, actually.

"Hey," she said, "you're doing the mile Friday, right? I heard you almost broke five minutes last meet."

I blinked. She knew my times?

"Yeah," I managed. "Hopefully. If Tyler doesn't psyche me out first."

"Let him try." Maya grinned. "I bet you'd smoke him anyway."

Friday came. The track buzzed with pre-meet energy. Tyler stood at the starting line, bouncing on his toes, casting glances my way. I thought about the spinach. About Maya watching. About how I'd spent the whole year **running** away from moments like this.

The gun cracked.

I didn't run from Tyler. I ran past him.

I could hear his breathing behind me, heavy and confident. But in the final lap, something shifted—my legs found a rhythm I hadn't felt all season. I crossed the finish line three seconds before him, chest heaving, everything spinning.

Maya was waiting at the rail. "Told you."

"Yeah," I said, between gasps. "You did."

Maybe I didn't need to run from everything anymore. Some things—some people—were worth running toward.