Sweaty Palms & Orange Skies

My palms were sweating. Again.

"You good, Marcus?" Jasmine asked, not looking up from her phone.

"Yeah. Just nervous about tryouts."

She laughed. "You've been running track since seventh grade. Why are you stressing now?"

Because this was high school. Because the older guys looked like they could bench press my entire middle school existence. Because my mom had made me take that giant vitamin supplement that morning, and I could still taste the chalky orange aftermath on my tongue.

"Whatever," I said, leaning against the bleachers. "Just gotta do it."

The coach blew his whistle. "Alright, let's see what you've got. First lap warm-up!"

I took off, my sneakers slapping against the rubber track. The Florida air was thick, already seventy degrees at 8 AM. Palm trees swayed lazily along the perimeter, mocking my effort.

Coach Taylor stood at the finish line with a clipboard and a frown that said he'd seen too many kids fail today.

"Alright, Lewis," he called out. "Good form. Now let's see your bear crawl."

"My what?"

"Bear crawl. Hands and feet, back flat. Across the field. Go."

I dropped to all fours and started crawling. This was ridiculous. I looked like a confused toddler. Somewhere behind me, I heard laughter—maybe Jasmine, maybe just my own dignity finally giving up.

"Push it!" Coach yelled. "You want that varsity spot? EARN it."

My arms burned. My legs shook. The orange sun beat down on my neck. But then something clicked. Maybe it was the vitamin kicking in. Maybe it was just desperation. I stopped caring how stupid I looked and started moving.

By the time I reached the other side, sweat was dripping off my nose onto the grass.

"Not bad," Coach nodded, actually smiling a little. "Not bad at all."

Jasmine tossed me a water bottle as I collapsed onto the grass. "You looked like a dying fish out there."

"Shut up."

"But," she added, sitting beside me, "you made it."

I looked up at the sky, the orange already fading to blue. My palms were still sweating. But maybe that was okay.

"Tomorrow," I said. "Same time?"

She grinned. "Try not to eat dirt this time."

"No promises."

The vitamin aftertaste was finally gone. But the nervous excitement? That stayed.