Sweaty Palms & Second Place

My palms were sweating so much I could barely grip my phone. Third text from Brandon in ten minutes: 'u coming???'

I stared at the smoothie on my counter—green sludge that looked like something from a swamp. Mom's latest phase: 'You need more **vitamin** K, Maya!' She'd bought, like, five bunches of **spinach** and now my life was a constant battle against leafy green everything.

'I'm coming!' I texted back, hitting send so hard I almost dropped my phone.

Cross-country practice. My first week as a freshman trying to prove I belonged with the varsity squad. Every upperclassman looked like they were born with running shoes surgically attached to their feet.

When I got to the park, Brandon was already there, stretching with that annoying natural grace that made me want to scream. 'Thought you bailed, M. You good?'

'Yeah. Just... busy.' I grabbed a quick drink from the water fountain, the **water** tasting like metal and panic. 'Ready to crush this.'

Liar.

Coach blew the whistle and we took off. My legs burned instantly. The sophomores and juniors pulled ahead like they had jet packs. I could feel my face getting red, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Then I saw her—Chloe, the senior team captain, absolutely crushing it. But what caught me off guard was that she wasn't even that fast. Like, she was decent, but not 'I'm literally a running god' decent. Yet everyone acted like she was the second coming.

Wait. I sped up, passing some juniors who looked shocked. Chloe wasn't fast because she was naturally gifted. She was fast because she was CONSISTENT. She didn't sprint ahead and burn out like these try-hards. She paced herself.

I adjusted my stride, found a rhythm that actually worked. My palms stopped sweating. The spinach smoothie from earlier suddenly felt like fuel, not punishment.

I finished third overall. Behind Chloe and some sophomore whose name I couldn't remember.

Brandon jogged over, eyes wide. 'Since when can you run like that??'

I looked at my hands, steady now, and grinned. 'Since I figured out I don't have to be the fastest. I just have to keep moving.'

The spinach might still taste like dirt, but I was finally starting to feel like I belonged.