Sweaty Palms & Second Place

Leo's palms were sweating. Again. He wiped them on his jeans—third time in five minutes. The track meet qualifiers were in an hour, and his stomach was doing backflips.

"You're gonna crush it, Leo." Maya bumped his shoulder with hers. She'd been his best friend since seventh grade, back when he'd tripped over his own feet in gym class and she'd laughed instead of judging. Now she was the one holding his inhaler while he hyperventilated before races.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one whose dad is watching from the stands like a hawk." Leo gestured toward the bleachers where his father sat, arms crossed, already checking his watch.

Maya rolled her eyes. "He's proud of you, you goof. He wouldn't be here every Saturday if he didn't care."

"Whatever." Leo adjusted the bandana around his forehead. His hairline was already damp. "What if I choke? What if I come in last again?"

"Then we get pizza after and make fun of the guy who came in second-to-last."

Leo almost smiled. Almost.

Suddenly, a golden retriever bolted onto the track, chasing a butterfly. Someone screamed. The dog zigzagged across Lane 3—Leo's lane—and plopped down right where he was supposed to start.

"Oh my GOD, that's BEAUTIFUL!" A girl in a tie-dye shirt sprinted onto the field, face red. "I am SO sorry! She never does this!"

Leo watched the chaos unfold: coaches yelling, the girl apologizing profusely, his dad standing up with that look. The look that said, this is exactly why I shouldn't have come.

His palms stopped sweating.

Something about the absurdity of it—that perfect, terrified moment destroyed by a dog chasing a butterfly—made the tightness in his chest loosen. This was ridiculous. All of it.

He started laughing. First a chuckle, then full-on laughter.

Maya stared at him. "You good?"

"Yeah." Leo grinned, wiping his actual-tears this time. "Yeah, I'm good."

The dog's owner finally corralled Beautiful, and the meet resumed. But when Leo lined up at the starting line, his hands were steady. His dad was still watching, but the crushing weight was gone.

He didn't win. He took second place, but he PB'd by three seconds.

Afterward, Maya found him by the water fountain, out of breath and grinning like crazy.

"See?" She high-fived him. "I knew you'd crush it."

Leo looked at his best friend—at the person who'd stood by him through awkward phases, asthma attacks, and now this weird, beautiful disaster of a day.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess I did."

And this time, when he wiped his hands on his jeans, it wasn't because he was nervous. It was because he was sweating like hell, and he'd never felt more alive.