The Art of Running Late

Maya's vitamin gummies stared back at her from the kitchen counter, a judgmental rainbow of wellness she couldn't bring herself to swallow. Her mom had bought them last week—"for your immune system, mija"—but they felt like just another thing she was failing at.

Her iPhone buzzed on her nightstand. Group chat explosion. Someone was already posting about Jordan's party tonight, and Maya wasn't sure if she was invited. The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

She grabbed her phone and started running—literally running—out the door, past her little brother playing video games in the living room, past the judgmental vitamin gummies still sitting on the counter. The California heat hit her like a physical thing as she sprinted toward school, her vintage Con slapping against pavement.

"Wait up!"

It was Chloe, somehow already dressed like she'd stepped out of a TikTok aesthetic board. They'd drifted apart since freshman year, ever since Chloe had gotten hot and discovered her username could be monetized.

"You going to Jordan's?" Chloe asked, falling into step beside her.

Maya's stomach did that thing it always did when she had to answer questions that felt like traps. "I think? I haven't—"

"You should come." Chloe pulled out her iPhone, already typing. "I'll put you on the list. No biggie."

The list. Like it was a club and not just some random's house party where people would stand around pretending to have fun.

At lunch, Maya sat by the fountain watching water ripple over coins people had tossed in—wishes for crushes to notice them, for grades to magically improve, for something to finally happen. The three dots from that morning still haunted her group chat. Had she been invited? Was Chloe just being nice? Was this a pity invite?

She pulled out her phone. Typed: "Thanks but I think I'm gonna stay in tonight."

Deleted it.

Typed: "What time should I be there?"

Her thumb hovered over send. The water in the fountain kept rippling, coins beneath the surface glinting like secrets.

She stood up and walked to her locker, grabbing her backpack. Started running toward the track instead of Jordan's house. She'd go later. Maybe. First, she needed to outrun the version of herself that waited for invitations and validation and group chat responses.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she ran. She didn't check it.

Some messages could wait.