The Night I Stopped Running

I'd been running from myself all summer—running from the fact that I didn't belong with the popular crowd, running from how much it hurt when Mia stopped sitting with me at lunch, running from the mirror that showed someone trying too hard to be someone she wasn't. But the night of Tyler's pool party, I literally had to run.

I'd spent forty-five minutes curling my hair and applying三层 of eyeliner. I was wearing my new bikini—the one I'd begged my mom for, even though it felt like wearing someone else's skin. When I got there, everyone was already in the pool, laughing and splashing. I perched on the edge, dangling my feet in the water, trying to look casual.

Then Tyler's golden retriever, Buster, spotted me. He'd just shaken himself dry like always, but one look at me and he decided I needed another bath. Before I could scramble away, he bounded over and shook again—directly in my face. I was drenched. Fur and water droplets clung to my carefully styled hair. My makeup started running down my cheeks like I was crying.

Everyone stared. Then someone snickered. Then someone else laughed out loud.

I could feel the burning behind my eyes, the same heat I'd felt every day since Mia replaced me with Brianna. I started to get up, ready to run home and never come back. But then I looked down at Buster, who was wagging his tail like he'd just given me the best gift ever. His fur was wet and his ears were flopping and he looked so genuinely happy to see me.

And I just—stopped.

I wiped my mascara-streaked face with the back of my hand. I took a breath. Then I jumped in the pool, clothes and all.

Cannon splash.

When I came up, sputtering, everyone was quiet. I pushed my soaking hair out of my face. "Well," I said, "guess I'm officially part of the party now."

Something shifted. People were still watching, but differently. Like they were waiting for the punchline. So I gave them one. I grabbed a pool noodle and started fencing with Buster, who barked joyfully and tried to eat it.

By the end of the night, I wasn't part of the popular crowd. But I wasn't trying to be anymore. I'd found the people who didn't care if my hair was perfect—like Leo, who sat with me by the snacks while his clothes dried, and Sarah, who showed me her secret trick for waterproof mascara that actually works.

I wasn't running anymore. I was just living.