The Sphinx of Miller Field

Maya's lungs burned like she'd inhaled a campfire. Two months into freshman year, and she was already the worst cross-country runner at Northwood High. Probably in the history of the school.

"Pick it up, Martinez!" Coach bellowed from his bicycle.

Maya's legs pumped mechanically. At least she wasn't dead last today. That honor belonged to Tyler, who was currently power-walking while checking his Apple Watch like it might miraculously change his mile time.

They rounded the bend toward Miller Field, where the concrete sphinx statue had presided over the school since like, the 1800s. Legend said if you touched its nose at midnight, you'd ace finals. Maya had tested that theory last semester – straight Bs, thank you very much.

Suddenly, Tyler went down.

Maya skidded to a halt. "Yo, you good?"

Tyler rolled onto his back, gasping. He clutched his chest. "That." Wheeze. "Spinach." Gasp. "Smoothie."

Maya's brain short-circuited. "You had a spinach smoothie before practice?"

"My mom's" – gasp – "new phase." He fumbled for his water bottle with trembling hands. "She's into holistic living now. I tried to tell her nobody drinks liquefied leaves before a three-mile run, but she wouldn't listen."

Maya started cracking up. She couldn't help it. The absurdity of it – Tyler Chen, Northwood's residential genius and AP-everything, taken down by his mother's wellness kick.

"It's not funny!" He protested, but he was smiling too. "I can literally taste my own demise."

"Come on." Maya reached out a hand. "Let's walk back together. We'll tell Coach we saw a dog or something."

He grabbed her hand, pulling himself up. "What kind of dog?"

"A really slow one."

"That tracks." He dusted off his knees. "Hey, Maya?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for stopping. Most people would've kept running."

"Well," she said, as they limped toward the distant sphinx, "we can't all be athletes. Some of us have to be the people who stop for the spinach victims."

Tyler laughed so hard he nearly fell over again.

By the time they reached the finish line, Coach had already moved on to yelling at someone else. Tyler signed up for smoothie-making duty at next week's meet, insisting he could do better. Maya didn't have the heart to tell him that literally any smoothie would be better than whatever he'd had.

That night, she posted a photo of Tyler mid-collapse, captioned: when the gains are fake but the smoothie is real. It got 87 likes.

Somehow, Maya thought as she drifted off, sucking at running had been the best thing that could've happened. She hadn't beaten her time, but she'd made a friend. And honestly? That felt better than any personal record.