The Spinach Incident

I've been **running** from my problems since seventh grade. Literally. Cross country was supposed to be my fresh start—the thing that made me interesting at Northwood High. But three weeks into freshman year, and I'm still the invisible kid in the back of the pack.

"You need more **vitamin** D, honey," my mom had said that morning, pressing another orange gel capsule into my palm. Her concerned mom-voice. The one that meant she'd been reading health blogs again.

Now I'm leaning against the gym doors, watching Maya Rodriguez laugh with her friends. Maya with the perfect hair and the vintage **hat** collection she rotates through like she's curating a museum exhibit. Today: a cream-colored bucket hat that somehow makes everything look effortless.

"Hey, running man," she says, suddenly right there.

I choke on absolutely nothing. "What?"

"You're always running," she grins. "Literally saw you sprinting away from the cafeteria yesterday before lunch even started."

My face burns. She saw me escape before the social hierarchy could crush me. Cool. Very cool.

"I was... training."

"Right." She taps the brim of her hat. "Well, since you're always running away from food, you probably want this."

She pushes a Tupperware container into my hands. Inside: a plastic fork and a mountain of **spinach**, suspiciously green.

"What—is this?"

"My mom's obsessed with her new diet. I can't do it anymore. I need someone to take the fall for me." She leans in closer. Her eyes are this golden-brown color that I hadn't noticed from far away. "You seem like you appreciate a good health moment."

I look at the spinach. I look at her.

"Why me?"

"Because you're the only person I've seen reading a book during lunch break while everyone else is performing their little social dances." She smiles, and it's different from her other smiles—smaller, more real. "You seem like you get it."

I get it. The pressure. The expectations. The performing.

"Fine," I say. "But you owe me."

"Deal." She tilts her head. "There's a **water** fountain by the track if you need to wash down the trauma."

That afternoon, I ate the entire container of spinach while the track team did their cooldown laps. Maya sat next to me, stealing my **water** bottle and making fun of my mom's vitamin collection.

Some things, I learned, you stop running from eventually.