The Spy Who Ran Far

I was basically a professional spy at this point. Not the cool kind with gadgets and martinis — more like the kind who lurked on Jordan's Instagram story at 2 AM, analyzing whether that blurry figure in the background was his new girlfriend or just his weird cousin.

"You're doing it again," Maya said, sliding onto the cafeteria bench next to me. "The face. The spy face."

"I'm not spying," I lied, closing Instagram so fast I nearly dropped my phone. "I'm conducting research. For science."

"Right. Because creeping on your ex's stories is definitely what Darwin had in mind."

I shoved a mysterious orange gummy into my mouth. "Want a vitamin? My mom's trying to optimize my performance or something. She says they're for focus."

"Your mom realizes we're juniors, not training for the Olympics, right?"

Actually, I kind of was training. I'd joined track on impulse — mostly because Jordan had joined track, but he'd quit after two weeks while I was somehow still there, running in circles three times a week like a hamster who'd forgotten why she'd started spinning in the first place.

The real problem wasn't running. It was Harper Fox.

Everyone called her "the Fox" because she was clever and fast and somehow always three steps ahead of everyone else. She'd transferred in sophomore year and immediately established herself as the kind of effortlessly cool person who knew everyone's secrets without ever seeming to ask.

She'd caught me staring at Jordan during practice yesterday.

"You know," she'd said, falling into step beside me, "he's not actually that great. You're just running in circles chasing someone who already quit the race."

"Since when do you give life advice?" I'd panted.

"Since I realized you're actually pretty fast," she'd replied. "You could beat me if you stopped caring who was watching."

Today, Harper stood by the school entrance like some kind of sphinx — unreadable, mysterious, waiting for me to answer a riddle I didn't understand.

"Regionals are next week," she said when I reached her. "I heard Jordan's bringing his new girlfriend to watch."

"How do you—"

"I have my ways." The Fox smiled, all teeth and mischief. "So here's the question: Are you gonna keep spying on his life, or are you gonna start running your own race?"

I thought about those vitamins my mom kept buying — orange gummies that were supposed to make me better, stronger, faster. But the thing nobody tells you about growing up is that there's no supplement for figuring out who you are when nobody's watching.

"I'm running," I said. And for the first time, I actually meant it.