The Vitamin C Confidence Boost

I'd been running from my problems since seventh grade, but somehow they always caught up. Usually in the locker room while I was changing for PE.

"Hey, Vitamin C deficiency!" Derek called, chucking a padel ball at my head. I ducked, but my fedora—a terrible fashion choice I was committed to—went flying.

Three weeks ago, my mom had started me on these massive vitamin supplements because I got winded walking up stairs. Now Derek, who somehow found out about this private information, had made it my new nickname. The irony was that the vitamins were actually helping. I could run farther without feeling like my lungs were staging a protest.

"Your hat, bro," Derek laughed, stepping onto the padel court. "It's inside. Take it off."

The hat stayed on. It was my armor. Without it, everyone would see—

"You coming or what?" Maya asked from the baseline. She was two years older, gorgeous in that effortless way, and somehow never sweaty even after three sets.

I stepped onto the court. The hat came off.

Derek froze. Maya's eyes went wide.

"Whoa," someone said.

I ran a hand through my newly buzzed hair. No more hiding. The vitamin supplements weren't just fixing my winded-ness anymore—they were part of this whole reinvention thing. Senior year was in six months, and I was done running from stuff.

"Game on," I said, and my voice didn't even shake.

We played for hours. I lost every match, but my lungs didn't burn, and when Maya high-fived me afterward and said "you're actually getting decent," I didn't even care about the sweat dripping down my neck.

Walking home, I realized I'd left my hat on the court somewhere.

I didn't go back for it.